Be My Temptation Read online

  He clinked his mug against mine and smiled. “My brother would be an idiot not to keep hold of you.”

  “Well, yeah, I’m clearly a catch.”

  And that was the first time I thought of Josh like that.

  Present day.

  I SWIRLED THE GLASS of whiskey around as I sat at the bar of Delights with Duke, my high school best friend, and the guy who liked to call himself my wingman. An unnerving feeling sat in the pit of my stomach, and even the scantily-clad women around me weren’t grabbing my attention like they usually would. However, I knew I wouldn’t end the night unsatisfied.

  This was our regular Friday night jaunt. We would meet up for a late dinner, and then head to Delights where we’d either stay and drink stupid amounts of Whiskey, or leave with the women each of us picked up for the night. Random pussy and high-priced liquor were my usual extra-curricular activities on the weekend, and it seemed tonight would be no different.

  The moment I stepped into the bar, a petite little redhead sauntered up to me, and I knew I’d be sinking into her by the end of the night. I didn’t know what it was about women in gentlemen clubs, but for some reason they lost all of their inhibitions and started flaunting the fuck out of themselves to get your attention. It may sound like an asshole statement, but I was guaranteed to get laid.

  “Man, where’s your head at?” Duke asked from beside me.

  Ten days was a long time to be separated from someone you spoke to every day. Ten days of no contact from Ashlyn made me anxious. Ashlyn’s phone was always with her. She was always texting or emailing, so the fact that I hadn’t heard from her wasn’t normal.

  I was not going to start divulging my thoughts about Ashlyn to someone like Duke while we were sitting at a bar surrounded by tits and pussy. Fuck that. So I did what he was expecting, I started talking about my plans for the night.

  “What else would I be thinking about, asshole? I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to that redhead. Fuck, I thought she was one of the girls, but apparently she’s a bridesmaid.”

  Duke diverted his gaze from mine and looked at the redhead across the bar. “Jesus Christ, you’re a lucky prick.”

  I smirked into my whiskey, pleased that I seemed to distract him for now.

  Call me a womanizer. Call me a male slut. Call me a man whore. I’ve heard them all before, and I know I’ll hear them again. Mom had all but given up on the idea of me settling down, and my older brother Ky liked to put shit on me about my revolving door of women.

  Did I have my reasons for not wanting a relationship? Hell yes, I did. Were they common knowledge? Nope. My plan was simple: keep doing what I do. It was straight and to the point, plus my cock received regular action. What could be better?

  Duke muttered something about seeing a woman who’d gotten his attention, before disappearing into the crowd, and I knew I wouldn’t see him again. I flipped my phone over in my hand as my mind headed straight back to Ashlyn. I threw back the rest of my whiskey, then swiped open my phone and clicked onto the Facebook icon. She wasn’t texting, she wasn’t calling, but there was no way Miss Facebook herself wasn’t updating her status from Australia.

  I typed her name in the search bar and smiled as her overly-excited face appeared on the screen. Fuck, she was stunning to look at, with long blond hair—the type of blond that lightened in the sun—cascading down her back, eyes that were the lightest of green and twinkled every time she smiled, and her lips—fuck her lips—that were pouty, pink, and enticing. I tore my eyes from her profile picture and looked at her latest status.

  Officially on vacation and ready for an adventure. #Downunder #EdenWaterMyPlants

  Her page was devoid of any recent updates, and the last status was from two weeks ago, which happened to be the day before she left for Sydney. Frustration roared through me. It would seem that Miss Facebook had officially disappeared.

  Even when she wasn’t in the country, she was taking up my thoughts. I had a redhead giving me yes-you-are-going-to-fuck-me eyes from across the bar, yet Ashlyn fucking Hart had decided to wiggle her way into my thoughts and make herself known.

