Addiction

by Calista Fox

  Fallon was the first to greet her. They did the double cheek-kiss thing and chatted amiably while other conversations started up again. But there were still plenty of gazes locked on Liv.

  Tristan felt the usual stirrings over how entrancing she was—and not just to him and Nate, but to everyone surrounding her.

  Liv possessed a beguiling aura that made her personable and approachable, despite being so spectacular it made his heart hurt sometimes. Like now, when she was so close in proximity to him and yet he wondered if she was still too far out of his league.

  Devon, ever the carefree billionaire, leaned in and whispered, “Well, she came alone, so that’s a good sign.”

  “Seriously having trouble breathing,” Tristan confessed.

  “Yeah, I totally get that. The woman she’s talking to is doing the exact same thing to me and Morgan at the moment. Hell . . . every moment.”

  “Good call on the commitment ring. Nate mentioned it,” Tristan said. “You don’t want to let that one go. Someone will snatch her up in a heartbeat.”

  “Thankfully, she’s hopelessly devoted.” Devon paused, then added, “And the way Liv’s gaze is glued on you, I’m gonna say she just might fall into that category as well.”

  “So you’ll understand me concluding the business portion of our evening?”

  “Hell, yes.” He chuckled, then sauntered off and collected Fallon, bringing her back to her new family fold of McMillans and Presleys—joined by Morgan’s elegantly coiffed and attired mother, Tova Presley—as Tristan headed toward Liv.

  He grabbed two glasses of champagne along the way and handed one over as he reached her. They clinked rims and she smiled sweetly.

  “You know I’m a sucker for champagne,” she teased, her amber irises glimmering under the brilliant chandeliers.

  “You know you’re stopping a lot of hearts right now?”

  Her smile was radiant. “There you go again, you smooth talker. Really, a woman doesn’t need her morning self-affirmations when you’re around.”

  “You’re incredibly beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She sipped, then said, “And you in a tux is my absolute favorite—the perfect Hubbell.”

  “How many times did you make us watch that movie?”

  “It’s a classic,” she scoffed. “And I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a Katie. A somewhat boisterous sort in contrast to your impeccable structure—and Nate’s.”

  “That’s not an analogy I prefer.” Tristan took a long drink from his crystal flute, then pinned Liv with a serious look. “In the end, Hubbell didn’t get the girl. Well, he did. But she wasn’t Katie.”

  “He was too elegant—too classy, even—for Katie. He wanted someone tame and predictable. Manageable.”

  “Now, where’s the fun in that?” Tristan quietly challenged.

  Liv laughed softly. “Where, indeed?”

  Tristan leaned in and said, “Bright yellow string bikinis are a hell of a lot sexier than starched white tennis skirts.”

  “I don’t play tennis.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Hmm,” she playfully murmured. “Sounds as though you’re hitting on me.”

  “Impossible not to.”

  She sipped some more, than asked, “Even though you likely know I was with Nate a couple of days ago?”

  “Fallon’s boutique. He told me.”

  “You’re right about her, Dev, and Morgan. It is a complex situation.” Liv’s expression turned earnest yet contemplative as she added, “I was thinking about you when I was with Nate. About both of you.”

  “Then there’s still a conversation to have.”

  “Yes.”

  “In private.”

  “Yes.”

  Tristan’s groin tightened. Oh, the things he wanted to do with her—to her—in private.

  For the moment, though, guests continued to mill about. And more champagne headed their way. He deposited their empties on a passing silver tray and lifted two fresh ones from another.

  He told her, “I believe Nate is out on deck networking. I’ll save the grand tour for when he’s free.”

  “Go about your business. I can entertain myself with this crowd.”

  “Entertain me, instead.” He held his arm out for her, and she linked hers with his. He pulled her close. “You are an absolute knockout.”

  “So charming. I’m making a lot of women jealous this evening, being the recipient of your unwavering attention.”

  “Hardly.”

  Gazing up at him, Liv said, “You clearly don’t see what I see.”

