Summer's Temptation

Home > Other > Summer's Temptation > Page 11
Summer's Temptation Page 11

by Ashley Lynn Willis


  Her gaze darts back to the sky, and her eyebrows knit together. “Nothing. I mean, that’s all I had to tell you. I, uh… I just wanted to know if you’d like to come…” She swallows loud enough to hear. “You know, so we could spend more time together.”

  What is she trying to keep from me that warrants an invitation to Transformers? When I hit on the only logical explanation, my heart does a happy dance and my stomach drops all at the same time. “Is Dylan going to propose?”

  She scoffs, but it sounds forced. “No. Not yet. How are you and Mr. Westbrook doing?”

  I know a bait-and-switch when I hear one, but I go along with it. If Hannah is getting engaged, I’ll be deliriously happy for her, but it’ll take a few days to get there. I’m not sure learning about her happily-ever-after in the spot I used to study stars with the love of my life would help.

  “Well?” Hannah asks.

  Right. She asked about Mr. Westbrook. “He asked me to dinner.”

  Hannah bolts upright and peers down at me. “No way!”

  I groan. If anyone would construe this as a budding romance, it’s her. “He wants to take me out as a thank you for helping him with a book.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Do you think he likes you, or does he really just want to thank you?”

  I sit up and gnaw on my thumbnail. “He’s my teacher.”

  “So? Plenty of girls have dated teachers. They just keep it under wraps until they’re out of their class.”

  “There’s nothing going on between us.” And there never will be. “Besides, I’m going to find a way out of it.”

  “You’re hopeless, Cassie. How are you ever going to find the one if you keep pushing guys away?” As I gnaw on another fingernail, Hannah pries my hand away from my mouth. “You know, it’s not the end of the world if you start dating again.”

  “Easy for you to say. You have Mr. Perfect worshiping at your feet.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Dylan is not the only perfect man in the world. Maybe if you’d give another guy a try, you’d find that out.”

  “It’s not worth the risk,” I whisper. Love is not in my cards for the time being. If I can accept that and move on, my friends need to also. “Let’s just drop it. Okay?” If she keeps pressing, I’m afraid I’ll divulge that tomorrow at our neighbors’ party, I’m planning on asking Tyler to be my fuck buddy.

  “Fine.” She pouts, her pink bottom lip protruding a hair further than her top, but she lies back down.

  I’m sure she won’t give up on me forever. If there’s one thing I’ve always known about Hannah, it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic. Sometimes I wish I were too.

  Chapter 9

  “What’s the plan?” Liz asks, scanning my outfit as I walk out of the bathroom.

  I’m dressed more seductively than normal in a scoop-neck shirt and shorts that hit high on my thighs. Nude sandal wedges make my legs appear longer, and loose curls cascade down my back in an effort to make me as tempting as possible.

  “I haven’t seen you dressed this sexy since Wyatt took you to the spring formal¸” she adds.

  My gut clenches at the mention of my ex, but I smile and bat my eyelashes as though I’m not bothered at all. “Tonight’s the night.”

  After this evening, Mr. Westbrook will no longer tempt me with his invitations to dinner. In fact, nobody will tempt me because I’ll be gassing up my willpower with one hot Mr. Mason.

  “You’re going to ask Tyler to be your fuck buddy?”

  “Hug Buddy,” I correct her. My gut’s no longer clenching; it’s filled with mutant butterflies sporting foot-long wingspans. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I head to the kitchen for some confidence-in-a-bottle.

  Liz follows me. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  I grab the bottle of Jose Cuervo from the freezer and a shot glass from the cupboard. “You’re not talking me out of this. I might get laid for the first time in two months.” While I’m nervous about approaching Tyler, the dream of an earth-quaking orgasm overrides my fear of rejection.

  Liz grabs a shot glass and sets it on the counter next to mine. “I’m not planning on talking you out of anything. I just want to make sure he doesn’t fuck with your head or your heart.”

