I rub the lingering sleep from my eyes as I park my car outside the bar. The new bar. Aaron’s bar.

Kind of my bar.

It’s an odd feeling, knowing that, in twelve days, the bar will be ready to open and I’ll be the guy—er, gal—in charge. The only thing I’ve ever really been in charge of before is my freakin’ cat, and considering his lack of canned food, he’d argue that I do a pretty crappy job.

I pause in the middle of the sidewalk and set a reminder to go to the store and get Angus some food. And food for me because my cupboards are seriously skinny right now.

Tucking my phone in the pocket of my sweater, I walk into the bar, now named Indulgence. Not much has changed since Aaron brought me here a few days ago. There’s still dust everywhere despite the use of dust sheets, and I’m still given a bright yellow hard-hat before I can go more than five steps.

At least there are a million black marble tiles stacked in the corner ready to be laid on the floor.

There are no tables, no curtains, no bar, but there’s flooring.

Reassuring.

I wander around for a bit, aimlessly taking in what’s going on. I’m getting ready to leave when one of the builders holding a floor plan waves for my attention. I make my way through tools and various construction items toward him.

“Yes?”

“Are you Liv Warren?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

He visibly relaxes. “Great. Miss, we have a problem with the bar.”

No, you don’t. “What is it?”

He sets the floor plan out on a stack of wood that will eventually become the stairs and points to the area where it meets the edge of the bar. “Because of the poor construction in the upper level, we have to bring the stairs out by another two feet.” He runs his finger down the seating opposite the bar. “This will mean that you can’t have seats here and it’ll thin your walkway space from the seating area to the dance floor.”

I blink at the plans for a moment. “Give me a second.” I walk away from him and pull out my phone to dial the number for Aaron’s office.

“Hello. Aaron Stone’s office?”

“Hi, Dottie. This is Liv. Is Aaron around?”

“He’s just about to go to a meeting. Is it urgent?”

“It’s pretty important, yeah.”

“Just a sec.”

I hear a rustle as she moves the phone then a low rumble of voices. Seconds later, Aaron comes on the line.

“What can I do for you, Liv?”

I explain everything the builder just said to me, but he cuts me off halfway through.

“Shit. Okay, look. I can’t be late for this meeting. Just do what you think is best, even if it means overriding the plans, all right?”

“Uh”—shit—“sure.”

The line goes dead. I close my eyes and mutter a few choice words. I did not sign up for this.

“Okay,” I breathe, rejoining the builder and running my eyes over the plans. “Can you move the bar?”

“I guess… To here or here.”

“Then the dance floor would be here, correct?” I circle the area at the bottom of the stairs.

He nods. “Yes. Take away a foot of floor and the stairs would come out in the seating area in front of the bar, and then you could go either way.”

“And it wouldn’t impact the access to the storeroom, coatroom, or restrooms?”

“No, ma’am. If you put the bar along this wall, it’ll actually be easier access for staff.”

“Perfect. Put the bar here”—I point to along the wall—“the main seating area here”—I circle the area in front of it—“and the dance floor here. But make sure there’s a space to access the restrooms without having to go through the dance floor. And while we’re here, could you put a minibar in upstairs? I believe Mr. Stone wants it to be VIP and special occasion only, so they’ll want their drinks served separately.”

“We can fit a corner bar in here.” He taps the paper. “It’ll be big enough for one member of staff only.”

“That’s great. Can you start the new plan tomorrow?”

The builder confirms that they can and gets back to work. I breathe out a long sigh and look around.

Maybe I am cut out for this management malarkey after all.

Two hands grasp my hips and pull me backward. I gasp as I slam into a hard body and hot breath flutters over my ear.

“I’m disappointed in your lack of amenities. I was hoping for a Blow Job,” Tyler murmurs into my ear, his fingers digging into my hips.

“I’m sorry. We’re not serving yet. You’ll have to try again when there’s, oh, I don’t know, a bar, maybe?”

He laughs low and buzzes his lips along my jaw. “Or I’ll try again later today. What do you think my chances are?”

