Addicted for Now (2 page)

His breathing shallows, as though my tears are driving knots
into his stomach. Mine has already collapsed. I feel utterly destroyed by guilt
and shame and desperation.

His fingers dig harder in my sides, as though reminding me
that he’s here, touching me. “What’s going to happen,” he breathes, “is that
I’m going to carry you through this door. I’m going to draw out every single
moment until you’re exhausted. And I’m going to move so slow that three months
ago will feel like yesterday. And tomorrow will feel like today, and no one in
this fucking universe will be able to say your name without saying mine.”

And then he kisses me, so urgently, so passionately that my
lungs suffocate. His tongue gently slips into my mouth, and I savor each and
every movement. He kneads the back of my head, gripping my hair, yanking and
sending my nerves on overdrive.

His hands fall to my ass, and he effortlessly lifts me up. I
wrap my legs around his waist, squeezing tightly into a front-piggyback. He
guides me inside, just as he promised. I hook my arms underneath his and press
my cheek to his hard chest, listening to the unsteady beat of his heart. We’re
so close, but I still ache to be closer. My breath shallows for it.

He kisses the top of my head and carries me into my bedroom
on the second floor. Well—
our
bedroom.
My net canopy is pulled back, the comforter black and white with red sheets. Lo
rests my back against the mattress, and I reach up to grab a fist-full of his
shirt and yank him on top of me. But he steps back and shakes his head.

Slow
, I remember.
Right.

My legs dangle off the edge, and I prop myself on my elbows
as he stands in front of me.

“I’m yours,” he tells me. “I will always be yours, Lily. But
now it’s time for you to say it.”

I sit up and my eyes flit over all of him. In all our life,
he has never once said to me,
you are
mine
. He has never taken me the way I’ve taken him. He has
given
himself to me. And I realize, it’s
my time to make this right and give myself to him.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

The muscles in his jaw twitch, almost smiling. “I’ll believe
you when I see it.”

I squint. “Then why’d you tell me to say it?”

He leans forward, his lips so close to mine. His palms set
on either side of my body, forcing me to fall back a little. I hesitate to kiss
him. He’s testing me, I think. “Because I love those words.”

My lips part.
Kiss me
,
I plead. “I’m yours,” I breathe.

His eyes drop to mine, watching me, drawing out the moment.
The spot between my legs aches for him. I want the pressure of his body—to rock
against me, to fill me, to say my name over and over.

Kiss me.
“I’m
yours,” I choke, wide-eyed in utter suspense.

And then he sucks on the bottom of my lip, he teasingly
bites it and then sinks his pelvis into mine. I buck my hips to meet him and he
lets me.

Lo grips the hem of his shirt and tugs it off his head,
tossing it aside. Before I run my palms over his taut chest and newly sharpened
abs, he laces his fingers with mine. Simultaneously, he puts his knee on the
mattress and pulls me higher onto the bed, my head finding the pillow.

He climbs on and keeps my hands trapped in his. Then he
stretches my arms high above me, our knuckles knocking into the headboard.

His body hovers over me, no longer melded together. I squirm
beneath the space I dearly hate, my heart thudding and raging to be even
closer. “Lo…” I can’t take it anymore. My back arches a little as I try to meet
his body again, and he tilts his head, disapproving.

So I stay still. I try to let him take control since I need
to go slow. His lips lower but linger from touching mine. He keeps that
distance as he unbuttons my jeans, relinquishing the hold on my hand. He uses
his other to guide my palm to his zipper.
Yes.
It takes only seconds before I have him unzipped and unbuttoned, tugging
his jeans off with familiarity. I wiggle out of mine and he lifts the shirt off
my head, in nothing but a black lacy bra and panty set. I did know he was
coming home today, after all.

He soaks in the curvature of my body with headiness, and he
begins to remove his last article of clothing. “Eyes on me,” he says huskily.

They are permanently fixed to the bulge in his boxer-briefs.
“They are,” I mumble. Technically this is
a
part
of him.

“My eyes, love, not my cock,” he says, a smile behind the
words.