  We had our night; one that connected us, embedded her into my life, and vice versa. I took her virginity, and she was the only girl I could say that about. She gave me her innocence, something no one else would ever own, and for that I felt more connected to her than I had to anyone else. Our night was definitely one of firsts. She slept in my bed. A bed I had never shared with another woman, and I wrapped her delicious curves in my arms all night, refusing to let go. When I awoke the morning after to an empty bed, I thought that was it. I thought I’d never see her again, that it was just a one-night stand, and she had gotten what she wanted. I’ll never forget the feeling of regret that hit me at the thought of not getting her number or organizing to see her again. She was the first girl that had made me consider something so unlike me. I wanted to see her again, I was desperate to delve into that gorgeous pussy again, but the universe fucked me over. That morning was the beginning of the intense friendship Ky and Ashlyn would share. It was the morning I saw the brother I thought I’d never see again. He was laughing for the first time in a long fucking time, and it was all because of the gorgeous blond whose scent still lingered on my skin. It was then that I made a decision that has haunted me continually for the past four years.

  But the past was the past, and I couldn’t let those what-ifs slip into my mind. What-ifs were worse than regrets. I could deal with regrets, because at least I tried. What-ifs were the possibilities I never had the balls to pursue.

  The redhead slid onto the stool beside me, placing her hand suggestively on my upper thigh, and soon I was brought back to the now.

  “You want to get out of here?” I focused my attention squarely on the redhead and decided that Ashlyn was an adult and could do whatever the hell she wanted. I had no right to her.

  With a lick of her lips and a flutter of her eyes, I got my answer, and I was leaving with my entertainment for the night.

  Six hours, two rounds of fucking, and a hand job later, I was sneaking out of a swanky hotel suite in the city and climbing into a cab to head home. The sky transformed into a burst of purples, with glimpses of orange. As usual, I was leaving before the awkward morning after talk, and the rejection I would cause when making it clear that I was a one-night man.

  Why was I a one-night man? Because the woman who tormented my thoughts, who clawed her way into my heart, who I craved like the perfect drug, was someone I stepped away from years ago. My greatest regret, my biggest sacrifice, my ultimate temptation. The reason? It was something I held close to my chest.

  As the morning sunshine beamed through the clouds and hit the inside of the cab, I rested my head on the window and sighed. Exhaustion overtook me. I was getting too old for this shit, but I knew it wouldn’t end any time soon. This was who I was. As my apartment building appeared in the distance, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

  “It’s early,” I said with a groan after swiping across the screen and answering my brother’s call.

  “You home?” Ky’s annoyingly alert voice echoed in my ear.

  I looked at my watch as it ticked over to eight A.M.

  “First, why must you call me so early? And second, it’s Saturday morning, of course I’m not home. I’m in a cab now, almost home.”

  “You’ve been out on pussy patrol again? At the rate you’re going, your dick is going to fall off.”

  It was far too early for this conversation. “Thanks for putting that visual in my head.”

  “Tell him I’m going to find him a nice girl.”

  Oh great, he had me on speaker.

  I settled back into the seat and closed my eyes. Matchmaker Eden was on high alert. I loved her to death, and would do anything for her, but being set up on a blind date with a nice girl, as she so lovingly stated, was something I refused.

  “You hear that? Now you’ve not only got Mom on your case, but you have Eden trying to set
you up. You know what she’s like when she gets an idea in her head. You’re in trouble, little brother.”

  “Christ,” I mumbled as the cab pulled up to my apartment building. “Control your woman.”

  “Did he just call me woman?” Eden shrieked.

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  I shoved my phone into my pocket, handed the driver some cash, and stepped out of the cab. Upon entering into the foyer, I gave the building’s long-standing maintenance man an inaudible grunt hello and made my way to the elevator. A shower, a gallon of water, and my bed, would feel like winning the fucking lottery. As I made my way to the eighth floor, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my unanswered text messages. Every time I checked my phone I hoped to see Ashlyn’s name. But it was never there. Where the fuck is she?

