Summer's Temptation (12 page)

“He’s cute.” His expression goes serious but in a mocking kind of way. “Should I be jealous that George shares a bed with you?”

I follow the flat planes of his stomach down to his trim hips and stop at his taunting zipper. I can make out the ridge of a growing bulge. “George doesn’t wear extra-large magnums.”

“Touché.” His eyes darken again, and he resumes uncovering my body. When everything but my calves are revealed, he throws the blanket and sheet into a pile at the foot of the bed.

“Come here,” I purr, hoping I don’t sound like a rabid cat. This seduction thing is new to me. The two boys I’ve been with always took the lead, leaving little for me to do except go along for the ride. I wonder if Tyler would let me take control every once in a while.

He hovers over me. His feet are still on the floor, but his body is bent over mine. He presses one delicate kiss to my lips and pauses. I think that’s all I’m going to get, and it’s
so
not enough. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him toward me. He loses his footing and lurches forward. His chest lands on mine, nearly crushing me, but I’m too lost in the way our mouths move together to care.

He settles next to me and deepens our kiss; the dark stubble on his jaw rasps against my skin. I lift his shirt, let my fingers trace the ridges of muscle on his stomach. His skin is smooth and soft and warm, everything I imagined it’d be.

He groans into my mouth, “Cupcake, we need to stop.” But his hands still glide over my body, traveling every curve.

“No, we don’t.” I move my hand lower, pressing my palm against his zipper.

When he hisses, I know I’ve got him right where I want him. More urgently, his hands skim down my neck, over my shoulders, across my breasts. He kneads them roughly before heading toward my stomach. When he touches me between my legs, I stifle a gasp of hot pleasure. I haven’t been caressed intimately in too long, and my body is heated and ready. Though his fingers slide over fabric and not skin, I feel the sweet tension build in my core.

“Yes,” I moan into his mouth. “Please don’t stop.”

He pushes the heel of his hand against me, hitting just the right spot. I’m like a compressed coil, ready to shoot up at the slightest release. I place my hand over his, molding him harder against me. My hips move with him, my flesh pushing into his palm. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, embarrassment tries to rear up for acting so shameless after only a few kisses, but that part of me is buried beneath a heavy layer of lust.

“Christ, cupcake,” Tyler growls, his breathing as uneven as mine.

I press harder against him, and his hand moves faster. “Please don’t stop.”

I’m so close. So freakin’ close. If he’d just move his hand a little higher, I’d tip over the edge. I guide him to exactly the right spot. My hips jerk, and for a precious moment, the world stops as a wave of ecstasy crashes through me.

“Oh, God!” I cry out.

I bite down on his lower lip, coming hard and fast. All I see are popping bursts of light behind my closed eyelids. A scream rips from my throat. His hand keeps moving, and I keep coming. Tremor after tremor rocks my body. I’m stuck on a cloud of pure rapture. Lightning strikes all around me. I’m vaguely aware of how vulnerable I am, but I’m too awash in pleasure to care.

Slowly, I float down from heaven. Tiny aftershocks, reminders of how good he’s made me feel, shake my body. When the last tremor completes its path to my toes, I lay still beside him, spent and delightfully sated for the first time in months. His face is buried in my neck, his hand unmoving but pressed against me. His breath shudders against my skin. A few moments of heavy breathing stretches between us before I come to my senses and let what just happened settle over me.

My hand still holds his in place. I tentatively remove mine and clench it by my side. He doesn’t take the hint, continuing to cup my sex as if he’s claiming it as his own. That’s silly since we’re both fully dressed, and he’s not the type to claim anything belonging to a girl. The embarrassment that had been relegated to the back of my mind pushes forward. Did I really just come that fast and that easily?

Tyler kisses the tender skin below my ear and moves his hand away, but not without a gentle squeeze first. “You okay, cupcake?”

I nibble my bottom lip and stare at the ceiling. “I haven’t gotten off like that since high school.”

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with heated arrogance. “I haven’t gotten a girl off like that since high school.”

I hide my face in my hands, burning hotter than a firecracker. “This is so mortifying.”

He pulls my hands down and nuzzles my cheek. “I’d do it fifty more times if I could hear you scream like that again.” If his cocky vibrato is any indicator, he’s taking full responsibility for my quick trigger. His lips tip up in a smug grin. “I thought you were going to bite my lip off.”

My gaze drops to his mouth, and sure enough, teeth marks pock his bottom lip. I run a finger over the angry skin. “Sorry.”

His lips tip higher. “Actually, it was hot.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “Better than your vibrator?” he mumbles against my mouth.

I sigh contentedly. “No contest.”

“Good. Now that you’re taken care of, I’ve got to run.”

I slide my calf over his and rub from his ankle to his knee. “I’m not done with you yet.” Far be it from me to deny him his due.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as though he’s mustering energy or maybe willpower. When he opens them, they’re full of regret. “Can’t, cupcake.”

