Tainted Love Series Boxed Set

by Lily Zante

  Raquel.

  He gave her a call.

  They ended up in Rocco’s, drinking far too much, as usual—having vodka shots until late in the night before coming back to the apartment. For once he wished he hadn’t let slip that he lived nearby because she’d immediately invited herself over for a coffee.

  He sat in the living room a little merry from having drunk too much but still sober enough to notice that it was after midnight and that Zoe still wasn’t back.

  Would she even come home?

  What if she stayed over? With Hugh—or someone else? Would she?

  The tall and sultry Raquel snuggled up against him on the couch.

  She purred against his chest, lying so lazily up against him that in another scene from his life, they’d have bypassed the living room altogether. This was new to him. Usually when he brought a girl home they’d hit the bedroom straightaway. It wasn’t until many hours later that he would emerge and call a cab for the girl.

  He wasn’t really one for waking up with someone the next morning.

  But now, not only had he no intention of going to his bedroom, he didn’t care so much about making out either. He glanced down at Raquel and she appeared to be very cozy lying here. It didn’t look as though she was making tracks to leave anytime soon.

  He picked up his cell—he still hadn’t found his watch, which was another small thing that annoyed him. One fifteen in the morning. Should he call Zoe? He’d fought with this thought ever since he’d gotten back home. She’d told him to butt out of her life and not to worry about her. But he worried all the same.

  He tucked in his chin and looked down at the girl who was almost dozing off. She was a beautiful creature and she spilled out of her tight jeans, tank top and leather jacket on top.

  As if sensing that she had his attention, she looked up at him, smiled and then ran her warm hand over his chest, leaned her lips up towards him. He’d been getting the eye from her the minute she’d met him at Rocco’s.

  He’d called her, after all. What had he expected? She thought he was interested. When her hands dipped lower, he felt the first stirrings of response. If he didn’t walk away now, he’d be in trouble.

  “Hey, hey, Raquel—” He tried to move her hand away, but she’d slipped it inside his shirt and slid it around, the feel of her hand on his flesh enticing him slowly.

  “Come on, baby. You know you want it,” she whispered. He felt her hot breath rush over his warm skin, knew that in the time it took him to move her away, he could so easily run his hands and feel her all over. It would be so easy. He’d done it so many times before, without even thinking about it. Give in and spend the whole night feasting on each other.

  But even as the thought came to him—the pull wasn’t as strong as usual. His body reacted, but his mind was someplace else. He hadn’t been thinking this far ahead when he’d called her.

  He hadn’t wanted the evening to end this way. He’d only intended to meet her for a drink. Maybe he should have called and met up with Ethan, but the guy was too loved up; or even made more of an effort to stay in touch with Troy or Jed.

  As it was, his choices this evening had ended up with him on the couch with a hot girl. As hot as she was, his thoughts were wrapped up in Zoe and he wondered what she was up to.

  If he didn’t get out of this situation fast, he’d be in a position where he might end up doing something with the hot chick that he would later regret.

  She kept her hand snug against his chest, and then craned her neck, tempting him with her upturned, luscious lips. Lips that were hard to avoid. So moist and alluring. Coupled with a body that melted into his.

  “Raquel,” he moaned, moving her hand away and gently prying the sexy siren off his chest. With a concerted effort, he pushed off the couch and stood up with his hands thrown in front of him, trying to explain his moves. Clearly, his reaction wasn’t welcome.

  “I’m—this—this isn’t what I had in mind. Sorry.”

  The sound of a door slammed shut, and a soft moan stopped him. He ran out and saw Zoe slumped against the door, her face ashen and clutching her stomach.

  In a flash he was by her side, alarm written all across his face when he saw how wan she looked. “What the—? What happened?” He cupped her face in his hands and looked at her with concern.

  She glanced up, still clutching her stomach. He placed his hand on hers. “Zoe? Tell me?” Behind him, the angry smack of Raquel’s heels against the floor made Zoe lift her head up; she looked over his bicep but slumped back again, as if it was too much of an effort to stand up straight.

  The Brazilian leaned against the living room door and her mouth twisted when she saw him all over Zoe.

  “Fuck you,” she mumbled as she trotted past Tyler, her head stuck up in the air. She glanced at Zoe. “He’s all yours, honey. Hope you have better luck than I did.” The door slammed shut.

  Tyler’s gaze fell on Zoe once more; she looked up at him with doleful eyes. “Sorry—I didn’t know you had company.”

  Tyler turned to Zoe. “What happened?” Worry snagged in his voice. She looked intact, but her face was pale. She straightened up and shuffled slowly to the toilet. He waited around outside, then heard her throw up. Twice.

  Too much drink. Or something dodgy to eat. Or a combination of both.

  “Everything okay in there?” He knocked when it had gone silent. He thought about going in, then thought better of it.

  “Be out in a—” She hurled again. The third time.

  He shook his head and waited outside. More minutes passed, and then he heard the toilet flush and water running in the sink.

  He waited.

  “Be out in a minute.” Her voice sounded weak.