“Considerably higher if you start with saying hello.”

He spins me effortlessly and clasps his hands at my lower back. I rest my own against his chest and look up at him. The bright-yellow hard hat is lopsided on his head, and his dark eyes are shining with both heat and happiness. His lips twitch twice before tugging into a smirk.

“Hello,” he says simply. “You’re very sexy when you go all bossy. Are you aware of this?”

“Hello. I am now.” I smile as he dips his head and covers my mouth with his.

“No, I mean you’re very sexy.” He nudges my back with his hands. My hips push into him…and his very obvious erection.

“You’ve been in here five minutes and you’re already ready to go? Are you a teenage boy lying to me about your age?”

“No, luckily for you. They don’t have the best stamina.”

“Word,” I mutter. “You’re back early. I wasn’t expecting you to call until later.”

“Couldn’t say away,” he replies honestly. “I was up at the fucking ass-crack of dawn to get back here.”

“Why, Tyler Stone, did you miss me?”

He brings one hand up and cups my jaw, pulling my face close to his. “Missed what’s inside your knickers.”

I smack his chest. “Asshole.”

He tries to kiss me, but I jerk my face to the side and he ends up grinning against my cheek. “Hey, fiestypants. My cock missed what’s inside your knickers. I missed you. Just you.”

“I should hope so. I’m very missable.” I let him kiss me this time.

“I didn’t miss your sass though.”

I smack him again and step back. “Oh, romance me.” I roll my eyes and set my hard hat on some planks of wood by the door.

He does the same and follows me outside. “Oh, I have.” He grins and grabs my hand. His Mercedes is parked outside, and he pulls me toward it. He lets go and opens the passenger’s side door then grabs something from inside it.

“Oh my fucking god.”

I stare at him blankly. The roses and handcuffs thing? Yeah. He really was deadly serious.

He grins like the fucker he is. “There’s actually a tie, too. I didn’t know if you’d still be in a handcuff mood today.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. “You are something else, Tyler Stone.”

“Will that get me a blow job?”

I cover my mouth with a hand as an old woman walks past and stares at us wide-eyed. I wait until she turns the corner of the street to look at Tyler. He’s shaking with quiet laughter.

“I wasn’t aware that I had a choice in the matter,” I finally say, still fighting my smile.

His eyes light up and he drops the roses back into the car. “That’s right,” he mutters, stalking back toward me. “You don’t, do you?”

“And here I was thinking you were going soft on me now that we’re in this relationship situation.”

“I could never go soft on my bitch.” He cups the side of my head, his fingers sinking in my hair, and pulls me into him. “In fact, tonight, I plan to go very, very hard on you.” He tilts my head back, his mouth by my ear, and adds, “On both your mouth and your pussy. I hope you’re ready.”

“That depends. Are you buying me dinner first?”

“McDonald’s does not count as dinner.”

“You said dinner. You didn’t say you wanted a restaurant dinner, or a Chinese dinner, or a sushi dinner, so we’re having a McDonald’s dinner.” He grins at me.

“But it’s not dinnertime. It’s lunch.”

“It could be breakfast as long as I get a blow job.” His grin widens and he leans over to speak into the mic. “Hi, can I have a large Big Mac meal with a Coke and a Quarter Pounder bacon cheeseburger but without all the gherkins and onions and a strawberry milkshake?”

My half-amused, half-annoyed stare turns shocked. “How the hell do you know what I order at McDonald’s?”

“I don’t. I took a lucky guess that you order exactly the same as Dayton.”

She’s my best friend and marrying his cousin, but it bugs me that he knows her better than me.

Is that irrational?

Fuck. It is.

I mentally slap myself. Pull your shit together, Olivia.

My phone rings as we drive to the next window and Nana’s name blinks onscreen. Um?

“Nana? Is everything okay?”

“You said you were going to call me, and then you didn’t, you wombat!”

Wombat? “Okay, one, it’s only been, like, three days, and two, you told me not to call you because I’d just piss you off!”

Tyler looks at me with raised eyebrows and a half grin.