I’m still basking in the afterglow of my orgasm, and I pull him close to kiss him. “Why?”

“Rule six,” he says, pressing against me so that our bodies are flush.

His mouth coaxes mine open, and he moans as his tongue delves inside, tasting me. With the way he’s kissing me, I can’t think, let alone recall all the rules of our new relationship.

“What’s rule six again?”

His lips find my neck. He kisses down to my chest, his hands pressing into my hips. “I can’t have sex with you on the same night I’m with another girl.”

Holy hell!
I jerk back as if I’m about to kiss a skunk’s behind. Images of Tyler with another girl fill my head. “Oh, my God!”

He lifts up, shaggy bangs hanging in his eyes, and smiles ruefully. “I’m really regretting that rule right now.”

“Where has your mouth been?” I say quietly, dreading his answer.

“All over Alexis and Olivia. You should thank them, because while I was with them, I was thinking of you.” He chuckles. “Congratulations, cupcake. You distracted me from a threesome.”

I think I’m going to be sick. I plant both hands on his chest, push with all my strength, and shove him off the bed. “Asshole!”

He lands with a loud thump. “We’ve already established that.”

In one giant leap, I bound over him, tear the door open, and rush straight for the kitchen. Mouthwash ain’t gonna murder the filth swimming in my mouth. If I didn’t think it’d kill me, I’d slosh kerosene, but a pint of vodka will have to do.

“I brushed my teeth before I came over,” he calls.

I turn back to see him rubbing his shoulder. “You’re a disgusting pig!” Whirling back around, I dart into the kitchen.

“I tried to leave. Don’t forget that.” He shrugs into his button-up and saunters toward me as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I’m such an idiot. Why did I have to coax him to stay? I pull the vodka from the cupboard and dump it into a coffee mug. “Just get out of here, Tyler, before I castrate you.” While I take a huge drink, I head for the sink and begin the process of decontamination, sloshing the alcohol like there’s no tomorrow.

Tyler has the nerve to walk up and kiss my cheek. “Call me when you need a refill.”

I contemplate spitting the vodka in his face, but that would just be tacky. I spew it into the sink. “I’m not calling you after you probably gave me herpes.”

He pats my bottom. “Sure, you’re not.” He strolls to the back door and, just before he closes it, winks at me. “Talk to you later, cupcake.”

Why does he keep calling me that?

Chapter 12

L
eaving my house with my backpack slung over my shoulder, I can’t help but peer toward Tyler’s house and the window that overlooks our yard. The blinds are drawn tight. I haven’t seen Tyler in four days. Josh and Dylan have come over twice, but their roommate is mysteriously missing.

I’m guessing he fears my wrath, or maybe he’s smarter than I give him credit for and he’s giving me distance and time to decide if I really want to go through with the “hug buddy” thing. Right now, I’m not so sure.

When he gave me a mind blowing orgasm with only his hand, I was all on board, but five seconds later, he ruined the moment as only Tyler can. I was kissing a man who’d done God-knows-what to two other women that night. The ick factor tore apart my grand plans.

If I made a decision right now, it’d be no. Being with a guy who’s screwing other girls is skanky. At the same time, if he weren’t with other girls, our arrangement would be exclusive, one step away from calling him my boyfriend, and that won’t do either.

I sigh and sling my backpack higher on my shoulder. This is more complicated than I’d anticipated. I wish I’d thought it through more before approaching Tyler. Now it’s not just me waiting on my decision. He is too, though I doubt he’s pining away, eagerly anticipating my answer. If he is eagerly waiting, he’s doing it with a girl under each arm.

He’s such a man-whore. A really hot man-whore with a killer ass. Not to mention perfect abs, delectable pecs, and a kiss that curls my toes. Of course I can’t forget the Magnum XL package. I’d like to find out how big a man has to be to wear those. I shiver just thinking about it.

Perfect. I’m heading to Mr. Westbrook’s class, horny as a toad.

I’m so lost in scandalous thoughts about Tyler, I walk right past the campus bakery and have to backtrack. I head inside and pick up breakfast for Dan. As I leave, my mind returns to naughty images of Tyler. I bite my lip hard, clear my mind, and force myself to concentrate on my surroundings.

After my mind goes blessedly blank, I only hear the rustle of leaves and birds singing. Laughter pierces the serene quiet. I turn to see who’s cackling and catch Tyler walking out of the biology building. By his side is a tall, lanky girl wearing large-framed glasses, a tucked-in T-shirt a size too big, and baggy jeans held up by a thin belt. The duo pause by the door and talk with their hands flying around their faces. I’m too far away to hear them clearly, but based on the rapid movement of their lips and determined set to their jaws, I think they’re arguing.

