Wild Temptation (Wild #1)(17)
Author: Emma Hart

I step under the hot spray and cover my face with my hands. I need to take a few deep breaths because I’m starting to freak out like a f**king teenager about to go on her first date.

I wash myself quickly, pausing at the conditioner before deciding that it’s worth being naked for a minute longer to get soft hair. I get out of the shower and reach for my—

Shit. I don’t have a towel in here. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

My eyes frantically scan the room. There’s always a towel lying discarded somewhere in this room, but for the first time ever, there isn’t. All because I did laundry this morning. Damn laundry.

Crap. “Um, Tyler?” I call through the bathroom door. “Tyler!”

“What’s wrong?” The door rattles as he leans against it or something.

“I, um, I forgot my towel.”

He pauses. “You forgot your towel?”

“Yes, and now I’m getting cold, so could you get me one? Please?” I can’t believe I’m asking this. Fuck my life.

“Where are they?”

“In the closet behind you. Second shelf.” Oh, God. Please don’t find the Hello Kitty one.

“Hello Kitty. Nice.” He laughs.

“Can you just pass me the damn towel?”

“I would love to, baby girl, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The door’s still shut,” he replies.

Oh, no. I didn’t consider opening the door. “Okay. Don’t look.” Who the hell am I kidding? He’s going to do his best to get an eyeful and then some.

I push the door open and, hiding behind it, slide my hand through the crack. He puts the towel in my hand and I snatch it through, slamming the door before wrapping myself in the pink towel.

I open the door again and come face to face with him. He’s smirking, and he looks down at me without saying a word. If he feels half as awkward as I do, then, well… This is a really awkward situation.

A blush rises from my chest, flushing my neck and cheeks. “Excuse me,” I say more confidently than I feel, stepping around him to the closet for a towel for my hair. I grab one from the closet and bend forward, flipping my hair over my head.

Tyler hisses in a sharp breath. “Liv,” he growls. His fingers brush across my ass, and I realize that he can see everything under my towel when I’m like this.

Oh shit, indeed.

“Go and put some clothes on,” he grinds out, his hand falling away.

I can still feel where his fingers touched me, where they burned into the bareness of my behind, and I take in a breath as heavy as his was. I quickly wrap my hair and straighten, running into my bedroom. I glance at him before I shut the door.

His eyes are fixed on me, and the heat flaring in them warns me of what will happen if I don’t get dressed. It warns of touches and caresses and kisses and sucks. It warns of everything I dreamed of last night.

The door clicks shut. I lean against it, exhaling slowly with my eyes closed. I fist my towel. I can still feel his eyes boring into me through the wood. Almost like he’s begging me to open the door and walk up to him.

But I can’t. I won’t. I can’t and I won’t because that’ll only end one way.

I pull my underwear on under the towel, apparently still in teenage-girl mode, and grab some pants and a sweater. I get dressed in record time and chuck the towel on my bed. I tease my wet hair into a high, loose bun in front of my bedroom mirror and apply minimal makeup before stepping out of my room.

And back in. And back out. And back in.

I’m doing the f**king Hokey Pokey.

Finally settling on ‘out,’ I walk into the front room and stop when I see Tyler standing in front of my window, his fists clenched at his sides. I grab my keys from the table and the noise must notify him of my presence because he turns.

His eyes meet mine and stay there. Tension zings between us, tightening with every second of silence that passes. He steps forward, just one step, but it’s enough to make me draw in a breath.

“We need to go,” he rasps, walking past me in strong strides.

I stay where I am, my keys in my palm, and stare at him. I’ve never felt tension like this. Wanting like this. He yanks open my front door and turns to look at me.

He yanks open my front door and turns to look at me. “Liv. We need to go,” he repeats, his voice just as husky. “Unless you want me to drag you back into your bedroom and remove those clothes, we need to f**king leave.”

Those words flip a switch in my brain and I all but run past him and down the stairs. I hear his footsteps echo in the stairwell behind me as I reach the small lobby and burst outside. It’s raining again, and no sooner have fat raindrops hit the top of my head than I’m pulled back inside by a strong arm around my stomach.

His body is hot against mine, his chest flush against my back, my ass curving against his erection. One of his hands is flat against my stomach, the other cupping my hip. He’s holding me steady in place, but my chest is rising and falling with my labored breaths.

I want him to hold me here, but at the same time, I wish he’d let go.

Tyler runs his nose across the back of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Careful,” he whispers. “You’ll get wet.”

“I’m not sure there’ll be a different outcome if I stay inside,” I breathe out, clasping my hands to my chest. Like having them there will slow my breathing and ease the steady yet strong pound of my heart.

He turns his face to the side of mine. “You smell incredible.” His voice is a whisper again, so quiet I can barely hear it. “You’re driving me crazy, Liv. I can’t decide if I need to f**k you or stay away from you.”

He releases me and wraps his jacket around my shoulders. I’m reeling from his words as I follow him silently to his car. Mostly from how alike his feelings are to mine, but also from how real they sound.

The way his voice cracked when he said “stay away.” The shake in his voice when he told me that I’m driving him crazy. They’re things that can’t be faked or forced.

7

“Funny-looking f**king restaurant,” I mutter, staring at the florist’s sign. The windows are packed with different flower arrangements, from pastel colors to bright colors, from small bouquets to large, fancy baskets. “What kind of florist opens on a Sunday?”

“The kind of florist who wants my cousin’s wedding under their belt,” Tyler replies. “I was told to come here so you can help her decide flowers. Then we’ll have lunch.”