I raise my gaze as he slips off his boxer-briefs. Watching
the way he looks at me nearly sends me into a tailspin. I swallow and can’t
help but catch a glimpse. Oh God, I need him now. He’s hard and as wanting as I
am, but yet, he has restraint.

I do not.

He could easily take advantage of my eagerness, most guys
would. But in order to help me, he has to control my impatience and my
compulsion to go again. And again. Because my addiction isn’t entirely a
one-way street the way his is. I need his body in order to satisfy these
unhealthy desires.

So he must say no at some point. I just don’t want it to be
soon.

 
He leans forward
again, and his lips begin their descent from my neck to my belly button,
sucking, nibbling—teasing. My hands grip his back while I hold a moan deep in
my throat.

He kisses my hipbone and gently slips off my panties, the
cold air nipping the most sensitive places. I expect his lips to warm the spot,
but he eases off me and unclips my bra, sliding the straps off my shoulders so,
so slowly. The light touch taunts my nerves and my sanity. His tongue runs
between my breasts and then dips back into my mouth. And that’s when his arms
scoop around me and lift me up in a tight embrace, my breasts melding into his
muscles, my limbs nearly tangled in his. My legs wrap around his waist, and I
ache to lower onto his cock. But he keeps his arms locked around my chest,
forcing me above his lap.

“Sit on your legs,” he tells me.

“But…”

He lightly kisses me and tears away while I try to go in for
another stronger one. “Sit on your legs, Lil. Or I’ll do it for you.”

That sounds better. He sees the glimmer in my eyes, and he
picks up my right leg and bends my knee so my heel is underneath my butt. As he
goes for the left, his hand skims up my thigh and to the crease of my ass.
Holy…

Okay, I’m sitting on my heels now, trying not to come before
he enters me. What if my therapist wrote that I can only climax
once
? Besides that sounding like
torture, I hope to have sex with Lo today. I will not ruin that by going crazy
with foreplay.

I’m still sitting straight up, and his body has not drifted
from mine. His heart pounds against my chest, and he cups my face in his hand.

“Breathe,” he tells me. “Just remember to breathe.”

And then with measured unhurriedness, he gradually rests my
back onto my comforter and slowly begins to slip inside of me. The position
allows for such deep entry that I cry out and grab onto his shoulder for
support.

His forehead rests near mine, and he raises my chin, kissing
me forcefully, just how I like it, before he begins to rock agonizingly slow.
Each movement mimics our heavy breaths. My parted lips brush his as he digs
deeper. I whimper, my toes already curling, my head already flying off my body.

His hand massages my breast, but his eyes never once leave
mine. Hot tears seep from the creases, the intensity and emotion driving me to
a peak so high that every time I breathe in, he breathes out, as though keeping
me alive for this moment. I melt into his slow movement, the way he disappears
inside of me, and the pace that causes my body to light on fire.

“Don’t stop…” I cry. “…Lo…” I tremble, and his arms slip
around my back again, holding me tighter.

He speeds up a little, and I feel the top of the hill. I see
us climbing together.

And then he thrusts and holds inside of me. I buck and cry
and claw at his back. My whole body pulsing, my heart thrumming—I am his.

I collapse back onto the bed, too exhausted to lift an arm
or a leg. He takes care of me, bending my knees and stretching my legs out from
the last position. He rests his hands on my kneecaps, and leans forward to kiss
me again. I taste the salt from our sweat, and I raise my hand to grab the back
of his hair, my eagerness suddenly replacing the tiredness from our emotional
sex. But he laces his fingers into mine, stopping me.

I frown. “No?”
Only
once?

He shakes his head and then kisses my temple. “I love you,”
he whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

“I love you too,” I tell him. But I do want to wrap my legs
tightly around him, giving him no choice but to harden and take me again. He
scrutinizes me closely, and he must see my impatience for round two.

His eyes narrow. “Not now.”

I bite my lip. “Are you going to tell me what’s in the
envelope?” What did my therapist restrict? The answer is killing me right now.

“Nope,” he says. “You’ll just want it even more if you know
it’s forbidden.”