  When I finally stepped into my apartment, I was overcome with relief. I threw my keys on the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch in a heap. My head dropped into my hands, and I felt my eyes slowly begin to close. Soon enough, a headache decided to take hold. Whether it was a hangover headache, a lack-of-sleep headache, or a you’re-too-old-to-be-doing-this-shit headache, I didn’t know.

  “Yep, you have the I-just-fucked-and-regret-it look all over your face.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, and I swear I jumped a mile off the couch as the sound of Ky’s taunting tone hit me unexpectedly. My head flew up from the confines of my hands, and I spun around on the couch to find Ky standing in the foyer wearing a shit-eating grin that screamed pure arrogance.

  Running my hands through my messy hair, I narrowed my eyes at him before I spoke. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He threw his head back and laughed, then headed into the kitchen like he owned the place. I looked at the ceiling briefly in frustration, before hurling myself off the couch and joining him. He threw me one of the bottles of water he had taken from the fridge, and I quickly opened the cap, then downed half of it in one go. The relief was immediate.

  “So, why are you here at eight fucking A.M.?”

  “Eden is checking on Ash’s place before we head out for breakfast. I thought I’d come check on my little brother.”

  My interest immediately piqued at the mention of Ashlyn.

  “Have you heard from her this week?” I probed before lifting the bottle of water to my lips and sighing in relief as the coolness flooded my throat.

  “She sent an email last week when she arrived in Sydney, but that’s it. Eden hasn’t heard from her either. I still can’t believe that asshole is back in her life.”

  Ky and Lachlan were friends in college after Lachlan relocated from Sydney. They were tight. Ky thought it was a perfect scenario to have Lachlan and Ashlyn dating, because he could hang out with them both. It was six months after Ashlyn and I spent the night together that she met Lachlan. They were together for two years before he left without a word, and left Ky and I had to pick up the pieces of a shattered Ashlyn. Ky cut all ties with Lachlan and vowed to destroy him if he set foot back in the states.

  To say we were shocked when he recently reappeared after two years would be an understatement. Ky was furious and I was pissed off, but Eden talked Ky down from beating the shit out of Lachlan, while I watched like a hawk. Why Ashlyn decided to give him another go, I had no fucking clue. Ky, however, had developed some kind of amnesia, brought on by being completely pussy whipped by Eden, because he seemed to give them his blessing. By the time he came to his senses, it was too late. Ashlyn had already reopened herself up to Lachlan, and that was where we found ourselves today; with her and Lachlan on the other side of the world, while she completely ignored all of our calls and texts.

  Knowing that Ky and Eden hadn’t heard from her either didn’t sit well with me. My stomach churned at the thought. I was about ready to suggest we jump on a plane and bring her home, but what reasoning did I have? She was with the guy she chose to be with, and who was I?

  I was the guy who considered Ashlyn Hart his forever girl, though now it would seem she was someone else’s forever girl too.

  That was where the problem lay.

  Fuck my life.

  I AWOKE WITH THE same thoughts that had been swirling around in my head for the past week.

  Men were assholes, and I needed to start batting for the other team.

  Who needed men anyway? Who needed their bullshit excuses and inability to treat a woman right? Yes, I knew they had cocks, and yes, I thoroughly enjoyed cock, but I could visit Fantasy World and stock up on battery-operated friends, right?

  As early morning sunshine beamed a new day through my apartment, I wondered if today would be my new beginning. In a sleepy daze, and with my hair in a topknot and my body swallowed by my favorite sweats and tank top, I stumbled from my bedroom into the stillness of the living room. Another day of solitude, which would involve getting lost in a romance novel and falling in love with a book boyfriend that couldn’t fuck me over, awaited me. Just like it had for the past seven days. I busied myself clearing the evidence of another night in hiding. I had no clue how I was able to stay incognito for a full week, seeing how I lived on the same floor as Josh Crawford and we were practically neighbors. The fact that he hadn’t seen Leon from my local Chinese restaurant delivering food, or Sally from the corner store supplying me with my body weight in Ben and Jerry’s, amazed me.

