Summer's Temptation (13 page)

I nibble on my bottom lip, worried for Liz’s wellbeing if Hannah gets ahold of her. “I made the decision, not Liz. Don’t go all ninja on her.”

She leans down and grabs both my shoulders. “Have you already had sex with him?” With each word, she shakes me hard.

“No.” I blink rapidly, feeling a little sick from all the jiggling.

“Good.” She releases my shoulders and smooths the fabric of my shirt, probably trying to remove the wrinkles she put there. “Then it’s not too late for you to back out.”

“I’m not backing out.” I won’t risk ending up in a disastrous relationship that finishes off my grades when I can keep myself satisfied with Tyler.

“Cassie, you’re making a deal with the devil. Tyler is grade-A asshole. He’ll hurt you.”

“He can’t hurt me if I go into it knowing it’s just sex.” I mean yes, there’s always the chance I could fall for him, but that’s what the rules are for and why I picked a guy who’s not my type. “It’ll be fine.”

She sits next to me, her shoulders sag, and her perky chest caves in. “Why are you giving up on relationships? Look at me and Dylan. Things don’t always go bad.”

“You have the only nice guy on campus. I’m happy for you. You deserve him. But I can’t live waiting for a Dylan to happen by, because he won’t. Even if he did, I won’t risk falling in love again.” I draw in a deep breath. “If I never fall in love again, I’ll never get hurt again.”

She plays with her pearls, staring toward the door. “This is what you want?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I still don’t approve.”

“Hannah, I love you, and I know you’re saying this because you love me too, but I have to live my own life. This is what I need. Being with another guy might even help me get over Wyatt.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, still fiddling with her necklace. “I want to castrate Wyatt for hurting you so much.”

I pat her knee, very aware I seem to be comforting her when I’m the one in need of reassurance. “Sometimes I do too.”

“If a hug buddy is really what you want, I’ll support you, but I think you’re heading for disaster.”

“What could go wrong? Tyler and I get to enjoy each other without the constraints of a relationship. It’s perfect.”

She sighs, lifting her head off my shoulder. “It’s not perfect. Sex is complicated.”

“Everything will be fine. I promise.” I sound so sure, I almost believe myself. Before Hannah can launch another attack against Tyler, I stand, grab her hand, and pull her up. “Come on. We need to save Liz and Dylan from Josh.”

An hour later, I’m sitting on the fireplace ledge with Liz, finishing off my second beer. I’ve got a nice buzz and my cell in my hand. The combination pushes me to make my move with Tyler. I punch in a text.
Leaving in 30. You’re welcome to join me.
I’m just about to hit send when I see him heading down the hall toward his bedroom with a blonde, her index fingers hitched into the belt loops of his jeans.

A flare of jealousy rises inside me, surprising in its intensity. I’m not jealous he’s about to bed another girl. I’m jealous she’s getting what I want—Tyler in her panties. Fueled by my buzz, I hit send. I know it’s immature, but I want to see if he’ll choose me over her.

Tyler stops and pulls his cell from his pocket. He turns toward the girl, probably so she can’t read the text. I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do. He looks over the blonde’s head at me, and one side of his mouth slides up in a cocky grin. I know it’s petty—we haven’t even had sex yet—but if he does choose her, this is the last time my name will light up his phone.

I hold his gaze, waiting for his decision. His attention drops to his phone, and his fingers glide over the keypad. A second later, my phone lights up.
I’ll be at your place in 45.

It’s my turn for a cocky grin, and when I peer up, he’s backing the girl out of the hall, toward the kitchen. She doesn’t appear happy. He glances at me, sees my smile, and punches something else in his phone. My cell lights up.
This won’t happen again.

My grin falters. So much for being a priority. But if I were a priority, I might read too much into it. I have to give him shit anyway.
Asshole,
I text.

Always and forever
, he texts back.

Chapter 13

T
wenty minutes later, I excuse myself from the party so I have time to freshen up. While walking home, I text Tyler.
Back door will be open.

I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth, then I check my legs for stubble. Sure enough, they’re prickly. I decide a quick shower’s in order and hop in to shave everything baby-bottom smooth. My nerves don’t kick in until I get out and actually consider what Tyler and I are about to do.