  “I’ve got tunnel vision going on. Nothing but you seems to register.”

  “I like this flirtatious side of you, Tristan,” she mused, and took another drink. “Very sexy and seductive.”

  “Do you want me to seduce you, Liv?”

  Her smile was a bewitching one, laced with invitation. “It would save me from having to be the instigator again. Though I truly couldn’t help myself with the two of you when we were in Paris. And I have already confessed to Nate that it wasn’t the mimosas that spurred me on.”

  Tristan fought a strangled groan over mental images of Liv’s fingers toying with the buttons on his dress shirt as she’d brazenly told him and Nate she wanted them. Naked. Hard. Inside her . . .

  Tristan had been stunned, no denying it. More than he should have been, perhaps, because she’d started flirting with them toward the end of senior year when the workouts had begun paying off. And then, when they’d arrived in Paris for brunch, it’d seemed she couldn’t keep her eyes off them—even before the cocktails had kicked in.

  He’d never expected Liv to be into them like that. He’d anticipated her being bold and daring, sure. But lusting after him and Nate? That had been a shocker. Not to mention a huge turn-on.

  Of course, he was now chomping at the bit to take this discussion to the next level, but there were more meet-and-greets awaiting. Liv happily made the rounds with him, gracious yet lively, with that innate feisty kick to her.

  Any man would feel like the king of the world if he had this woman on his arm. Tristan felt more than that. He was proud to have her at his side, intoxicated by her scent and humbled by her beauty.

  His and Nate’s accomplishments did not go unnoticed or unmentioned by the people they rubbed elbows with, but for all the recognition of the hard work they’d put into their company, the endless hours, the sacrifices made—including that of a personal life—it was more thrilling to be in Liv’s presence. With the sides of her silky hair swept up, her perfectly accented face, and her sensuous crimson lipstick, she kept the testosterone pumping heartily through his veins.

  She also appeared impressed by all the tech talk and the building of necessary connections for him and Nate . . . until something occurred to her. A light switch flipping on.

  As they left one group and worked their way toward another, she asked, “Why is it so important for you to set up lunch and cocktail dates or tee times with all these people? And why in God’s name is Nate speaking with the governor?”

  Tristan’s gaze followed hers out to the deck. “Excellent timing. We should join them. That’s one professional relationship we need to solidly cultivate.”

  “What does the governor of California have to do with your UK-based business?”

  “It’s an international company—we do plenty of business in the States, and are looking to expand into the Defense Department arena. So capitalizing on a US presence with strategic-policy headquarters in San Francisco is imperative. And Nate and I are manning the new operations.”

  “Whoa—wait . . . what?” She suddenly drew up short, jerking Tristan back a step.

  He glanced down at her. “Something wrong?”

  Her jaw fell slack for a few seconds, her eyes widening.

  “Liv?” Had she spilled on her dress? Swallowed champagne down the wrong pipe? “You okay, honey?”

  “I—you—I—” She gave a sharp shake of her
head and exclaimed, “You’re moving back to California!”

  Chapter Seven

  Liv was outrageously excited, her heart pounding wildly, the adrenaline pumping.

  How amazingly perfect!

  Then she remembered that she was moving to New York.

  “Holy shit,” she mumbled, disheartened, as she came crashing down from her high.

  “What?” Tristan inquired again, looking deeply concerned. “You’re starting to worry me, Liv.”

  “I don’t know . . .” She waved a dismissive hand as her mind reeled. “Nothing to talk about right this very second.” Christ, she could barely breathe. “Just . . . go do your thing. Let’s mingle.”

  She surged forward, because she’d always gleaned immense satisfaction from supporting Tristan and Nate, no matter what their endeavors. Even if everything she’d been plotting was suddenly starting to unravel.

  Her two favorite men, whom she’d just realized almost a week ago she missed more than anything she could possibly fathom, were about to be within her reach. Except . . . no. They weren’t. Because Liv was moving across the country—closer to London. Where Tristan and Nate would not be!

  Son of a bitch!