  “He won’t, I promise. I’ve even come up with rules to keep my emotions in check.” I fill my glass and slam it back, coughing and sputtering as the tequila blazes down my esophagus. I’m not a fan of hard liquor, but it’s fast, efficient, and thorough, the exact three things I want from Tyler. I smirk at the correlation.

  Liz holds her glass out for a shot. “Let’s hear ‘em.”

  As I fill her glass to the rim, I say, “First, he can’t tell anybody about our arrangement. If he does, it’s over.”

  She chugs her shot, mouth puckering and eyes watering. After gathering herself, she sets the glass on the counter. “That has nothing to do with keeping your emotions in check, but it’s a damn fine rule. Keep going.”

  I fill her glass again. She tosses back the shot, and this time the tequila goes down with just a grimace to show for the burn.

  “Second, I call him, not the other way around.”

  She nods. “You decide when to play hide the snake.”

  I throw back another shot. When it’s done setting fire to my throat, I sputter, “Exactly. He can’t expect sex whenever he wants it.”

  “That’s not going to work.”

  I scowl at her. How can she rain on my parade when she suggested a fuck buddy in the first place? “Why not?”

  “Think about it. What exactly are you bringing to the table for Tyler? He already has girls lining up for a fuck. He doesn’t need you to get laid.”

  She’s right. Girls queue up to ride the Tyler train, and as far as I know, it’s a one-way ticket. Girls get on, they get off, and they move along, never to ride again. What makes me think I’m special enough to travel more than once, and why haven’t I thought of this before now?

  I stick my finger in my empty shot glass and draw circles in the tiny bit of tequila coating the bottom. The glass spins in tight circles as I try to solve this gargantuan issue. No matter how I roll it over in my brain, I can’t figure out what I can give him that he doesn’t already have. I pick up the shot glass, hold it a few inches over the counter, then let it fall with a loud clang. “I’m screwed.” Actually, I’m not getting screwed. That’s the problem.

  “If you want him to bite,” Liz says, “what’s something you can give him that the other girls can’t?”

  “Nothing,” I grumble.

  “That’s not true. You can give him sex without having to prowl for a girl at a party or the bars.”

  I cringe. “No way. I’m not allowing him an open pass to my body.” I’ll feel like a dirty whore if I cater to his every sexual need. Our arrangement might be about pleasure, but I’m not willing to become his sex slave in the process.

  Liz runs a perfectly manicured finger around the rim of her shot glass. “Offer him a few monthly booty calls, and I’m sure he’ll be happy as hell.”

  “You think?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The man’s interested in seeing you naked, and this is his only chance. He’ll take it.”

  One side of my mouth curves up in a smile. “I hope you’re right.”

  I’ve seen him staring at me a second longer than appropriate a time or two. Liz has too, so it wasn’t my imagination, and that shoots a thrill up my spine and gives me the extra boost of confidence I sorely need. Boys think with their little heads, so if Tyler wants me, his little head might just let him have me even if his big head thinks it’s a bad idea.

  Liz taps me with her hip. “I wouldn’t send you after him if I thought he’d say no. But I do have another rule for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “No staying the night together.”

  I never saw that one coming, and I can’t make much sense of it either. “What if we’re too tired to move after sex?” I have a feeling int
ercourse with Tyler will be a full contact sport that’ll leave me blissfully zapped afterward.

  She rolls her eyes, and I can practically hear her calling me naive. “First of all, you live next door. How hard is it to walk thirty feet home? Second, staying overnight is what couples do. People who love each other. This is not about love. It’s about sexual gratification.”

  I puff my bottom lip into a little pout. “Fine.” She’s right, but I was looking forward to having a man in my bed again. So much for a warm body to keep me toasty in the winter. I’ll just have to rely on my favorite stuffed monkey George.

  “I have one last rule,” I say, “and I think you’ll like this one. Absolutely no sharing of personal information. We can chat about school, the weather, Vandeveer football, but not family, dreams for the future, or problems I’m having with friends. Conversations stay superficial, nothing deep.” I’m not looking for a friend to share my ambitions with. All I want is someone who can satisfy my needs, and if that means analyzing the forecast after sex, so be it. “I doubt Tyler’s capable of deep anyway.”

