My phone rings, breaking through the silence. I grab it and hold my breath when my agent’s name flashes on the screen.

“Sheila,” I answer.

“Liv! Fantastic news. Balfour are interested in you coming in for a test shoot. Are you free Thursday?”

“What time?”

“Between twelve and three.”

I run through my shifts in my head. “Yes, at twelve. I’m supposed to work at one, but Donny won’t mind.” As long as I wear an extra-tight, extra-low-cut shirt that day.

“Fabulous. I’ll call them back to confirm. Also, you should know they’re testing twenty girls.”

“Ouch.”

“That was my first thought—but I have confidence in you, Liv. And I have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“Were you comfortable shooting with Tyler Stone?”

Oh, I was comfortable all right. “Yep.”

“Great. Because he’s the photographer.”

Bridezilla is in full force. Her new catering company has just gone bust, leaving her with no food for the wedding. Again. She’s currently yelling angrily into the phone at the owner, who called to inform her of the bad news.

Bad news. Yep. Try rephrasing that to catastrophic.

“Do you think she’s on her period?” Tyler whispers.

I snort. “No. She doesn’t have them.” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I pull my hoodie down my arm. I tap the inside of my upper arm. “Implant. Stops them.”

“You don’t get periods?”

“What part of ‘stops them’ is hard for you to understand?”

“We’re eloping,” Dayton announces, throwing the phone on the sofa. It bounces onto the floor. “We’ll disappear somewhere and get married in secret, and these useless companies can go fuck themselves.”

“And there’s the control freak,” I mutter.

Tyler covers his hand with his mouth.

“Day, sweetheart.” Aaron runs his hands down her arms and soothes her. “We can find someone else to do the food. We have plenty of time.”

“Right.” She snorts. “Because you’d hate it if we ran off this weekend to get married.”

“I can’t say I’m averse to the idea, but I know that’s not what you want. You want it all, so I’m giving you it all. Yes, it’s hard work, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Tyler asks hesitantly.

Dayton shoots him a hard look. I pat his thigh and cross to the bar. Opening the cupboard, I run my eyes over the bottles until I find a bottle of tequila.

Bingo, baby.

I pour her two shots’ worth into a glass. I nudge Aaron out of the way and hand her the glass. She drains it in one go, turning around to put the glass on the bar.

“Blech.” She screws her face up and shivers. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I smirk and join Tyler back on the sofa.

“What the…” He watches in amazement as Day opens her laptop and starts calmly tapping at the keys. “What did you just do?”

I smile smugly. “That’s why I’m the maid of honor.”

Aaron leans on the back of sofa. “What did you give her?”

“Tequila.”

“Tequila?”

“You think wine is gonna calm that crazy down? No, Aaron. You need something a bit stronger.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “I wish I’d known that when I dragged her around the world with me.”

I laugh when he joins her at the bar. I laugh even harder when she shouts at Tyler for that glass of wine he offered. When he doesn’t move, she snaps his name and yells at Aaron not to pour a glass, all without looking away from the screen.

My stomach is actually hurting from laughing so hard. There’s something beautiful in the moment a man realizes that he wears the pants but his woman controls the zipper.

Apparently, Dayton controls two zippers.

“Come on.” Tyler grabs my hands and pulls me up off the sofa. “We’re going. I’m not taking her crap anymore.”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

I wave goodbye as he drags me out of the apartment and into the elevator. No sooner have the doors closed than his lips are on mine, hungry and tasting. Devouring and consuming.

“Whoa.” I grab his sweater to steady myself.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he whispers, nibbling down my neck.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s becoming a habit with you.” He pulls me out of the elevator and toward his car.

Since our wedding disaster summons came at the same time, he called and said that he’d get me. I didn’t realize how idiotic it was to agree until now.

“Well, make sure you don’t do it tomorrow. That would be embarrassing.”

“Tomorrow?”

“The shoot?”