  She’d accepted the fact that at least the next three years of her life needed to be focused on her musical career. On the East Coast. A hop, skip, and a jump from the UK.

  She pulled in lengthy breaths that filled her lungs. Exhaled slowly. All the while, she told herself that flying back to Bayfront would actually be a quicker jaunt than flying to London. No need to get all crazy over the stars scattering when she’d known that was exactly what would happen if she even dared to dream of another intimate rendezvous with them.

  Cosmic forces worked in the most fantastic or the most insidious damn ways.

  In today’s world, Liv could actually be living in the same town as Nate and Tristan. Hell, even if they chose to buy flats in the city or rent suites at the Fairmont instead of residing in Bayfront, they’d still be right around the corner. They could have dinners together, hang out at the yacht club, join their friends for cocktails on the patio here in town, or meet up regularly in San Francisco.

  In an instant, Liv had considered how wonderful that would be.

  And an instant later . . . the excitement had been ripped from her grasp—as had they. Because she wouldn’t be living in “today’s world” much longer.

  Shit.

  Ironically, Liv had to shove that all aside so she could focus on the here and now. She and Tristan joined Nate with the governor and Liv mustered as much enthusiasm over this twist of fate as she could. This was clearly a new lesson for her to learn. When it came to these two men, she got snapshots in time. Not scenarios to withstand any sort of longevity.

  They had friendly conversations with numerous prominent figures, and Liv concentrated on the topics at hand, related to telecommunications and more advanced wifi and other technical solutions that were rolling out from Nate and Tristan’s company—as well as Dagney Presley’s, a man Liv had always admired. He and his wife Tova had been surrogate parents to Liv in so many ways. With her own mother always performing on renowned stages the world over, Liv had basically been raised by nannies and house staff. But because she was good friends with Fallon, Tova had taken it upon herself to ensure Liv felt she was part of a family.

  Perhaps it was that woman who had inspired Liv to build her own family—her vast circle of friends—looking beyond the stereotypes her mother perpetuated and the elitist mentality she embraced.

  The billionaires’ cove of Bayfront did not come without its fair share of fiscal and social challenges, its smackdowns and scandals. The community wasn’t a streamlined utopia, given the inherent affluence. Yet it was by and large populated with people who enjoyed the finer things in life as much as they did the simple aspects. Expensive champagne was fine and dandy, but did it really compare to a vibrant California sunset that spilled fiery vermillion and gold across the sparkling turquoise water, and backlit the hills with a mesmerizing glow? Most residents wouldn’t deign to check what label was stamped on the cork just popped—taking for granted it was a private reserve variety that ranked at the top of the most prestigious lists—but they could detail every nuance of the gorgeous scenery sprawled before them.

  Even now, as the stars overhead winked seductively and the lapping of waves against the hull and the peninsula created a sexy lulling sound, the majority of Nate’s and Tristan’s guests had flowed out to the Ariana’s decks, rather than staying inside. It was just too beautiful a night, as always, to miss out on.

  Liv got a rush off of the atmosphere, the animated discussions, the two men flanking her. And though she toyed with the idea of what might come later, she was grounded in the present, feeling a sense of pride over being the successful entrepreneurs’ date, but also reveling in her admiration for them.

  It was well after one in the morning when the party broke up. Liv was still buzzing from the way Nate and Tristan had commanded such respect, and spoken so authoritatively about their business, that she was insanely aroused before they’d even reached the point where they were finally alone.

  She’d long since stopped drinking and was completely in control of all faculties when she told them, “Now would be a good time to give me the grand tour.” They didn’t miss the suggestion in her voice as to where that tour should end . . .

  Nate took her hand, guiding her along the lower deck, where he and Tristan had seen off their guests by ferry back to the marina. He explained that this portion of the yacht housed the forty or so crew members who staffed the ship. On the remaining four decks, there were formal and informal living and dining rooms, a full-service spa and salon, a gym, a helipad, offices, a library, a state-of-the-art theater, ten staterooms, one wading pool, three outdoor Jacuzzi tubs . . .