“You know what pisses me off? You not calling when you said you would,” Nana replies.

“You sound like a teenage girl who fucked up her date.”

“Whatever, Olivia. Did you sort your shit out?”

I smile. “Yes, Nana. I sorted my shit out.”

“Good.” Silence for a moment. “Did you need something? I thought I told you not to call me because you’d piss me off.”

I take a deep breath. “No, Nana. I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“Good. Don’t call me again, you dingbat.”

“Okay. I’ll remember not to call you again.”

“You better. Did you make up with that boy?”

I close my eyes this time. “Yes, Nana. I made it up with Tyler.”

“Good. Don’t call me again. Goodbye, Olivia. Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.” I hang up, shaking my head, and lean it back in the seat.

Tyler hands over the money, dumps the food in my lap, and pulls away from McDonald’s. “That sounded…eventful.”

I laugh quietly, more to myself than anything. “My nana has early Alzheimer’s. She’s always been a bit on the crazy side, and the Alzheimer’s exaggerates that somewhat.”

“Ah. Now your side of the conversation sort of makes sense.”

“Like how she forgot that she called me?” I smile wryly. “She’s at the stage where she’s only a little more forgetful than any other old person, so I dunno. It’s kind of funny sometimes. When I went to my parents’ place, she told me, like, five times that she was staying in my room.” I roll my eyes.

“It must be hard.”

I shrug a shoulder. “She’s still ‘there.’ She’s still her, just with extra bounce, I guess. When she starts forgetting her way home or who we are, then we can worry. If we worried now, she’d just claim we were doing it deliberately to piss her off.”

“Sounds exactly like my sister,” he replies with a dry tone. “She’s sure my anger at her knobhead of an ex-husband is because I’m trying to piss her off.”

“Eh, I can see where she’d get the idea.” I dig my hand into the bag and shove a few fries in my mouth.

Tyler shoots me a glare. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You are kind of annoying sometimes. And persistent. And ‘Me man. Me always right.’”

“What does that mean?”

I roll my eyes and feed him a handful of fries. Mostly so he can’t argue while I talk. “It means your sister is a big girl and doesn’t need her little brother”—a noise that sounds like a growl leaves Tyler—“bugging her ass and looking after her.”

He chews quicker. “She’s smaller than me.”

“And if she has half your no-shit attitude, I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” I raise my eyebrows and get out of the car.

“She actually has your no-shit attitude, but that isn’t the point,” he argues, walking around to me. “How did this conversation even get to this from McDonald’s?”

I shrug and hold the food out to him. He looks at it then back at me.

“You don’t expect me to carry this, do you? That’s what boyfriends do.”

Tyler’s lips pull up on one side, and the next thing I know, he’s wrapping one arm around my back and sweeping the other behind my knees. I scream when he lifts me and holds me snug against his body.

“No,” he laughs into my ear. “This is what boyfriends do. Wrap your arm around my neck.”

“This is ridiculous. You’ve clearly watched too many Disney movies.” I rest my arm around his shoulders, both the drinks and the food in my lap.

“Enough to know there’s always a happy ending.”

I open my mouth and close it again. I don’t want to think about endings. I want to think about beginnings.

“And the fact that there’s nearly always a sequel, so if you fuck it up the first time, you get a second try.”

I dig my fingers into the hollow of his collarbone. “Where is your faith?”

He pushes the button on the elevator. Somehow. “This from the woman who argued the toss with me until giving in to me in a post-orgasm haze.”

I purse my lips. “Well, this is kind of fucked up.”

“We’re the best kind of fucked up, baby girl. You know why? We know it and we don’t give a shit.” He winks and steps into the elevator.

I kick my legs softly. “The elevator? That’s not very boyfriend-like.”

“If you think I’m lugging your ass up those stairs, you can think again.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No. I’m calling myself lazy.”

I purse my lips again. Good answer, dick. Good answer. I shake my head as the elevator shudders to a stop on the third floor.

“You have to put me down. I need to get my key out.”

“Where is it?”

“My ass pocket. I’m pretty sure there’s a key-shaped imprint on my butt cheek from sitting in your car.”