His eyes flick to me. “Shoot? What? Oh—”

“Balfour Swimwear,” I say, spelling it out for him. “I’m one of the models testing.”

“When are you going in?”

“Twelve. I’m working tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he groans, pulling into the parking lot of a bar downtown. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he explains. “That means you’re one of the first. I’m going to be shooting girls all day with a fucking hard-on after you.”

“As long as it’s for me.” I give him a pointed look and get out of the car.

“Hey,” he growls, pulling me against him when he catches up with me. “You better believe it’s for you, baby girl. And I’ll need you to get rid of it after.”

I reach between us and squeeze him lightly. “Looks like tomorrow isn’t your problem right now.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the bar, his gaze heated. “If you behave yourself in here, I might just let you suck it later.”

“Might?” I raise my eyebrows and follow him into the bar. Not like I have a choice. He’s taking me in whether I want to or not.

And I’m trying not to freak about the one hundred thousand million lines this situation is jumping over.

“Trust me,” he mouths, getting the attention of the bartender.

Dammit. I hate that he can read me so well.

He puts two drinks in front of us—white wine for me and a beer for him. “Let’s talk.”

“About what? The weather? Isn’t that a Brit’s favorite topic?”

His lips curve into a wry smile. “Hardy-fucking-har. For the record, Seattle’s weather is about as shit as London’s.”

I grin.

“No, smartarse. I mean talk in general. You know, like people do.”

I draw a line between us on the table. He gets my meaning and instantly rubs it out with his finger. Dick.

“I want to know how you and Day ended up best friends. You are nothing alike.”

My grin widens. “Isn’t that the best part? Opposites attract and all that. Besides, you’d be surprised how alike we actually are.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You wouldn’t. We both have really hot tempers—”

“Noticed that,” he mutters.

I kick his shin. “We both have our guilty pleasure TV show—mine is The Big Bang Theory and hers is The Walking Dead. I know, they’re different, but whatever. We both like wine and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and my cat. No, scratch that. Nobody likes that grumpy little shit.”

Tyler laughs. “Seriously, though. You’re so different. I don’t see how it works.”

“It just does. Like, she plans everything down to the very last detail, but I’m impulsive. Like with the wedding—she jokes about eloping to get married, but she never would. She’d have a meltdown before she even reached the airport. If anyone’s going to elope to get married, it’d be me.” I sip my wine. “She prefers lingerie, but I prefer shoes. In fact, I’m pretty sure I have a pair of shoes for every set of lingerie I own.”

“Good to know.”

I roll my eyes. “She wears dresses and heels as standard, and I wear jeans and usually flats, despite my extensive heel collection.”

“All right, I get it. She’s high-maintenance and you’re…”

“Watch what you say there, buddy. Just because I pick comfort over blisters doesn’t mean I’m not high-maintenance.”

“The only high-maintenance thing about you is your attitude, Liv. In fact, you’re very easy to deal with when your mouth is occupied.”

I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “How would you know? You haven’t occupied it yet.”

Tyler leans in and hooks a finger under my chin, bringing my face close to his. “It can be arranged, babe.”

I lower his hand and sit back, a smile tugging at my mouth. “I’m sure it can be. But we’re talking right now, remember?”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of your mouth talking.”

“And I’m not sure I’m fan of yours doing the same thing, but isn’t life a bitch?”

He laughs. “Touché. Okay, what are we talking about now?”

I barely think before I ask him my next question. “When did you realize you were a sex addict?”

He jerks slightly and I know I caught him off guard. Good. That’s my favorite. “Jump right in there, why don’t you, love?”

I smile.

“That’s a serious question?” he clarifies.

“Absolutely. You want to talk, so let’s talk. Right down to the gritty bits. I assume that’s why we’re here.” I cross my legs beneath the table and lean back in the booth.