For me, sex has always been organic. Even when I lost my virginity, I hadn’t been nervous because the process had flowed naturally. Jeremy and I had kissed, then we touched. Touching led to shedding clothes. Shedding clothes led to more touching, and before I knew it, he was buried hilt-deep inside me. I’d been so turned on, my first time hardly hurt.

Every time after had been the same. I never expected sex. It just happened naturally. But nothing’s natural about tonight because the expectation is there. We’re going to have sex. I know it, Tyler knows it, and it’s turning my stomach into knots.

After combing the tangles from my damp hair, I stroll down the hall, wrapped in only a towel. I have no idea what I should wear. Pondering my options, I walk into my room.

“You look good wet, cupcake.”

I shriek, slapping my palm to my chest. My heart beats double-time beneath my surging breastbone. Tyler’s reclined on my bed, hands clasped behind his head and long legs crossed at the ankles. With dark hair hanging shaggy across his forehead, hard biceps framing his face, and sparkling blue eyes, he looks like a god in repose. An Adonis to be more specific. My gaze slides down the length of him, and the knots in my stomach turn into bands of steel.

His mouth curves up in an amused smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I suck in a deep breath, willing my heart to calm as I walk to my closet. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Hard to stay away when I knew what was waiting for me.”

I keep my back to him because his comment makes my cheeks flush, evidence of the very little flirting I’ve done in my life. “Did anyone see you?” I try to keep my words steady.

“Nope. Came in through the back door. No one’s the wiser.”

“Good.” I hate the tremor in my voice. He acts so cool and composed while my insides are battening down the hatches against a category-five hurricane. Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea. I toss that thought aside as quickly as it enters my brain. This is the hottest idea I’ve had in ages, and it’s what I need.

I open my closet, which is an accordion style, so there’s no escaping him to change. Considering what we’re about to do, I should just throw the towel aside and climb into bed naked, but that’s too vixenish and totally not me. If I’m going to survive unscathed, I need foreplay and lots of it, the kind where he takes his time undressing me. I’m not even sure going slow will ease my nerves.

The first time will be the hardest
. I grab a blue silk robe my sister gave me for Christmas and slip my arms inside. As soon as I’m covered, I let the towel fall. When the terry cloth puddles at my feet, I swear I hear Tyler hiss. I peer over my shoulder at him.

His gaze is locked on the towel, and his hands are fisting the comforter, turning white at the knuckles. “Don’t bother with underwear.”

So much for slowly undressing me, but I do as he says. He has more experience with these kinds of illicit liaisons, and only having a thin layer of silk between him and my most private parts might be the turn-on that revs my engines and makes the knots in my stomach loosen.

He sits up, resting his back against the headboard, and pats a spot next to him. “Come here.”

After I secure the sash around my waist, I saunter over. The mattress dips as I crawl next to him. He’s staring at my chest, but not in a horny, brain-dead kind of way. His brows are furrowed as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“You’re either turned on or scared shitless,” he whispers, staring at my breasts.

I peer down, and I’m startled by the heavy rise and fall of my chest. My rapid breathing reminds me of Princess Catherine on her wedding day, when her chest had been heaving from nerves.

He takes my hand and draws me close until I’m nestled in the crook of his arm. “Which is it?” He brushes his lips across my knuckles.

“Scared shitless,” I answer breathily.

“We don’t have to do this, cupcake.”

“I want to.”

I’m being somewhat truthful. Only about ninety percent of my brain is calling me an idiot for sleeping with Tyler Mason, playboy extraordinaire. The other ten percent’s obsessing over the Magnum XL in his pants. He threads his long fingers through mine, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by how graceful they are. He has artist’s fingers, the kind that should play the piano or draw angels on ceilings of cathedrals.

“We could just talk,” he says.

“That breaks rule number five.”

“There doesn’t have to be any rules.”

Oh yes, there does. Over the last week, I’ve found myself thinking about Tyler more than I should, and we haven’t even had sex yet. If I let him into my personal life by telling him about my family, friends, or dreams, it’ll only get worse, and I can’t risk that.