  I was a hot mess, and it was because of Lachlan Johnson, President of the All Men Are Assholes club.

  Lachlan Johnson: Australian, handsome, hot accent, and a gigantic, cheating asshole, whose balls I hoped would spontaneously burst into flames. He rocked my world for two years, before disappearing without a word. Nothing, zip, not even a goodbye. He was my first boyfriend and, based on the way he treated me, I thought it would be forever. So of course his disappearance devastated me. Our meeting was so cliché. We met at my favorite bar during a night out with Josh and Ky, and he offered to buy me a drink. Then we spent the night joined at the hip. The Australian accent was the icing on the cake. From that moment on, we were inseparable, and he was the first guy I had been with since my night with Josh. He provided me with an escape from my thoughts of a future with Josh. A future that seemed destined to be one of only friendship.

  He offered me the world. He said the right things, made the kind of promises every girl wanted to hear, and treated me like I was his queen. Then it exploded around me, and I was left to pick up the pieces. After coming home from a usual day at work—a day that involved texting with my supposedly loving boyfriend, I found an empty apartment, void of any evidence that he ever lived there. There was no note, no phone call, no text message . . . nothing.

  There was also nothing that could have prepared me for that.

  For two years, I reinvented myself. I threw myself into work and success came to me. My career as a highly-respected stylist saw me working on some of the most exclusive fashion shoots, and for some of the most high-profile magazines in the world. I was happy, satisfied, and when I wanted sex, I found it with the occasional one-night stand, since relationships were something I wasn’t strong enough for . . . yet. Of course, I still dreamed of a happily-ever-after, but I was a little more cynical these days. I was a bookworm who craved her romance novels and swooned at all the great love stories, but I was content with how things were in my life. I protected my heart fiercely, and it would take more than Prince Charming offering me a forever kind of love to make me to consider opening my heart again.

  You’d think I would have learned my lesson with the fuck up known as Lachlan Johnson, but nope, not me. When he suddenly reappeared after two years, I tried my hardest to give him all the attitude in the world. I promised myself I would not go back there, and I certainly wouldn’t open myself up to him again. But I failed. Miserably. Before I knew it, I had allowed him back into my bed. He once again sold me on his bullshit, and I fell for it all.

  And that brings me to now—a week of solitude and hiding the fact that I returned to my apartment instead of su
nbathing, enjoying cocktails on the beach, and shopping at Sydney’s high-end boutiques.

  My phone chirped with an incoming text message. I pulled it out of my pocket, and my breath hitched at the name on the screen.

  Josh.

  He had been texting me every day. He tried calling, but since I never answered, he stopped. I knew that if I answered, my cover would be blown because I wouldn’t be able to lie to him.

  With shaking hands, I opened his latest text message and read his words.

  Ashlyn, where the fuck are you? Have you suddenly forgotten about your life here? Please, message me and at least tell me you are okay. I care about you, you know. That hasn’t changed. All I need is that.

  I desperately wanted to respond, but I closed the screen and put my phone on the counter, then I turned to the coffee maker. As I stared at my favorite mug while waiting for the coffee to brew, emotion started stabbing furiously in my chest, and I was thrust back to the one moment that should have been so perfect.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I bellowed as I pulled off one of my heels and threw it at his head. “I traveled twenty-six fucking hours to surprise you, but what do you know? I am the one to get the biggest surprise.”

  Lachlan’s eyes widened, and he dodged the studded heel that torpedoed toward him. “Come here, Ash, we can talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” I hissed, rolling my eyes in his direction. “While I’ve been in New York planning this trip, taking time off work, and changing my whole schedule, you’ve been putting your dick in another chick.”

  He had no response, and his silence confirmed exactly what I assumed. The girl who was now struggling into her panties with just-fucked hair and flushed cheeks was the final nail in the coffin. The sight of Lachlan pounding into the brunette whose legs were wrapped around his waist would be forever etched into my memory.