He catches his tongue between his teeth and studies me for a moment. “A couple of years ago. And before you ask, no, sex isn’t an outlet for some monumental fuck-up in my childhood. I like sex, I had a bit too much, and I got addicted. It works the same way as any addiction. You get one taste, you want more and more, then suddenly you can’t live without it.”

His eyes are focused on mine as he says the last sentence. The very same sentence that wraps around me, tightening my chest and ricocheting off every corner of my mind.

“I never assumed sex was an outlet,” I say almost tightly.

“People use sex for a lot of things. Some people use it as a guard. Don’t they?”

“And I’m not ashamed to admit I use sex as a guard. There’s nothing wrong with protecting my heart by using my body.” I tap my fingers against the table. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting your future by securing your past.”

“Why are you so afraid?” he asks softly, resting his hand over mine and stopping my tapping. “What do you have to be so afraid of?”

A bitter laugh leaves me. “No. I’m done talking now.”

“Liv.”

“Tyler, please,” I whisper. My words are barely audible over the noise in the bar.

I’m not ready for that—I’m not ready to admit out loud to someone how I almost died because I was once addicted to someone so intensely that I truly believed my life wasn’t worth living without him.

“I’ll take you home.” He stands.

I do, too, wrapping my arms around my stomach. Those memories are tightly locked away. Stuck in a box locked with a key I threw away long ago. I don’t want to remember them and see the pain in my best friend’s eyes when I regained consciousness or the helplessness in my parent’s gaze.

The ride back to my apartment is almost painful. There’s an uneasy silence between us, and the longer it goes on, the more the reality of this situation collapses onto me.

There are no lines.

As easily as he wiped away my invisible one on the table earlier, Tyler has wiped away the real ones.

There are no lines, but there are strings and all sorts of bullshit I’m not prepared to wade through right now.

“Come up,” I say, my hand on the door. “With me.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. He follows me up the stairs. When we reach the top, Sean’s door opens and he steps out. His mouth forms an ‘o’ and he looks at me.

“Maybe I’ll try again later,” he mutters.

“Sean,” I say, knowing that he’s looking for an introduction, “this is Tyler. Tyler, this is my neighbor, Sean.”

I think Sean’s about to fall over and Tyler hasn’t even opened his mouth yet.

“Nice to meet you, mate. Sorry about last time.”

“He’s British,” Sean states, looking at me.

He drops Tyler’s hand and gasps like a schoolgirl. I shake my head frantically, begging him not to say anything. I can see it all falling into place.

“He’s Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Oh So British!” he all but squeals.

Thank you, Sean, you rat bastard.

“Nice to see you, Sean. We’ll catch up soon. Goodbye!” I push my apartment door open and walk in.

Tyler is laughing behind me, and as much as I’m annoyed at Sean for blurting that out, I’m thankful that he cut through the tension.

“Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Oh So British, huh?”

I clap my hands to my flaming cheeks. “I didn’t know your name. I had to call you something when I explained to my other best friend how you stole my orgasm and that pretty much summed it up.”

“I stole your orgasm?”

“Eh. You gave it back, so who cares?”

“Want another?” He kisses the back of my neck.

I turn to face him and grip the collar of his shirt. “I’m not going to argue if you insist.”

“In that case…” He cups my ass and pulls me flush against him before sealing his mouth against mine. My knees weaken at the fervor he kisses me with, like he’s drowning and I’m the air he needs to survive.

Deep and intense, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue touches me everywhere. I back up until I bump into my kitchen table. Tyler slides his hands to the back of my knees and lifts me, setting me on the top of it.

He steps between my legs and pushes his already-solid cock against my center. I slide my hands around his neck and grip his hair. I tug lightly and he groans into my mouth.

He undoes the zipper on my sweater and slides it over my shoulders. My tank top soon follows, our kiss breaking for a second so he can tug it over my head. I let go of his hair to pull at his shirt, to feel his skin naked against mine. Together, we make short work of the buttons and I throw it to the floor, pulling him back to me.

