Wild Temptation (Wild #1)(72)
Author: Emma Hart

I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose when my only choices will destroy us both.

He lets out a long, shuddery breath and holds me closer. “Don’t ask me to let you go now. Please.”

I can’t respond to that, so like the wimp I am, I pretend I’m asleep.

25

Lying on the bed on my stomach, with my chin propped on my hands and my legs kicking in the air behind me, I watch Tyler navigate the room with ease. He’s conveniently forgotten how to put on a T-shirt, it seems. Again.

Not that it’s a bad sight. The muscles in his back ripple as he bends over to pack his suitcase. His biceps flex, and when he stands up, he stretches up tall. The smattering of hair that runs down the center of his stomach joins with the top of his pubic hair. Hair that’s now in my view thanks to his stretch.

“Ty?”

“Yep?”

“You know how you love challenges?”

He pauses, bending at the waist, and looks at me over his shoulder. “Only if it’s you challenging me.”

“You know how you have to do it every time?”

“Where are you going with this?”

I tilt my head to the side. “I challenge you not to give me an orgasm for twenty-four hours.”

He raises his eyebrows and turns back to what he’s doing. “That won’t make sex very fun for you, then.”

“Uh, that’s not what I mean.” I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. “I challenge you not to have any kind of foreplay or sex with me for twenty-four hours.”

He stops dead, dropping the jeans he was holding. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re going to have to repeat that. I’m pretty sure I just heard you challenge me not to have sex with you for twenty-four hours, but that can’t be right.”

My lips twitch. “You heard me right.”

He straightens and grabs the rest of his things from the bathroom. He puts them in the zip pocket on the lid of his suitcase then closes it. The buzzing noise of him zipping it up fills the almost tense silence in the room.

“Twenty-four hours?” he repeats. “No sex? No orgasm? No foreplay?”

“Twenty-four hours with no sex,” I confirm. “Think you can do it?”

“Baby, I know I can do it. As long as you’re prepared to be flipped onto your knees and f**ked into next week at the end of it.”

I lick my lips. “I’m sure I can handle it.” I lean back on my hands. “You’re forgetting something really important, though.”

“What’s that?”

“In three hours’ time, we’ll be on a plane, in rather tight quarters, with a bed accessible and not a lot to do.”

His eyes darken. With heat or anger, I don’t know. Maybe it’s restrained temptation. But it’s the kind of darkness that’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

“Then you better find yourself something to do for sixteen hours that won’t make you wet or me hard.”

“Day packed me some  p**n  on a page, so I’ll manage.” I grin sassily. “How about you?”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “Well, I was planning on uploading the images from yesterday and editing. Of course, I was also planning to induct us into the mile high club right after. Since I no longer have that option, I’ll probably just wander around with my c**k raging hard and see if you can be around me and still keep to your challenge.”

“Hey, I challenged you to not give me an orgasm. I didn’t challenge it the other way around.”

He smirks and walks to me, pulling his hands from his pockets. He rests them over mine on the bed, his fingers falling between mine, and leans forward. “Liv, the challenge goes for both of us. I can only think of one reason why you’d challenge me to this, whether or not you’ll admit it.”

I meet his gaze steadily despite the thump of my heart. “And what reason would that be, smartass?”

“It would be the one where you’re still trying to convince yourself to give me a chance, and you want to see if we can be together in a way that isn’t physical.”

“Wrong.” I swallow my lie.

“You’re a lying bitch,” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing my lobe. “You’re racking up quite the adjectives to go with that nickname.”

“Bitch is my official nickname? Oh, wow. I feel so cherished.” I roll my eyes.

“No, ‘bitch’ isn’t your nickname.” He grins then darts forward, kissing me, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re my bitch, which makes your official nickname ‘Tyler’s Bitch.’”

“Does that make a huge difference?” I murmur as he runs his tongue along where his teeth just were.

“Yes. It makes the world of difference.”

“What, stick your name on an oddly affectionate but possibly insulting nickname and it makes it better?”

“It doesn’t have to make it better”—he runs his thumb along the curve of my jaw—“because it makes you mine. And it makes sure everyone else knows it, too.”

“But I’m not yours. Not really.”

“You are mine, Liv, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You’re mine when you’re wrapping your hand around my cock. You’re mine when your hands are bound and you’re at my mercy. You’re mine when your eyes are covered and you’re following my instructions. And you’re sure as f**king hell mine when you’re screaming my name at the end of it all.”

I shiver as his strong, certain words wash over me. He’s right, of course. I am his—physically, mentally, and a little bit emotionally. And that’s exactly what scares me.

Being as owned by him as he is by my addiction is terrifying.

“Now think about that,” he murmurs huskily, his thumb ghosting my bottom lip. “Think about that in twenty-four hours when your challenge is up and you’re bent in front of me, legs open, waiting for me to sink inside you. Think about that while you wait for it.”

“You’re a twat,” I whisper, using his word.

“I’m your twat. See? It makes a difference.” He kisses me again, curling his fingers around the back of my neck. “And I’m not ashamed to admit I’m yours. When you’re smiling at me, when you’re lying there in underwear you have no idea is sexy, when you’re f**king me and clinging to my hair like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment…I’m yours.”