Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(21)
Author: Emma Hart

As I run down the stairs and jump into my car, I question my decision to go to Tyler before my best friend. Not that it makes the slightest bit of difference because I’m already driving to his apartment. My body is controlling in place of my mind.

I park outside his apartment block and take the elevator up. My heart is pounding, but I can’t decipher between the thump of excitement and the thump from Tyler.

I think they are one and the same.

I knock on his door three times, but when it opens, it isn’t him.

“Oh, Liv! Hi!” Tessa chirps. “If you’re looking for Ty, he’s on an early shoot. Said he’ll be back around ten. I’m going to get breakfast since he’s left me absolutely nothing. Did you want to come?”

Wow. Word vomit indeed.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just wait here. I already ate,” I add as an explanation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer though.” I smile, which she returns as she bounces past me.

I walk into his apartment and close the door behind me.

I’ve never actually been here alone, I quickly realize. He’s always been with me. And right now, with his words about hope and honesty whispering in the back of my mind, my feet guide me toward his room.

It’s not snooping if you know it’s there.

Right?

I move to the dresser he pulled my clothes from yesterday and open the drawers. There are a couple of sets of underwear in the top drawer. Nice underwear, I notice. Expensive underwear. More-than-my-monthly-paycheck kind of underwear.

I chew the inside of my lip. So much for not spending his money. Opening the second drawer, I see a couple of pairs of jeans. The tags are still on these, too, and he sure as hell didn’t buy these from Forever 21.

My eyes flick to one of the prices. Hell. Definitely not a Forever 21 item.

I’m almost afraid to look at the next drawer, but curiosity gets the better of me and I pull it open. A few shirts, sweaters, all tagged and priced still.

I do note that there are no pajamas. Of course there wouldn’t be.

I close the drawer, feeling a little sick from the cost of those items. I’m still wondering what he’s hoping for, really. That, one day, I’ll turn up naked and need the clothes to go home?

I laugh to myself. How ridiculous.

But I wonder…

I pull open the closet door and look inside. On one side, there are sweaters and shirts hanging. There are smart dinner jackets, perfectly pressed, and smart pants without a crease in sight. I raise my eyebrows. Tyler Stone, I am impressed.

Shoes are neatly lined up on the shelf that runs above the clothes rail. Sneakers, dress shoes, sandals, flip-flops. Everything. And not all as cheap as he said before, I think, noticing some Armani jeans.

Levi’s over Armani my left ass cheek.

On the other side, there are a handful of dresses. All my size. All tagged. All brand freaking new. I’m almost afraid to look up, but I do. Shoes to match them—and the underwear in the drawer.

I draw in a long, shaky breath and slowly walk backward.

I won’t lie. It’s thrilling. There are little happy jolts bursting through my veins.

If he has things here, he wants me here. He could be falling for me. He could actually want to love me. He could really, really need me.

It’s scary. Thrilling and scary and exciting. That there could be someone who has the ability to love me as much as I could them, to be as addicted as I am… It’s the best and the worst thing in my world.

All I really want is someone who is as addicted and consumed by me as I am by them.

All I really want is Tyler to crave me like I crave him.

And this helps. Despite the red flags, the panic boiling in my stomach, I fucking love looking in this closet and those drawers and seeing things for me.

I sit on his bed and run my hands along the softness of his sheets. He’s out right now working—taking photos of someone who is probably a hotshot, gorgeous model with teeth whiter than the Ice Queen’s and curves that would make Madonna cry. But he has things for me in his apartment.

Me.

I cover my face with my hands. Deep breaths, Liv. My fingers are twitching with the need to explore more. I need to pull open all the drawers and know more, see more, feel more about this man.

I spy the nightstand. I’ve looked in the drawers before. It’s not snooping if you know what’s there, I tell myself again. It’s just…remembering. Right?

I slowly pull open the middle drawer. Three kinds of lube. Condoms. The bullet… My body flushes. Holy hell, that bullet. That delightful little bullet.

I shut the drawer and open the bottom one. Last time, he surprised me with handcuffs, and is that a fucking vibrator?

My eyebrows shoot up. A laugh bubbles inside me and I clap my hand over my mouth. Fucking hell. I reach in and grab it. I run my finger down the bright-purple, rubbery…shaft. Can you call it a shaft if it’s fake and battery operated?

I flick the little finger designed for the clit. And purse my lips, fighting a smile. I lose my fight, and I’m soon giggling.

Oh, bottom nightstand drawer, I dub thee the Drawer of Sexual Surprises.

I’m almost afraid to look in here ever again. Ever. Again.

A glint of silver catches my eye and I pick up the… Oh, well, apparently, he took my joke about chains seriously. I hold up the short chain, just thick enough to restrain my wrists, and stare at it.

My eyes flick to the vibrator and I look at that, too.

My gaze jolts between them. Chains. Vibrator.

I look to his bed.

And close my eyes so I can’t see anymore. But that fucks up, too, because now all I can see are images of him chaining my wrists together and sliding the vibrator inside me.

I clench my legs together as the front door opens. And my eyes shoot open. Keys clatter against the side, and Tyler walks into his room before I can shove the things back into his drawer.

We stare at each other for a long moment. His lips twitch, his eyes darkening with a sexy kind of amusement.

“Well, that’s a nice sight,” he finally says. “Exploring?”

Nice choice of a word. “Um, discovering, too, apparently.” I hold the chains out to him. “More fantasies, Tyler Stone?”

He grins and takes them from me. “Not fantasies, Liv. Plans.”

Consider me turned. The. Fuck. On.

He sets them on the nightstand and approaches me. Laying his hands on either side of me on the bed, he leans in, smirking. “You keep spoiling my surprises,” he murmurs, dropping his lips to my jaw.