I squint at him. “You’re getting too smart.”

He grins. “When it comes to you, I am.” He kisses the
outside of my lips. I love and hate when he does that. “Just so you know,” he
whispers, “I’d love nothing more than to fill you again. I’d do it a million
times a day if I could.”

“I know,” I murmur.

He brushes my sweaty hair off my face.

And I inhale a deep breath. “I’m just glad you’re home.” I
have Lo back. That’s all that should matter right now. Not a round two or a three,
but just him present, on the road to being healthy, and in love with me. That’s
all I should need.

I can’t wait to reach that place. I just hope it’s
attainable.

He relaxes next to me, and I rest my head on his chest,
listening to his heartbeat while he runs his hand through my hair. This is
nice.

I almost drift to sleep, but the chime of a cellphone snaps
my eyes open. “Whose is it?”

He reaches over onto my nightstand. “Mine.” He flips the
cell in his palm, and I crane my neck over his shoulder and see a text box.

I know your
girlfriend’s secret.
– Unknown

I shoot up, fear snapping me cold. Did I read that wrong? I
snatch the phone out of his hand, and he grabs it back.

“Lil, calm down,” he says, trying to shield the screen from
me as he types a reply.

“Who is that?” I’ve been so careful. I’ve never told anyone
I had a sex addiction other than Lo, and now Rose, Connor, and Ryke. Did they
let my secret slip to someone else?

I bite my fingernail, and Lo clasps my hand while texting
with the other. His eyes flicker to me, narrowing in disapproval.
 

When the
ping
sounds
again, I basically climb on top of Lo so he can’t hide the message. I read
quickly.

Who the fuck are you?
– Lo

Someone you hate.
– Unknown. Okay, that does not narrow anything down.
Lo’s
enemies from prep school and college are numerous and vast. It happened when he
retaliated against all the people who thought they could bully him into
submission.

Lo tries to push me off, but I have my arm wrapped around
his neck, close to choking him, so he lets me be. We’re still naked, but I’m
too frantic to be aroused.

Fuck off
– Lo

“That’s your response?” I say, wide-eyed. “You’re egging the
person on.”

“If you don’t like it, then you shouldn’t be reading my
personal texts or
spidering
me like a koala bear.”

True.

And lose out on all
the money the tabloids will pay me when I tell them Lily Calloway is a sex
addict? …Never
– Unknown

I blink. Reread the text. And gawk. No.
 

“Lil,” Lo says, shutting off his phone. “It’s okay. That’s
not going to happen. Look at me.” He holds my face in his hands, forcing my
eyes to his. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it. I’ll hire someone to
go find this asshole. I’ll pay him off more than he’ll get from the tabloids.”

He’s forgetting something. “You’re broke,” I say. His father
took away his trust fund because he dropped out of college. Lo hasn’t spoken to
him since he left for rehab. He’s alone and poor and all my money is tied up
with my family. And they don’t know about my addiction either. I’d rather not
tell them. Ever.

His features darken, remembering. “I’ll think of something
else then.”

The shame that my family will feel if they find out—the hurt
and disappointment—I can’t bear to even
think
about it. A female sex addict? A slut. A male sex addict? A hero. How much will
I tarnish my father’s company with the news? Sure, not a lot of people outside
of our social circle know my name or who I am, but could this make tabloid
headlines? Why wouldn’t it?
Lily
Calloway: daughter of the founder of Fizzle, a sex addict and a whore.

It’s juicy enough to satiate gossip columnists everywhere.

“Lo,” I say as tears threaten to fall. “I’m scared.”

He hugs me, drawing me close. “Everything is going to be
okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

I hold onto his words and repeat them over and over, hoping
that will truly be enough.

{ 2 }

LOREN HALE

I fist a bottle of cheap vodka by the neck. I can’t
think straight. My emotions are black. My heart is about there. My lengthy
stride is filled with deplorable hate. I don’t run. I walk quickly up the steep
driveway, the alcohol clenched in my hand, a million-dollar home staring right
back at me.

The door. All I see is that black door and the bronze
knocker.