“Never mind. I’ll put my hand imprint there later.” He eases me to standing, and I shiver at his words.

He dips his hand into my back pocket, gives my ass a hard squeeze, then pulls out the key. I give him a dirty look, but I’m certain it’s spoiled by the half grin on my face.

Tyler smirks and unlocks my door. Then freezes. “Shit, Liv. And you say my apartment is messy.”

Oops. I did kind of forget to tidy up. “Um.”

He glances back at me, the smirk still in place, and shakes his head. “Put The Big Bang Theory on and I might just forgive the fact your bra is hanging over the back of the chair and making me hard as hell.”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows, dump the food on the coffee table, and turn to the DVD player. “From a bra?”

“Yes.” His eyes darken. “Because I can imagine chucking your bra over the chair then bending you over that table.”

I swallow, ignoring the ache in my clit. “Honey, you need to get laid.”

“That’s the plan.”

I grab the DVD controller off the table, ignoring him, and sit back on the sofa. He swipes the food from the table and drops next to me. I hold my hand out expectantly for my food. He stares at my hand for a moment.

Then he pulls his fries from the bag and pushes play on the controller.

I cough, waving my hand. He eats some fries and moves my hand down.

“Can’t see the telly,” he mumbles through his food.

“Gross.” I make a swipe for the bag, but he holds it to the side. “Tyler! You’re such a fucking child!” I jab him in the bicep.

He winces, dropping his arm, and I take the chance to grab the bag.

With a laugh, I say, “Ha! Who has the food now?” I get up and run around the table, digging in for my burger. I unwrap it and tear a bite off in a very unladylike way.

Hey, if the guy can fuck me on a regular basis, he can deal with my eating habits.

“Liv,” he says slowly, standing, his eyes dead on mine. “Give me my burger.”

I shake my head.

“Liv.” An undercurrent of a threat is in his voice, and despite the small thrill it sends through my body, I take another bite of my burger.

“Yes?”

“The burger.”

I shake my head for a second time. “Nope. You take my food, I take yours.”

“You took it back.” He cocks an eyebrow, taking slow steps toward me.

I back up until I hit the counter. “And I’m keeping it.”

He sighs, letting his shoulders sag. “I didn’t want to do this, but…”

Quicker than I can move, he darts around the table toward me. He flattens his hands on the counter on either side of my body and rests his hips against mine.

Dipping his head, he runs his nose along my jaw. “Are you going to give me the food?”

“Are you trying to seduce me into giving you it?” I gasp at the feel of his tongue flicking against the tender spot below my ear.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Liv. I am seducing you. I don’t try.” His lips brush along my neck, just below my jawline.

My eyes flutter shut, and he settles one of his hands on my hip. His fingers edge beneath my sweater and my shirt, tantalizingly rubbing against my skin, and I tilt my head back. He continues his exploration of my neck with his mouth, humming against my skin, whispering into my neck, pushing his hardening cock into my thigh…

“Thanks,” he says, grabbing the bag and stepping away.

Oh holy hell fucking no!

“Going somewhere?” I snap out, discarding my burger to the side and grabbing his sweater. I tug, spinning him.

Amusement and desire battle in his eyes. “To the sofa. To eat.”

“Oh, no, you’re not. You’re going to come over here and finish what you just started, Tyler Stone.”

He sets the bag on the kitchen table and studies me. “Am I adding demanding to my list of adjectives for you?”

“Go ahead.”

A smirk teases his lips. “Okay, my demanding bitch.” He comes back to me and stands in front of me without touching me. “What exactly am I supposed to be finishing?”

I look up at him. “Don’t play dumb with me. You can’t come over here, turn me the fuck on, then walk away like my panties aren’t soaked.”

“They’re soaked, hmm? Just from that?” He traps me with his hands again. His breath fans across my mouth, and I lick my lips.

“Why don’t you find out?” I challenge, his eyes sparking immediately.

“In that case…” He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and tugs them down over my ass.

