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Me.
I cover my face with my hands. Deep breaths, Liv. My fingers are twitching with the need to explore more. I need to pull open all the drawers and know more, see more, feel more about this man.
I spy the nightstand. I’ve looked in the drawers before. It’s not snooping if you know what’s there, I tell myself again. It’s just…remembering. Right?
I slowly pull open the middle drawer. Three kinds of lube. Condoms. The bullet… My body flushes. Holy hell, that bullet. That delightful little bullet.
I shut the drawer and open the bottom one. Last time, he surprised me with handcuffs, and is that a fucking vibrator?
My eyebrows shoot up. A laugh bubbles inside me and I clap my hand over my mouth. Fucking hell. I reach in and grab it. I run my finger down the bright-purple, rubbery…shaft. Can you call it a shaft if it’s fake and battery operated?
I flick the little finger designed for the clit. And purse my lips, fighting a smile. I lose my fight, and I’m soon giggling.
Oh, bottom nightstand drawer, I dub thee the Drawer of Sexual Surprises.
I’m almost afraid to look in here ever again. Ever. Again.
A glint of silver catches my eye and I pick up the… Oh, well, apparently, he took my joke about chains seriously. I hold up the short chain, just thick enough to restrain my wrists, and stare at it.
My eyes flick to the vibrator and I look at that, too.
My gaze jolts between them. Chains. Vibrator.
I look to his bed.
And close my eyes so I can’t see anymore. But that fucks up, too, because now all I can see are images of him chaining my wrists together and sliding the vibrator inside me.
I clench my legs together as the front door opens. And my eyes shoot open. Keys clatter against the side, and Tyler walks into his room before I can shove the things back into his drawer.
We stare at each other for a long moment. His lips twitch, his eyes darkening with a sexy kind of amusement.
“Well, that’s a nice sight,” he finally says. “Exploring?”
Nice choice of a word. “Um, discovering, too, apparently.” I hold the chains out to him. “More fantasies, Tyler Stone?”
He grins and takes them from me. “Not fantasies, Liv. Plans.”
Consider me turned. The. Fuck. On.
He sets them on the nightstand and approaches me. Laying his hands on either side of me on the bed, he leans in, smirking. “You keep spoiling my surprises,” he murmurs, dropping his lips to my jaw.
“I’m sorry?” I breathe in. I actually am. That’s the sad thing.
“How sorry?” His mouth travels along my jawline to my ear.
“Probably not as sorry as you want me to be.”
“Good answer.” He nudges me back until I’m lying flat on the bed and leans over me. “I’m mad at you, you know.”
“What did I do now?”
He flicks his tongue against my neck and it moves downwards in tiny, spiraling circles. “While I appreciate the best blow job of my life and never plan to turn you down ever again, I’m pissed you didn’t let me return the favor.”
He slides his hand beneath my shirt and pinches my nipple through my bra. I gasp at the rough sensation.
“You weren’t supposed to return it,” I breathe as he finds the button to my jeans.
“I gathered. Now, though, I’m going to, and I’m going to return it good.” He kisses my stomach hotly and tugs my jeans hard. He stands, pulls off my boots and jeans, and gets back onto his knees.