I slam my fist against it, pounding. No one answers. I don’t
even hear footsteps. “Open up!” I yell. I pound again and again.
Fuck this.

I take the bottle and swing. The glass smashes. The contents
shatter, the liquid dripping down the bronze knocker, trailing the black wood
and running beneath my soles.

“Fucking hell,” Ryke curses behind me. “Was that necessary?”

The door blows open.

“Yes.”

I told Ryke to wait in the car and I mentioned how the only
way Aaron Wells would creep out of his parents’ home (like the rat that he is)
is if I started fucking with his things. Starting with that door. I was
prepared to move onto his BMW—a shard of glass to decorate the hood. Now I
don’t have to go that far.

But I’m not surprised Ryke parked on the curb and followed
me up the hill. He likes to do that—tag along and make sure I’m not about to
self-destruct. That’s usually Lily’s job, and I’d choose her over him any day
of the week. But not right now.

Not when an old prep school prick stands five feet in front
of me.

He has dirty blond hair (practically brown), blue eyes and
that smug Dalton Academy smile that I remember so well. He’s the first guy that
came to mind when we received the texts. What I did to him back in prep school
was fucked up, but our rivalry should have never included Lily. And he
shouldn’t be tormenting her now.

Aaron appraises the shattered glass. “I shouldn’t be
surprised. The stench smells exactly like you.”

Ryke is about to take a step forward, and I grab his arm to
stop him. We’re not punching Wells, as much as I’d like to. This is not that
type of fight.

“I’ve met you before,” Aaron says, scanning Ryke from his
dark hair to his lean muscles that nearly match mine. “Where was that?” He feigns
confusion.

Ryke glares. “I should have smashed your fucking face in.”

When I heard what happened while I was gone, I really wish
Ryke had.

Lily’s mother paired her with Aaron at a company party, and
he threatened Lily the entire time, basically telling her that he’d screw with
her to get to me. (Why? Because he hates me. There’s no other reason for that.)
And I just had to hear the news in rehab without doing a goddamn thing. Now
that he’s moved to Level 2—somehow learning about her sex addiction and wanting
money—I’m here, ready to fuck with him the same way he fucked with her.

“Oh right,” Aaron says without missing a beat, “I was Lily’s
date
to a Fizzle event, and you
showed up like her white knight while this one was in rehab.” He cocks his head
at me. And I internally grimace at the reminder that Ryke was there for Lily
these past three months. I wasn’t.

But this, right here, is why I know Aaron sent those texts.
He’s recently made it clear that he wants to toy with me by going through Lily,
stirring up our old rivalry.

Two can play this game.

“Thanks for escorting her,” I tell him. “She said it was
painful staring at your ugly face all night, but I think we all know you
weren’t there to please her.” My double-edged words even make me cringe. I
don’t like to think about any other guy
pleasing
Lily. Not before we became a real couple. And definitely not after.

My heart beats so fucking fast. I take a step towards him,
the glass crunching.

He stiffens, and I wait to see if he has the balls to shove
me back.

Nope. I take my chances and squeeze between the door frame
and his immobilized body. He stares right at me. Eye for eye. And I invite
myself inside.

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed,” I say, walking further in.
I stare at the high vaulted ceilings and the marble floors. Ryke follows me,
and Aaron closes the door behind us, his lip curled. I point at the cellar door
by the kitchen. “Should we crack open a bottle of wine?”

His eyes flash murderously.

“Maybe not then.”

Ryke hangs back, but if Aaron even raises a fist, he’d be
right by my side. That kind of support feels good. I’ve never once had that.
Growing up, I always took the beating or found an escape. Fights were always me
against a million. No one was in my corner. I wouldn’t let Lily be involved,
and if she was, it was guys like Aaron that deviously pulled her in, knowing
she was my best friend.

They’d fuck with her just to reach me.

And that’s not happening.

Aaron watches me closely.

“Who’s home?” I ask him.

“No one,” he says, his face blank.

I don’t believe him. “Your parents are in Barbados for the
weekend.” Thank you Connor Cobalt with your great tech-savvy skills.