  Liz raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. “There’s more to that boy than he lets on. Just don’t try to dig it out of him. That’s what a girlfriend does.”

  “I don’t want to tame him, Liz. I need him to stay bad.” I draw in a deep, long breath. “One more shot, and I’m heading over.”

  At Tyler’s party, people are pressed into every nook and cranny of the living room, drinking beer and flirting. I’m standing next to the fireplace, crammed between the mantel and a girl with pink hair, waiting for Liz to give me a thumbs up. She’s casing the joint, making sure Tyler’s not with another woman. Odds are good he might be.

  Last week, after we came home from the lake and ate hamburgers on the back patio, he’d rushed Miranda into his bedroom. It had been barely ten o’clock, and he was done with her by ten thirty. When she left his room, her hair was a disheveled mess, and she had the most satisfied glow I’ve ever seen on a woman. I’m desperate to know how he put it there. Maybe tonight, I’ll find out.

  Liz breezes through the kitchen doorway and strolls toward me. She grabs my arm and whispers, “Back patio. He’s clean.”

  I take “he’s clean” to mean he hasn’t been with a girl tonight, so it’s time to do my thing. But my feet won’t cooperate. Despite the tequila warming my veins, I’m pinned in place, terror twisting my gut into tiny knots. At home, the plan had seemed so simple, even exciting, but I’m about to dive headfirst into the unknown, and I’m questioning my sanity.

  “What if he says no?” I whisper.

  “Then he says no. We’ll hit up Peter Long Dong next.”

  I still can’t move. “I’ll be mortified.”

  “You’ll survive. Now quit being a pussy and go find him.”

  I remind myself that I’m doing this for a reason—to satisfy my sex drive without the entanglement of a relationship—and Tyler is the perfect man for the job. I need to buck up and get down to the business of getting a hug buddy.

  The object of our discussion walks through the back door. His cranberry long-sleeve button-up is open to reveal a plain white T-shirt underneath, and his jeans are just snug enough to show off his slim hips. I’m not surprised when two brunettes attack him the moment his feet hit the linoleum. One girl runs her fingers through his thick dark hair; the other twists her hands into his shirt, smiling coyly. He smirks, leans down, and whispers something that makes her giggle.

  Liz elbows me. “You’d better hurry before he gets offered a threesome. He’ll definitely pick two girls over one of you, even if you’re hotter.”

  I glare at her.

  She shrugs. “What? Men are pigs.” She hooks a thumb toward the back door. “I’ll be on the patio if you need me.”

  She strolls through the kitchen, shaking her head at Tyler as she walks by. He’s too busy flirting to notice. I watch him slip his arms around both girls’ waists. Talk about bad timing. There’s no point in stacking the odds against myself by approaching him now. I’m about to hightail it to the corner of the living room to regroup when, to my surprise, the girls grab beers from the fridge and saunter away with way too much hip action. One of them winks at Tyler as she goes.

  “You can do this,” I mutter. What’s the worst that can happen? He can say no, and then I’ll move on. I’ll be a little humiliated, but I’ve gotten over worse. With tequila fueling my confidence, I hurry toward him.

  As soon as I enter the bright kitchen, Tyler gazes up and smiles. “Hey, cupcake.”

  That’s the third time he’s called me that. I’m starting to wonder why, but that’s a question for another day. I’m a woman on a mission. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure,” he says. “What’s up?”

  “In private?”

  His warm blue eyes cool a degree, turning almost wary. “What about?”

  “I can’t tell you here.” I’m sensing hesitation, so I peer up at him through my lashes. “Can we go to your bedroom? Please.” I learned long ago that my soft, feminine voice will get me anything I want as long as it’s directed at a heterosexual male. My words come out breathier than normal since my heart’s thundering. I hope that works to my advantage.

  Tyler’s eyes warm again, and he blows out a long breath. “Sure.”

