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I stay where I am, my keys in my palm, and stare at him. I’ve never felt tension like this. Wanting like this. He yanks open my front door and turns to look at me.
He yanks open my front door and turns to look at me. “Liv. We need to go,” he repeats, his voice just as husky. “Unless you want me to drag you back into your bedroom and remove those clothes, we need to fucking leave.”
Those words flip a switch in my brain and I all but run past him and down the stairs. I hear his footsteps echo in the stairwell behind me as I reach the small lobby and burst outside. It’s raining again, and no sooner have fat raindrops hit the top of my head than I’m pulled back inside by a strong arm around my stomach.
His body is hot against mine, his chest flush against my back, my ass curving against his erection. One of his hands is flat against my stomach, the other cupping my hip. He’s holding me steady in place, but my chest is rising and falling with my labored breaths.
I want him to hold me here, but at the same time, I wish he’d let go.
Tyler runs his nose across the back of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “Careful,” he whispers. “You’ll get wet.”
“I’m not sure there’ll be a different outcome if I stay inside,” I breathe out, clasping my hands to my chest. Like having them there will slow my breathing and ease the steady yet strong pound of my heart.
He turns his face to the side of mine. “You smell incredible.” His voice is a whisper again, so quiet I can barely hear it. “You’re driving me crazy, Liv. I can’t decide if I need to fuck you or stay away from you.”
He releases me and wraps his jacket around my shoulders. I’m reeling from his words as I follow him silently to his car. Mostly from how alike his feelings are to mine, but also from how real they sound.
The way his voice cracked when he said “stay away.” The shake in his voice when he told me that I’m driving him crazy. They’re things that can’t be faked or forced.
“Funny-looking fucking restaurant,” I mutter, staring at the florist’s sign. The windows are packed with different flower arrangements, from pastel colors to bright colors, from small bouquets to large, fancy baskets. “What kind of florist opens on a Sunday?”
“The kind of florist who wants my cousin’s wedding under their belt,” Tyler replies. “I was told to come here so you can help her decide flowers. Then we’ll have lunch.”
“I can help her decide? I’m sorry, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me or Aaron marrying Dayton!”
“Have you ever seen a guy pick flowers?”
“No, but if I keep having to plan his wedding, he’ll be picking flowers out of his asshole.” I shrug off his jacket and storm from the car, spotting Aaron and Dayton inside.
Tyler grabs my hand and tugs me back. “Calm down, feisty. Aaron would likely fuck this crap up. Shit, I don’t know the difference between a daisy and a fucking rose.”
I snatch my hand back and glare at him. “Feisty? You think this is feisty? Do you want a bunch of flowers up your behind, too?”
“No, but if we’re putting things in places they probably shouldn’t be…”
I smack his arm. Hard. “And we’re back to normal.”
He laughs loudly, and I push open the door to the florist. Aaron and Dayton turn, and a grin spreads across my best friend’s face.
“Oh, you found each other!” she says happily. “I was getting bored of waiting.”
I glare at Aaron. “If you can count ‘finding’ as him turning up at my apartment, then yes, we found each other.”
Aaron grins. “Sorry, Liv. We’re on a schedule and we all know what happens with schedules when you’re left to your own devices.”
Would it be childish to poke my tongue out at him?
“Whatever. Although, if this planning-your-wedding thing happens much more, you should know that I’ll be marrying Dayton this summer, not you.” I put my purse on the chair next to hers. “Don’t you know I have a bachelorette party to plan? And a bridal shower? And I still have to find a dress?”
Dayton looks at Tyler. “What did you do to her?”
“Nowhere near as much as I wanted to,” he retorts. I spin to him, fire spitting from my eyes, but he laughs. “The Hello Kitty towel was a real turn-on.”
“Oh, it’ll turn you on when it’s around your damn neck,” I snap. “Now sit down, shut up, and let us get on with this.”
I look at endless flowers with Dayton, and after an hour, the different kinds all seem to blend into one. The different shades of pink and off-white and cream and whatever-the-hell-I’m-looking-at mush into something that looks nothing like any color I’ve ever seen.
And I’m so done here.