  All completely mind-boggling. As was Nate’s master suite. He swiped his fingerprint over a small scanner on the wall and the door slid open. They stepped inside the private room on the fourth deck, tall windows surrounding them. Liv knew they were tinted black on the outside, and probably bulletproof. Bayfront was all aglow and sprawled before them. A different perspective from her coveted oceanside condo, but the view was just as sensational.

  As they entered the room, Tristan took the lead. Replacing Nate’s hand in hers, he stared intently at Liv as he walked backward, pulling her slowly through the vast stateroom. There were no other lights on, just a dimly lit chandelier and the flickering flames at the base of the waterfall outside the bathroom or dressing room or whatever suite lay behind the decorative sliding doors. The water between the glass panes captured the blood-red orange and vibrant purple from the fire. Shadows danced across the opposite wall of windows. The harbor twinkled with gas lamps and dazzling stars.

  Nate reached for the remote on the nightstand and a moment later, jazz music at a low decibel level flowed from hidden speakers. He pressed another button and the slightly rounded floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led to the deck slid smoothly open. A warm summer breeze wafted inside.

  Tristan gathered her close. “What do you say?” he asked in his sensuous voice. “Interested in a few orgasms?”

  Liv chose not to obsess over all the loose ends of her life. Not when she was once again in this advantageous position with Tristan and Nate . . . and it felt so right.

  She softly quipped, “Just a few?”

  Detangling her fingers from Tristan’s, she slipped out of her sandals and set them on the bench that ran the width of the bed at the foot of it, while both men removed their jackets. Then Liv worked Tristan’s bowtie, unbuttoned his shirt, tugged the hem from his pants, and slid the material down his biceps. She draped the shirt on the bench with the mounting pile of clothes before repeating the process with Nate.

  They were magnificent. Her heart beat faster and her knees weakened.

  She said, “I always try not to be too decadent for my own good, but you are both an overindulgence I can’t resist.”
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  Her hands smoothed over Tristan’s chest and she dropped kisses along his pecs.

  “Damn, you make me hot,” he murmured.

  He ran his fingers through her long, sleek hair down to her shoulders. Nate moved behind her and worked the zipper on her dress, quickly helping her out of the garment.

  Then he knelt and twined his fingers in the thin strands of her thong and dragged it to her ankles. While he was doing this, Tristan unhooked her strapless bra and took her in from head to toe—in one long, measured gaze that caused Liv’s stomach to flutter. He let out another low groan and her nipples tightened.

  “How can you possibly be more extraordinary than the last time I saw you naked?” Tristan asked.

  She smiled at him, too breathless to speak.

  Nate’s fingertips skimmed over her skin as he stood, until she was tingling and quivering. He placed his hands above her hips, kissed her shoulder, then lightly nipped his way up her neck.

  He stopped just below her ear and whispered, “Do you remember what Tristan likes to do to you?”

  A hungry whimper escaped her as Tristan’s blue eyes burned with lust and longing and Nate’s hands snaked around her front to palm her breasts and massage firmly.

  Her thighs pressed together. She was already wet. And they’d barely started with her.

  She licked her suddenly dry lips and, maintaining the eye contact with Tristan, said, “Yes. I remember everything. As I have clearly demonstrated, I lack inhibitions in the bedroom.”

  Tristan’s mouth swept over hers and he murmured, “One of the many, many things we adore about you.”

  Nate released her and stepped back.

  Taking Liv’s hand again, Tristan guided her onto the deck, to the elevated hot tub in the corner, with a partial privacy wall along the side not facing Bayfront, she noted. Nate followed.

  “Sit.” Tristan gestured to the thick sienna cushions lining the bench semi-encircling the tub.

  She did as instructed. This far out into the harbor, Liv didn’t think anyone could see the three of them unless they had a telescope trained on this particular spot—and it’d have to be of the magnitude of the observatory’s, which had closed a couple of years ago. Yet she still felt like a voyeur’s prime target.