As if reading my mind, he says, “I know how to be an asshole when I need to be.”

Therein lies the secret to keeping my feelings separate from Tyler. All I have to do is count on him to piss me off, which is one-hundred percent guaranteed.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.

He smiles. “Who’d you lose your virginity to?”

I chuckle. Leave it to him to point all conversations toward sex. “That’s a personal question.”

He shrugs. “Just curious.”

I’m actually pleased with the question. Of all the topics he could choose, this one’s safe. We’re about to have sex, so why not talk about it beforehand? “Jeremy Park. Senior year of high school.”

“Did you love him?”

“Completely and totally. We’d been together since second semester, sophomore year.”

Tyler flinches, his big body jerking beneath mine. “He waited that long?”

“He loved me too.” At least I thought he did. A month before school was out senior year, he had sex with Lori Plum. After that, I wasn’t sure what had been real in our relationship and what hadn’t.

“Why’d you break up?”

“Went to different colleges.” I doubt he cares that both of my relationships ended with infidelity. Not being able to hold onto a man just makes me sound pathetic.

“Your second was Wyatt?”

I nod, trying not to let his name darken my mood. Two months, and I still hurt.

Tyler squeezes my hand. “He was an idiot to dump you for Debbie.”

“I hate that everyone knows why he left me,” I grumble. Being dumped is bad enough without the rumor mill spreading details about our breakup the same day it happened. For weeks, people I hardly knew were patting me on the back and telling me what a dumbass Wyatt was.

“People pay attention to you. They know about Wyatt because they want to know what’s going on in your life.”

I snort and shake my head. “They want to know what’s going on in
his
life, not mine.”

“Not true. You were Michelle to his Obama. I hate to say this ‘cause the guy’s a dick, but you two made a good couple. I always thought I’d see you in the paper twenty years from now, standing next to the asshat, and the headline would read,
New Governor Elected.
There’d be pictures of you playing host at some philanthropy dinner, wearing a hot-as-hell dress. They’d compare you to Jackie Kennedy, and the only reason Wyatt’d win a second term would be because of you.”

I groan. I thought the same thing. Well, not the Jackie Onassis part or the second term part, but the rest is spot on. I’ve got to work on my transparency. I sit up higher, determined to change the subject before we get bogged down in my breakup. I smile, though it’s feeble at best. “Who did you lose your virginity to?”

A lost look bears down on him full force, making it appear as if a wall has been shoved between him and the world. His expression darkens, jaw firm, lips smashed together. He forces a smile from a face that seems incapable of anything but a scowl. “It’s hazy.”

“Everyone remembers their first time,” I say, prodding him.

The words are barely out of my mouth before he somehow manages to roll my body beneath his in one smooth move. I don’t even have time to squeal. I’m staring up at him, trying to figure out how I went from sitting against the headboard to lying down with his broad chest pressed against mine.

“Tyler—”

He silences me with a kiss, sweet, delicate, and distracting. His tongue glides over my bottom lip, pausing to delve over the slick skin just beyond, then he dives into my mouth. He tastes like stale beer and cigarettes, something I usually hate. With Tyler, anything else would be wrong. I spar with his tongue until his lips press more forcefully against mine, demanding I take him seriously. I comply when he kisses me deeper, harder, hungrier.

I barely notice his knees nudging my legs open until he presses against my sensitive flesh, jeans to skin. The texture is rough and grating. I hate it. I want skin to skin, and with eager fingers, I find his belt buckle and unlatch it.

“You’re sneaky,” I mumble, kissing the dark stubble on his jaw and following the hard angle to his lips.

He lifts to allow easy access to his zipper. “Does that bother you?”

I shake my head, my lips brushing softly against his. “No. I like it.”

His kiss has drawn me from nervous to ready in a second flat. It bodes well for our arrangement that he can incite me so quickly. I pinch the metal tab of his zipper and lower it one deliberately slow rung at a time.

He growls and cups my hand. “Stop torturing me.” He jerks my hand down, dragging the zipper to the metal stop.

“You’re not just sneaky. You’re impatient too.” But so am I.