The girl snickers and shakes her head so vigorously, her giant glasses slip down her nose. As she pushes them back up, Tyler laughs and launches into a monologue that lasts at least a minute. She shakes her head again, drops her book bag, and kneels down to open it. While he’s chuckling, she pulls out a book, flips through the pages, and holds it up for him to see. He squints, reading, then his laughter dies, and he frowns. I think she just won the argument.

I’ve stopped walking, too caught up in watching this different side of Tyler. The Tyler I know entices girls to lift their shirts for Mardi Gras beads in the middle of November. I’ve seen countless girls give him a show. This girl would never flash anything riskier than her biology notes, yet he’s more caught up in her than any half-naked chick at a party.

Then the inevitable happens. A cute girl walks by wearing a tank top and daisy dukes, and Tyler’s attention finds a new direction—the cute girl’s derriere. Baggy-jean girl smacks him in the arm with her book, but she’s still smiling. Tyler shrugs, and they head off together toward the physical science building.

I walk again too, not wanting to be late for class. As I go, I wonder what I don’t know about Tyler, which is dangerous. He’s just a hug buddy, and maybe not even that since I can’t decide if I want to go through with it or not. I have to admit, after seeing that little show, I’m leaning more toward yes. He’s damn sexy when he argues with a brainy girl.

I peer back one last time and stop briefly to watch his long legs eat the distance between buildings. He opens the door for baggy-jean girl, and when he does, he glances straight at me. I expect a cocky smirk, maybe even a wink, but he just stands there and stares back. I wish I could see the depths of his blue eyes. I bet they’re swimming with heart-melting warmth after his bout of good-natured arguing.

A flush creeps across my cheeks. I feel it as warmth blossoms under my skin. I take a deep breath and look away first. As I expel air from my lungs, I turn from him, but I still feel his stare prickling my back. If I had to make the decision now, it’d definitely be yes. I want those eyes of his so close to mine, I can see every shade of blue they hold.

When I make it to Murral Hall, Philosopher Dan is standing in his normal spot beneath a light pole. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that says God is Good and smiling like the only cock in a henhouse, which I guess is fitting since he’s surrounded by three pretty coeds.

To the short, round girl directly in front of him, he says, “You got a mind like a diamond and a heart like a tiger. Stop clawing at everyone who tries to love you. Not everyone be tryin’ to deceive you.”

Her tall, blond friend claps her hands together. “Oh, my God! I told her she looked hot in that blouse this morning, and she went ballistic on me!”

“I do
not
look
hot
in this blouse!” the round girl says, chin jutting with indignation. Truthfully, she does look nice in the shirt. It narrows her waist and shows a little cleavage. The pale blue goes perfectly with her eyes.

“See?” the other friend says. “The woman cannot take a compliment.”

“Whatever.” The short girl marches away, obviously a victim of low self-esteem.

The two girls smile apologetically at Dan and scurry after their friend.

Dan just shakes his head, the twinkle in his eyes never dimming. His smile widens when he sees me. “Hey, pretty girl. You bring me some breakfast?”

“Of course. But I expect some words of wisdom as payment.” As intuitive as he is, I’m hoping he’ll shed light on what I should do about Tyler.

He rubs his chin, face tilted toward the sky. “What you think this girl need to know?” He nods as if someone in the sky is answering his question. “You don’t say. Well, I’ll be damned.”

I’ve always known Philosopher Dan is a little kooky. I mean, the man spends his days on a street corner giving students bits of wisdom, but now I see how deep his eccentricities run.

“All righty then,” he says. He smiles straight at me. “You gotta kiss a lot of toads before you find your prince, pretty girl.” He holds his hand out for the brown paper bag.

I snatch it away. “You were talking to God, and that’s the best you can come up with?”

He rolls his eyes as if I’m the loopy one. “I was talking to an angel. Ain’t no one talk to God. That’s a one-way conversation. He may hear it, but he sends his angels to answer.”

“I know an
angel
did not tell you to talk about toads.” I snort at how ridiculous I sound, but I was really hoping for something good like, “You only live once so get your jollies with the hot guy next door.”

“I say it like I see it,” Dan says. “You got a long road ahead of you, pretty girl, but you gettin’ there, you gettin’ there. You ain’t gettin’ there like most other girls, but everyone got their path. Yours just a little different. A little rockier. The truth’ll come out slower.” He taps his temple. “Keep your mind sharp and your eyes open. Not everything’s what it seems.”

I hold the bag out to Dan. “I have no idea what you just said, but here’s your sandwich.”

He takes the sack and chuckles. “You bring me mustard too?”

“In the bag.” I wave good-bye and walk toward class, where I’m sure I’ll spend the whole lecture trying to figure out a believable excuse to refuse dinner with Mr. Westbrook. No point in procrastinating.