I gasp as he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me up onto the counter. Perching on the edge, I watch as he pulls the jeans from my legs and dumps them on the floor. He runs his hands back up my legs, spreading his fingers wide when he reaches my thighs, and pauses just before his thumbs touch my thong.

“I think I will.”

Tyler nudges the material of my thong to the side in one jerky movement. His thumb brushes along my pussy, circling my clit quickly. I gasp and he groans.

“Good girl.” His voice rumbles through me as he lifts his hands and eases my sweater over my head.

My shirt quickly follows, and as he steps closer, he cups both of my breasts. He kisses along the cup line of my bra and up. Deftly, he undoes my bra and it falls down my arms.

“I can’t decide if I want to tie your hands or have them in my hair,” he whispers in my ear, rolling my nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

I wrap my legs around his waist and tug on his sweater and shirt. He releases my breasts long enough to pull them over his head then pulls my body against his. The movement is hard, and my lips part at the exact time he touches his own lips to them.

Tyler’s tongue sweeps through my mouth in familiar, easy movements, desperate movements, needing movements. His fingers slide up my thighs, probing, squeezing, and they leave me only long enough to undo his belt and shove his jeans down.

He grabs my wrists and flattens my hands behind me so I’m leaning back and slowly rubs the end of his cock against my wetness.

“Please,” I whisper.

It’s been two days. Two long, seemingly torturous days since I’ve had him inside me, and I’ve never been so desperate for him. For that fleeting feeling of completeness and rightness.

In one swift movement, he’s inside me and gripping my hips. His teasing movements of earlier are gone as he drives himself relentlessly into me. It’s raw and unbridled.

It’s perfect.

He sucks hard on one of my nipples, making me cry out in both pain and pleasure. He does the same to the other then slides a hand up my back, fists my hair, and pulls my mouth down to his. His kiss is as rough as his fucking, every thrust of his tongue matching that of his hips.

It doesn’t take long for that sweet heat of an impending orgasm to overwhelm me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers in his hair the way his are tangled in mine. I break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, breathing heavily, moaning with almost every exhale.

“Liv. Fucking hell, Liv,” he groans, moving even faster. “God, I need this. I need you.”

His words are my undoing. They scare me and thrill me and consume me. I clench around him, my world utterly silent except for the rush of blood in my ears and those three final words spinning inside my mind.

“I need you.”

I come back down with a crash. His arms are tight around me, and both my arms and legs are still wrapped around his body, holding us together.

But they’re not really holding us. The thing that’s holding us is the strength of our addictions. It’s gluing us to the other, all while we’re trying to make something potentially beautiful from something incredibly ugly.

“Oh, look at that. We went straight to dessert.”

Tyler’s words make me laugh, and I pull back. His eyes are bright, much brighter than before. If that doesn’t tell me the intensity of his addiction to sex, I don’t know what will.

I’m sure my eyes are just as bright.

“Come here.” He nudges my nose with his and slides me off the counter. Without letting me go, he carries me through to my room. Just when I’m smiling at his act of romance, he pulls out of me and dumps me unceremoniously on my bed.

I shriek and grab my sheet to stop myself from falling onto the floor. “You dick!” I yell as he disappears into the bathroom.

Of course, he laughs. He never takes me seriously when I yell insults at him, and that’s half the fun.

“Hey, bitch.” He throws a towel on top of me and then jumps over me. His knees are on either side of my thighs, his forearms by my head, and his grinning face is hovering just inches above mine.

“What?” I ask, awkwardly reaching between us and wiping. Somehow, I ease my panties down and throw them on the floor.

His smile widens. “You never gave me my blow job.”

My own lips move to mirror his, and I tap his nose. “That’s what you get for teasing me and fucking me on my kitchen counter. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to clean the counter while you call and order me a replacement dinner.”

I scoot up the bed and swing my legs over the side. Then I grab a pair of cotton shorts from my drawer and pull them on.

“You forgot your underwear.”

I pause at the door and glance over my shoulder. “A woman never forgets her underwear. What she puts on—or doesn’t—is entirely deliberate and always serves a purpose. You should remember that.”