  When the door opened, the stench from inside curled his nostrils. He grimaced.

  “Sorry.” She shuffled into the kitchen and just about sat down at the table, holding her head in her hands.

  “Drink this.” He got her a glass of water, then sat beside her. Apart from the smudges of mascara around her eyes, and the embarrassed look on her face, she seemed okay.

  She drank slowly, while he waited for an explanation.

  “We started doing shots. I don’t think I’m used to them. Stupid of me.”

  “You came home alone?” he asked, the possibilities of so many things going wrong, running haywire through his head.

  “I got a cab. Wanted to hurl so many times, it was a miracle I didn’t.”

  “I was worried,” he said, before realizing that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

  “Sorry to mess up your date.” She looked up at him with mascara scrubbed across her upper right eyelid.

  Without thinking about it, he rubbed his hand up and down her arm, slowly, as if to reassure her everything would be all right. “You didn’t.”

  “She looked pretty pissed off to me.”

  “Nothing happened.” He wanted Zoe to know that. She cocked her head, looked deep into his eyes, as if his answer had touched a nerve.

  He pulled his hand away.

  “That felt nice,” she whispered.

  Now he was confused. Normally he’d know what to do, when it came to other girls, but this was Zoe—and she wasn’t feeling too well—and he wasn’t sure of his footing.

  His breath hitched in his throat. “Don’t you want to get changed?” Then realized it had come out wrong. “I mean, maybe you’d be more comfortable in your PJs. Maybe you should get some rest.”

  “I feel wide awake,” she said. “It’s like I puked up the alcohol and my energy levels have shifted.”

  What did that mean? He looked at her for clarification.

  “Do you want to watch a film or something?”

  “Sure,” he replied, even though it was almost two in the morning.

  “Back in ten,” she said, scooting off to get changed. “See what’s on.”

  By the time he’d put on his sweatpants and a clean T-shirt, he was as wide awake as ever. And by the time he t
urned the TV on, Zoe showed up in her PJs. She’d washed her face too, no signs of mascara.

  They sat down on different couches, a little awkwardly at first. He switched channels faster than if they were watching a rom-com. “Here, you take it,” he said, getting up to hand her the remote control.

  “This looks good,” she said. “Leave it on this.” It looked like a thriller. He sat back down and they left it at that. Soon, they were both engrossed in an old Hitchcock film.

  When he looked at her fifteen minutes later, she’d fallen fast asleep.

  Chapter 38

  Zoe woke up the next morning feeling ravenous. Then she smiled, secure in the knowledge that it was still the weekend.

  Whatever it was she’d eaten at that restaurant, or whether it was the tequila shots they’d done…she’d never felt so ill before. Luckily she’d left the restaurant feeling not too bad and none of the other students had noticed anything awry.

  She’d hate to be labeled as a lightweight—or the girl who couldn’t take her drink. At least she now knew a few more faces.

  Then she remembered she’d fallen asleep watching TV…with Tyler. It’d been late…had she really asked him to watch a film with her last night? She’d wanted to talk, to get that easy camaraderie back, but as soon as she lay down on the couch, the long day caught up with her and her eyes closed shut.

  That was the last she remembered of it.

  How had she ended up in her bed? She had the duvet on top of her. Had he? She pulled the duvet over her head, cringing at the embarrassment of him having to carry her into her bed. She shook her head so hard, wondering if she’d dreamt the whole thing up.

  Only one way to find out.

  She walked towards the kitchen, to the sound of the radio turned down low. She sniffed her nose in appreciation—whatever it was he was rustling up in there, it sure smelled good.

  Running a hand to smooth down her hair, she opened the door and saw Tyler busy at work. He had his back to her and when she walked in, he turned around and smiled.

  He was already dressed, wearing dark jeans and a pale green open necked t-shirt that made his thick hair look darker than ever.

  “Going somewhere?” she asked as she approached him.

  “No,” he replied slowly.

  She walked over to his side to watch him. You look too damn hot to be making breakfast.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked, his face showed concern mixed with tenderness. She instinctively put a hand up to her face, feeling self-conscious. “I’m hungry. And sorry for last night.”

  “You don’t need to keep apologizing for my date.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t a date.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “I’m not apologizing for that.”

  “Then what?”

  “For making you stay up late. While I fell asleep,” she replied, sheepishly. She was unused to the shift in their dynamics and suddenly conscious of her morning breath and her unkempt hair, not to mention that she hadn’t showered or changed either.

  She stepped back, seeing him so clean, groomed, and …making breakfast. She felt like a slob.

  “You’re making pancakes?” She eyed them hungrily. At the Pancake House she’d grown sick of the smell of them by day two. Now, these, because Tyler made them or because they just smelled different, they tempted her taste buds and teased her stomach, which rumbled like an angry elephant.

  She made an appreciative hungry noise. “They look good.”

  The velvety, chocolate rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hit her and she inhaled deeply. “Is that coffee I smell? Freshly brewed?” She smiled excitedly. “Billy never managed to figure out that machine.”

  “I’m glad I went the extra mile.”