I wish I could tell Freddy about the invitation—he’s the king of weaseling out of uncomfortable situations—but he’d try to convince me that Mr. Westbrook’s hot for me. I don’t need him swaying me into believing there’s more between Mr. Westbrook and me than there really is.

I shake my head and sigh. For a girl swearing off men, I sure am eyeballs deep in them.

I’m at a small Saturday night party at the neighbors’ house, crammed into a corner of the living room while Liz drapes a hand over my shoulder. Dylan stands behind Hannah with both arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head. Josh is going on about a football game he played sophomore year and the interception he caught that helped win the game. His audience has beers, slightly glazed eyes, and polite smiles plastered on our faces. I can tell Liz is stifling a yawn because her gray eyes water and her smile tightens. I’m next in line for smothering a yawn, and my eyes dampen while my smile stretches in an effort to subdue it.

Please. God. Help. Me.

Josh is only capable of talking about wakeboarding or football, and I don’t care about either. I’m about to feign a bathroom break when my nose catches a whiff of a spicy, masculine scent, like nutmeg or star anise, mixed with something fresher like crisp, clean linens.

Tyler’s in the vicinity.

Liz mutters a curse when he shoulders her aside and edges next to me. I draw in a deeper breath, reveling in how good he smells. I don’t think he’s wearing cologne. Tyler doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d douse himself in a smelly spray. His scent’s probably just a mixture of soap and laundry detergent. It practically makes me swoon, though I’ll never tell him that.

He leans down next to my ear. “Still mad at me?”

“Yes.” Despite how good he smells, I’m still annoyed he kissed me after doing god-knows-what to two skanks.

“I tried to leave,” he whispers.

“Could have tried harder.”

His knuckles skim my spine and stop just above my tailbone. “Never underestimate the power of your rack, cupcake.”

I flush as much from his touch as his words. Liz narrows her eyes at us. I’m sure she knows what’s going on. Hannah’s eyes widen. She has no clue, but I have a feeling she’s putting two and two together. Josh obliviously drones on, talking loud enough to cover up my conversation with Tyler.

“Why do you call me cupcake?” I ask.

His hands slide to my hips, and my breath catches. He pulls me against him, my rear pressed into his crotch. It’s a tiny movement, and the room’s dim enough that nobody seems to notice. His body is hard where I’m soft, and I clench my hands to keep from touching him.

His hand twists in my hair, and he gently tugs my head back until his lips are almost touching my ear. His hot breath shudders against my skin. “Because you’ve got chocolate hair and chocolate eyes and a creamy middle I want to delve my tongue into.”

My breath catches in my throat, making a kind of shrieking noise. Every eye turns to me. Tyler releases my hair as I slap my hand over my mouth.

Through my fingers, I say, “Sorry! Just a beer burp. Go on, Josh.”

Josh smirks and continues with his story.

I’m such an idiot. I’d thought he’d say something cute like, “Because you’re so sweet.” When he turned a Hostess snack cake dirty, I couldn’t stop the shock.

I lean back and turn my head so he can hear me whisper, “Move on, Tyler. You’re making me nervous.”

He pats my bottom like I’ve seen him do to countless girls, and the gesture reminds me I’m one of a hundred. “Text me when you need me.”

He saunters off, and I can’t help but watch him go. His jeans make his ass look delectable enough for an underwear shoot, and his black T-shirt fits snug across his wide shoulders, giving him the perfect T physique. My mouth dries as I imagine dragging my nails down his spine while he lands hard kisses on my neck.

Liz elbows me in the ribs. “Close your mouth, you whore.”

I snap my mouth shut and hope no one noticed my leering. Hannah grabs my hand, startling me.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says cheerily, but worry darkens her blue eyes.

Josh is still talking, and he raises a disapproving eyebrow at her. She shrugs and hands her beer to Dylan.

“Girls go in packs. Yada, yada, yada.” With that, she tugs me forward, and we hurry down the hall. She shoves me through the bathroom door and closes it behind us. She turns on me, eyes narrowed. “What is going on with you and Tyler?”

“Um… nothing,” I say, sitting on the lip of the tub and setting my beer next to me. I feel guilty the instant I deflect her question. Hannah and I tell each other everything, but I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed in me for having a fuck buddy, and there’re few things worse than a friend’s disapproval.

“That was
not
nothing.” She paces, which looks ridiculous since she can only go three feet before the wall forces her to turn and pace the other way. “Are you and him… fu-hug buddies?”

“Uh… no.” Technically we’re not since we haven’t had sex. “At least… not yet.”

She faces me, looking awfully severe for a girl in kitten heels and pearls. “You’re thinking about it?”

I nod slowly, as if answering her question in slow-mo will somehow make it less real.

“I’m going to kill Liz!” Hannah cries, throwing her hands in the air. “That list we made was
supposed
to be for fun! She talked you into doing it, didn’t she?”