  He presses his hand to my back and leads me through the people in the living room. Talking in his room is probably a stupid idea, because I don’t plan on having sex with him during a party. Everyone will know what we’re up to. But a few minutes shouldn’t give anyone the wrong idea. The coeds Tyler had snuggled with give me the stink eye he swore was never cast in my direction. I try to let their glares roll off me. Like water off a duck’s back. But I hate the competition all the same.

  When I step inside his bedroom, the first thing I see is a bed way bigger than a normal college guy’s should be. It has to be a king, and it sends my mind to places I don’t want to go, like Tyler spreading a girl out on the sheets and doing things to her that make me blush. I add a new rule to my list. All liaisons will occur at my house because no way am I ever touching that bed.

  Tyler shuts the door and saunters toward the offending furniture. He sits, leaning back on his palms and resting an ankle on one knee. I should speak, but my attention has moved from the bed to the walls, and I can’t stop staring. They’re full of dozens of pencil sketches of things like Omega pond in front of the library, a stork perched on a tree branch, looking gangly and awkward, a mother kneeling down to hold her toddler’s attention with her eyes.

  I’d forgotten how talented he is. I study the picture hanging on the wall by the closet. A girl, no more than sixteen, stares at me, her expression haunted. She has circles under her eyes, and I know she’s gravely sick just by the resigned set of her mouth, as though she’s giving up the fight to live. I want to know who she is, but I remember rule number four, no personal conversations, and keep my mouth shut.

  Tyler clears his throat. He’s being exceptionally patient considering two girls in the living room are gunning for his attention.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Your sketches are so good, they’re distracting.”

  No emotion crosses his face, but his expression softens slightly. Maybe he’s not as cocky as he lets everyone believe. Maybe he needs occasional praise too. But I’m not here to analyze the inner workings of Tyler Mason. I’m here to get a fuck buddy.

  I lean against his dresser, suddenly weak. Now that Tyler’s Caribbean eyes bore into me, the tequila in my blood has ceased to take the edge off my nerves. I swallow hard and draw in a shaky breath. “I have a proposition for you.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “It’s something beneficial to me and enjoyable for you.”

  He drops his leg and sits straighter, the perfect example of a focused male body. I take another deep breath, willing myself to continue. I can do this. I just have to take it slow and explain the situation. My heart thuds, and my throat’s clogged. Maybe fast and to the point is the way to go.
<
br />   “I want you to be my hug buddy,” I blurt.

  “Your what?”

  I can tell by the tense set of his mouth and the crinkles around his humor-filled eyes that he’s trying not to laugh. If I were him, I’d be doing the same, because what the hell is a hug buddy? A stupid name Hannah came up with.

  “Fuck buddy. I meant fuck buddy.” I inhale sharply, horrified I’ve let those words loose without explaining. I’m going about this all wrong, and I’m sure of that when I see the shock in Tyler’s eyes. Of all the things I might ask of him, I bet he never expected that. “Let me clarify.”

  Tyler stares at me, mouth slightly ajar. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him dumbfounded, and the emotion is unsettling on Mister Cool and Confident. I open my mouth to continue, but he holds up his hand.

  “No need to explain.” His face tightens; the lines around his mouth and on his forehead deepen.

  I can practically see the gears in his brain churning. He’s considering my offer. I know the second he makes his decision because his eyes darken, and his gaze goes from my face to my body. It touches every part of me with an intimacy that feels like a caress. I can’t move. I’m paralyzed by the passion in his stare. Dear God, no wonder girls flock to his bed. That stare alone would entice me onto his big king-size mattress, and I wouldn’t spare a second thought to how many girls he’s taken on the same sheets.

  I clear my throat to speak again and to explain that I have rules to go along with my offer, but he rises like a jungle cat, all sinewy grace, and I’m speechless again. I watch him knowing I can have him, maybe even tonight. He strides toward me, eyes darkening even more. The sight of him sends a shuddering thrill down my spine. Is it really this easy?

  He stands so close to me the toes of our shoes touch. I stare up into his big blue eyes, wondering if he’s going to kiss me. My breathing’s uneven, and I’m sure my cheeks are flushed.

 

‹ Prev