Aaron lets out a dry laugh. “Did your father find that out
for you?”

Oh yeah, Ryke wasn’t the one to deter Aaron at the Fizzle
event. While Lily was trying to dodge Aaron all night, she told me that my father
came in and saved her. Leave it to my dad to inject debilitating fear into
someone. Lily said Aaron fled the event after that. Never made a peep again. “My
father didn’t help me figure out who’s at your house,” I say, “but I should
call him up, thank him for molesting you with his words.”

“You’re a sick fucking guy,” Aaron says, “you know that?”

I’m just getting
started.
“Julie!” I shout. “Julie, come out, come out!”

Ryke wavers behind me. He’s seen me like this. I used to
attack him. I still do. Plenty of times. But this is different. I am fueled by
hate so deep that I can barely breathe.

Aaron glances hesitantly at the balcony above the double
staircase. His house was used for debutant balls just for that entrance.

“JULIE!” I yell.

Aaron steps towards me, his hand leveled out as though he
comes in peace. “Hey, I told your father I’d lay off Lily, okay? We made a deal.
I stuck to it. I haven’t done shit to her since the event.”

“JULIE!”

The door clatters upstairs.

Aaron talks faster, “I was
pissed
that night. I applied for a job, and they denied my
application. I didn’t even get an interview because of you.”

“You’re going to blame me?” I glare. He should. With my
father’s help, I called up his dream college and had the Dean take a second
look at Wells. Next thing you know, he’s going to his safety school, not even
waitlisted to the place he thought he had in the bag. We rerouted his future.

“I can’t compete with Ivy grads. Now I have to work for my
father.”

A pair of feet pads across the second story.

“Don’t do this,” Aaron sneers, but he’s pleading. “I only
scared Lily a little. I wasn’t going to force her or anything. I promise you.”
He’s never had sex with her, thank God. If I ran into one of her old hookups, I
don’t know what my reaction would be.

“That’s what you always do, isn’t it?” I say. “You scare
her. Well, grab a membership card Aaron. You’re about to be fucking terrified.”

Right on cue, a girl with the same dirty blonde hair grips
the balcony railing, leaning over to stare at me from below. “Loren Hale.”

“Julie, go back to your room,” Aaron tells her, fear spiking
his voice.

“What am I, four?” she snaps. She wears dark lipstick and a
shit ton of eyeliner. She’s his fraternal twin. And a girl I may have fucked
once or twice when I was sixteen, depending on the day. The difference between
Lily and me is that I actually dated Julie (for two whole weeks) at a time when
I wasn’t in a fake relationship with my best friend.
 

Lily, however, fucks once and then moves on.

And after a long, long struggle, I have finally become her
only exception.

“Hi Julie,” I say. “Can you come here for a second?”

“What’s this about?” She looks between Aaron and me, taking in
Aaron’s stiff posture. “Aaron, it’s been years since I was with Lo. Seriously,
get over it.” But she’s wrong. Our fight didn’t start because I dated her. She
was just a bullet in my gun. One of the things I used to hurt him. Fucking his
sister—that’s the easiest trick in the book. Something my father would have
done. Something that I hate I did. I can barely even stomach the memory.

I just thank God that Julie is as deplorable as her brother
and me. She used me just as much as I used her—wanting to get back at her
ex-boyfriend. He didn’t care as much as she wished he did.

“Julie,” I snap. “Come here. Now.” I’m not fucking around.
Well, I kind of am.
But you should see
Aaron’s face. He’s about to shit his pants. He has no idea what I’m going to
do. Hell, I have no idea what I plan to do either. I just know that his family
is his weak spot the same way Lily is mine.

She descends the stairs, barefoot. Her curious gaze lingers
on Ryke. “You’re hot.”

“Julie,” Aaron cringes.

“Can I see your phone?” I ask Aaron. Now that Julie is here,
he’ll be more willing to hand it over. She’s a distraction and a warning.

His brows furrow. “What for?”

“Just give it to me.”

Julie sighs heavily like this is boring her. “Just give him
the phone, Aaron.”