  She wondered why he’d said that, just then. She liked the way things were turning out this morning, and she liked that she didn’t have to rush off to class or spend most of the evening at work.

  “Sit down. I’ll bring some over. Along with some of that freshly brewed coffee you like.”

  He was making a big effort—and she loved it. Conscious of her appearance, she mumbled an “I’ll be back” at him and disappeared quickly.

  She showered and changed at breakneck speed. Tyler seemed to want to fuss over her this morning and she was going to make the most of it.

  “I’m not ill; you don’t need to fuss over me.” But she loved it all the same. “Did you—pick me up and carry me to bed?” she asked sheepishly.

  His face changed and his smile widened. “I slung you over my shoulder like a piece of meat.” She blushed furiously, wanting to wipe away the image that sprang up in her mind.

  “Here you go.” He moved two plates over to the table, and she got out the cups. It was all so very civil. So nice, so cozy.

  They sat down at the table on opposite ends, and she looked at him with appreciation for providing her with such a feast first thing in the morning. Goodness knows she needed it.

  She’d meant to talk last night, while they were watching TV. It had seemed the perfect chance to have that conversation after their recent bouts of bickering. And she wanted to know how he’d been, and what he’d been up to.

  But she’d fallen asleep instead.

  She was hoping for another chance to talk today—before the week started, and she was thrust into another hectic schedule all over again.

  They ate their pancakes—or rather she wolfed hers down and finished before him.

  “You’ll have to show me how to make these. They were amazing.” She wiped her face like a woman fully satisfied.

  “Anytime,” he replied, slowly, watching her carefully. “Want me to get you some more?” he asked, looking over by the cooker at the stack of pancakes lying on the plate.

  They looked tempting. Maybe later. “I’m good, thanks.”

  He smiled at her.

  “Are you going out today?” She wasn’t sure, with him dressed like that. Maybe he was going to see the woman he had over last night, to make it up to her. Her heart sank at the idea.

  “Maybe—maybe not. How about you?”

  “I don’t have anything to do today,” she said slowly. “Today’s a lazy day for me.”

  “So maybe we can both have a lazy day at home then.”

  She felt instantly cheered up.

  Chapter 39

  Spending the day at home with her had been one of the most relaxing days he’d had in a while. Simple things made all the difference to his state of mind.

  When she’d first come back last night, and he’d heard her moan, he had been terrified that something had happened to her. That someone had done something to her. That maybe Margaux might have…

  But it had been nothing more than a little too much alcohol, tiredness and something she’d eaten. It didn’t matter. This hadn’t been caused by Margaux, and that made it easier to bear.

  He’d saved Margaux’s text messages anyway, in case he might need them later for evidence. These days he read each and every message as if reading them might give him an insight into the state of her mind.

  “Are you doing homework today?” he asked, looking up from his iPad. He’d been sitting in the living room, and Zoe wandered back, having won the fight to clean up the kitchen after breakfast.

  “No, I did most of what I needed to do yesterday.”

  Outside it was wet and cold and the prospect of going out didn’t appeal either—but if she was going to be working, he thought he might venture out today.

  “So why don’t we just chill today?” she asked.

  And so they did.

  They ended up talking, sitting on different couches, with the TV turned on low for background noise.

  By mid-afternoon she looked as though she wasn’t going to budge from the couch. Later she convinced him to play two games of Scrabble and she beat him twice hands down. She pestered him for a third game, but he didn’t fancy losing to her again—his ego was damaged as it was—so he declined.


  They spent the rest of the evening watching more music videos on TV.

  After a while he turned to find her staring at him. She blushed at having been caught red-handed and said. “That girl you had over—she’s from the speed dating event, isn’t she?”

  He nodded, wishing she wouldn’t bring that up.

  “So if it wasn’t a date, what was it?”

  He combed his fingers through his hair, wishing she wouldn’t take this line of questioning. Especially since he wasn’t sure what he could say, truthfully. And at the same time he wondered why she was asking him this.

  “Is she a friend with benefits?” Zoe asked politely.

  He cleared his throat, hoping the music video on TV would catch her attention and distract her.

  “No,” he replied truthfully. Though at one time she could so easily have been. “I called her—when you went out to your party.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened in understanding. “Ahhhh. That’s who you were expecting.”

  Expecting? He thought back to yesterday.

  “You had food and stuff in the kitchen. It looked like you were expecting someone,” Zoe said, helping him to remember.

  That was for you.

  “So that’s your type?” she asked him, her face serious again.

  He dipped his head. “Is that what you think?”

  “Seems to be.”

  “What type of girl do you think I go for?”

  “That type.”

  “What is that type?”

  The mood had turned all serious again. “Beautiful, big, bountiful.”

  She’d described someone who was the antithesis of her. How was he going to tell her that he wasn’t interested in women like that anymore?

  Chapter 40

  Big, beautiful and bountiful. She waited for him to deny it and when he didn’t, it was as she’d feared. Seeing him with that woman last night had crushed her, as ill as she’d felt when she’d walked in.

  Knowing he had a type and that she was not it, hurt.