I reach inside and palm the bulge pressing against his boxers. He groans as I grasp the thick width of him and run my hand to the tip. I gasp, stunned by the sheer length of him that ends at his belly button. Combined with his width, he’s going to be an intimidating conquest.

“You okay, cupcake?” he asks, assaulting my neck with rough kisses.

“Fine,” I squeak.

He lifts long enough for me to twine my fingers into the hem of his shirt and pull it up. It passes between us, up over his head, and I throw it on the floor. That’s where I want the rest of his clothes, but before I can slide his jeans down his hips, he takes my mouth again. His lips moves languidly and forcefully all at the same time. The combination’s intoxicating.

He kneels between my legs, his body hovering a few inches over mine, I’m about to protest by pulling him flush with me when I realize why he’s distancing himself from me. His hand slides between my breasts, his knuckles grazing my bare skin as he inches my robe open. He stops at the sash tied at my waist. Slowly, he pulls one side of the ribbon toward my hipbone. The bow unravels.

He leaves my mouth and tugs the robe away from my shoulder, trailing kisses across my collarbone. His lips seductively press against my skin. “This is like unwrapping a Christmas present.” He draws in a deep breath, and I feel the inhalation of air all the way down to my toes. “The expensive kind my parents couldn’t afford.”

My breathing’s erratic, but I can still tease him. “You asked for a high-dollar prostitute?”

He chuckles against my neck. “A sixty-inch flat screen. Never got the damn thing until I saved up for it myself.”

“Oh, you poor darling.”

He rests his forehead against mine and stares at me with mischievous, sparkling blue eyes. “You’ve never experienced porn until you’ve seen it on
my
TV.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “You’re killing the moment, Tyler.”

His gaze goes to my lips. “I want to try that.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about until he nibbles on my bottom lip.

“Mmm, I could do this all night”—his tongue glides across my nipped skin, soothing it—“but I’ve got a present to unwrap.”

His fingers slip beneath my robe, sliding the silk open. I’m overcome with unexpected anxiety. Only two men have seen me naked, and they undressed me gradually over months. Their hands had explored every inch of my body before they took off a single item of clothing, and their touch bred familiarity. When I finally lay naked before them, it felt as inviting and comfortable as sinking into a warm bath.

Right now, I’m anything but comfortable. I grab his wrists before he can unwrap more of my body. I must be as stiff as a board beneath him because my every muscle’s on lockdown.

“Easy, cupcake,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Breathe.”

I draw in a long breath, not realizing I’ve been holding it. My eyes are shut tight, and I bite my bottom lip as I ease my grasp on him.

His hand skims my breastbone soothingly. “One more breath.”

I do as he asks, willing myself to relax.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers.

“I want to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” I remind myself that I chose this.

His hands glide over my skin, tugging the robe away. He’s not kissing me anymore, too busy exploring with hands and eyes. My robe is completely open, the fabric resting at my sides. He’s not even touching me, and I fight the urge to hide myself. My fingernails bite into his skin as I come to terms with what’s really causing my unease. Tyler doesn’t love me.

A man who loves a woman overlooks her imperfections. Maybe that was why I hadn’t felt timid being undressed in front of Jeremy and Wyatt. This is different. Tyler’s seen so many girls, and since I’m not being filtered through loving eyes, how can I possibly compare? I keep my eyes squeezed shut and pray we can get back to kissing and caressing soon. Being on display for a guy I hardly know sucks.

In my mind, I catalog all the faults he’s noticing—hips that are too wide, a waist not narrow enough, a right breast that’s a little bigger than the left.

The belittling voice in my head quiets when I hear him say, “Jesus, Cassie. Jenna Jameson would be jealous.”

I open my eyes to see his gaze flicking from one part of my body to the next and back again, as if he’s not sure what he likes best. His fingertip traces a nipple, my belly button, then a hipbone. As he’s outlining body parts, he drags his bottom lip into his mouth, closes his eyes, and moans as if he’s in pain. It’s the most real sound I’ve ever heard, and it says everything I need to hear. I’m beautiful. I’m perfect. I’m desirable.