Aaron slips his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me.
I scroll through his previous texts, trying to find my number stored somewhere.
But the entire thing is blank.

“Why’d you delete all of your texts?”

“I always do,” Aaron says. “My mother likes to check my
phone.”

“You’re twenty-two.” He’s not a teenager needing approval to
sleep over a friend’s house. He’s an adult.

“Yeah? That hasn’t changed her from being nosy.”

I still don’t believe him. I can’t.

“What’s your name?” Julie asks Ryke, biting her lip as
though that’ll drop him to his knees.

“Ryke,” he says.

“Ryke, how do you know Loren?”

“He’s my brother.”

Her brows shoot up. “Wow, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Neither did I,” I say, shoving the phone back in Aaron’s
palm. “Did you use a fake phone? A disposable?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Aaron says, his eyes
wide. “I didn’t do shit to you or Lily. I told you, your father—”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, not really sure what I believe.
He could be lying. Out of everyone I know, he’s the most likely to threaten
Lily. If I can end it all right here, right now, that’s what I’ll do.

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Aaron screams.

Ryke steps forward to my defense. “Says the guy who spent
two hours chasing a girl around a ballroom, terrifying her beyond fucking
words.”

“Wow,” Julie says, “you’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Julie!” Aaron shouts. “Leave, now. Get the fuck out of
here.”

Julie rolls her eyes and drops off the tips of her feet like
Aaron popped her entertainment. She nods to me. “It’s nice to see you again,
Loren. I’m sorry my brother can’t get over our relationship.”

“Yeah, he has trouble letting things go.” If I was him, I
would still be full of resentment. I don’t blame him at all. I just hate that I
drove him to this place—to a point where he could attack Lily while I was at
rehab. I was such a stupid fucking kid. I still am sometimes.

I could be going about this the wrong way right now. But it’s
the only thing I know how to do. And it works. I use my words. Threaten the guy
who’s threatening me.

Julie walks off to the kitchen, in plain view. Mostly so
Ryke can see her bend low as she grabs a pan from the cupboard. She looks back
to make sure he caught sight of her ass. He didn’t. His eyes haven’t left
Aaron. But as I watch her, Aaron is seconds from imploding, dropping on his
knees, and giving me what I want. I can’t take credit for that. I think,
partly, my father’s previous threats have already sunk in.

“Where’s your disposable phone?” I ask again.

Ryke puts his hand on my arm, and he whispers, “I don’t
think he did it.”

I don’t want to believe that. Because then I’ll be clueless.

I’ll have no idea who else it could be.

Aaron holds up his hands in defense. “I don’t know what
happened, but I’m not the only guy who hates you, Loren. So whatever is going
on, maybe you should think about who else you pissed off all these years. I
can’t imagine college was that pleasant for you.”

Yeah…I may be fucked.

I nod to myself. But if he is the guy who sent me those
texts, I’m not just going to leave here without insurance that he won’t do
something again. I have to have the last word. So I lean in and I say, “If you
scare my girlfriend again, you’ll wish all you had to worry about was working
for your fucking daddy.” My eyes flicker to Julie once. “And you should start
eating your sister’s makeup. Your insides are fucking ugly.”

He could easily say
as
are yours.
But nothing comes from his mouth. He’s solidified in a mixture
of hate and fear—emotions that are floating all around his house right now.

I don’t wait for him to reanimate.

I leave.

And on the way to the car, Ryke says, “You didn’t tell me
you’d be fucking with his sister.”

“Does it matter?”

He stares straight ahead, his eyes dark.

“She was objectifying you, Ryke,” I tell him. “She was two
seconds from pulling down your pants and climbing on your dick.”

“Like Lily?” he snaps back.

“Fuck.
You
.” I
swing open the car door. It’s not the same thing. Lily—she’s my best friend.
I’m not a conquest of hers. If that were true, she wouldn’t still be with me. I
wouldn’t be able to satisfy her for so long.

“Sorry,” Ryke barely apologizes, his harsh tone never
softening. “I just don’t want to see another girl get caught in the fucking crossfires
of your feuds.”