His skin is hot, his chest smooth apart from the light hair dusting his pecs. I slide my hips into his, rubbing myself against him, and he kisses down my neck.

“You’re wearing it,” he murmurs, finding the blue-lace cup of the bra and running his tongue along the curve of my breast.

I try to shrug, but it fails. Instead, I take a deep breath when he undoes my jeans.

“Lift your hips.” He pulls my pants down my legs and steps back. His eyes appraise me from head to toe, lingering at my hips and the lace thong covering me. “God,” he groans, stepping back to me and unclasping my bra. “You’re so fucking sexy, Liv.”

I flatten my hands on the table behind me and arch my back when he seals his mouth around one of my nipples and sucks hard. I feel the tug right in my pussy. My muscles clench and—oh, crap.

Steadying himself, his hand next to mine on the table, Tyler dips two fingers inside me. The feeling of his tongue rubbing over my tender nipples and his fingers working my pussy is insanely good. I moan loudly, pushing my hips into his hand as best I can.

“I wanted your mouth around my cock tonight,” he whispers, bringing his mouth up to my ear. “I wanted to fuck your mouth so hard your throat would be sore tomorrow. But now I’ve changed my mind.” He sheds his pants and boxer briefs and replaces his fingers with his cock. “Instead, I think I’ll fuck you until your sweet cunt is sore.”

And he does. Relentlessly, he drives into me, making me cry out with every thrust. Each one is more desperate than the last, and I come quickly, squeezing him tightly.

He grunts out my name, and I feel him come in hot spurts, filling me completely. His skin burns against mine as he slumps forward. He slides a hand up my back to my hair and pulls my face to him.

I wrap an arm around his neck and bury my face in the crook of his shoulder. My heart is pounding so intensely that I’m certain he can feel it. Certain he can feel the burning, finally sated, desire flooding through my veins.

“Mmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against me. “Now I’m better.”

He looks down at me, and I smile lazily. “You really are, aren’t you?”

“Yep. What can I say? Being referred to as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome obviously turns me the fuck on.”

I laugh and sit up straight. He eases himself out of me before disappearing into my bathroom. He returns with a towel, and I clean myself up. I hop off the table and look at it.

“I guess I’m bleaching that in a minute.”

His laugh is deep and rich, and it makes me smile. It’s contagious and addictive, and I find myself giggling as I grab the bleach spray and a cloth. I coat the table in the spray and scrub it.

“Do you often clean in the nude?”

I glance over my shoulder to see his pants back on. “Nope. This is a special show just for you.”

He smacks my ass. “Tease.”

I wiggle my butt with a wink and dart across the kitchen before he can slap me again. He folds his arms and watches me walk to my bedroom. I put on some clean underwear and some sweatpants.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. At the shoot,” Tyler says when I walk into the front room.

I watch him walk to the front door. “You don’t have to. Go yet. I mean…” I take a deep breath. “You can stay. If you want to. For a bit.” I wrap my arms around my body, fear slicing through my words.

He turns, his eyes slowly finding mine. “Do you really mean that or are you just saying it?”

“Both. Maybe. I think.”

He smiles sadly and comes back to me, kissing me softly. “I’ll go.”

Two steps, and—“Don’t. I want you to stay.”

A long moment passes as he studies me over his shoulder. I swallow. My mouth is dry, my chest is tight, and my stomach is rolling in fear. This is a huge moment. For me, for him… For the dynamic of our so-called no-strings.

Just two days ago, I was yelling at him for buying me underwear. Now, here I am, asking him to stay after he fucked me.

Well, I already broke one rule and got to know him a little, so what’s breaking another?

Trust me, he said.

“This is me trusting you, Ty,” I say softly.

He takes my hands and pulls them away from my body. His arms go around me in a strong hug, and I rest my head against his chest.

“I’m hungry.” His chest rumbles deeply with his words. “The Big Bang Theory and a takeout?”

“Why not?”