Addicted After All (4 page)

“Thanks for telling us your feelings,” I say to Daisy with a smile.

She smiles back.

I would’ve liked either one she chose, but this one is a very good option. I’m getting Loren Hale tonight.

My most favorite thing in the world.

{ 4 }

LILY CALLOWAY

The champagne-colored comforter bunches at the bottom of the king-sized bed, and neither of us wastes energy to tug them up. A thin layer of sweat coats my body, and despite the faint exhaustion swirling around me, I crave a repeat.

My fluctuating hormones have not helped my cause. At all.

Lo tilts his head on the dark red pillow beside me, lying on his back as his chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. Of all the places we’ve lived together, this room is the most spacious and suits our personalities the best. A black chandelier with candles (instead of glitzy diamonds) hangs above our bed. Two black armoires sit beside a comfy suede couch and dark purple chairs, red throw pillows and a champagne rug in addition. It actually feels like home.

I squirm, clamping my thighs together, while I watch Lo’s breathing, and I ache to touch his abs.

He licks his lips and says, “Not good enough, I take it.”

“What?” I squeak out, my eyes wide. It was
very
good. Stellar. Worthy of rocket ships and trips to the moon.

Dimples dot his cheeks as he tries hard not to smile. “You have that look.”

“What look?” I turn to face him fully, my hip on the soft mattress.

“The one that says you want me to fuck you again,” he tells me, so casually. But it has a way of lighting up my core with newfound eagerness and desire.

“Oh…
that
look.” I try to clear my face. It barely works. I’m staring too hard at his lips, the soft pink ones that beg to be kissed. “You know just because I
may
want to do it again, it doesn’t mean that the other time wasn’t good enough.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m just teasing you, Lil.” He draws me closer to his waist, and I think, maybe, his hand will descend to the very wet spot between my legs. Instead, his palm slides from my collar to my stomach.

I’m partly grateful that I’m not that big and round yet. Some positions will be harder during sex, and yeah, it’s a selfish thought, one that I have been trying really hard to overcome. Because in about five months, I’ll need to be completely selfless—or at least have a somewhat controlled sex life.

“Have you felt anything yet?” he asks softly, his fingers circling my belly.

I don’t know if he’s trying to distract me from sex or if this is a legitimate question. When he grabs the crumpled sheet by his ankles and pulls it over our waists, hiding his cock from view, I think it’s probably the former. But I answer anyway.

“No,” I whisper. “Not that I’m looking forward to it. It’s going to be weird.” I’ll like knowing my baby is alive and active, but just the idea of something alive and moving inside of
me
has a certain creep factor. Remembering that the baby is a part of Lo lessens some of that.

“You’d tell me though, right?” he asks, his eyes flitting to mine. “I want to know when it happens for the first time.”

It’s my turn to try and contain my smile. Lo has been supportive since he found out that I was pregnant. The fact that he
never
wanted children—that this baby was an unwelcome surprise rather than a joyous one—has been shelved somewhere else. Somewhere too far to ever reach again.

“I tell you everything,” I remind him. “Like how I dumped my goldfish crackers in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Which was so good but so gross.” It’s my favorite snack.

“It was disgusting,” Lo confirms. He props his elbow on the bed, his fingers lightly brushing my hipbone.

I close my eyes, practically melting, and his hand drifts back up to my collar.
So mean.
When I open them again, I catch sight of the white envelope on the nightstand. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait.”

Lo follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Rose will kill you.”

He’s right. A few weeks ago, she was obsessively eating oranges while I dunked my gold fish in an ocean of ice cream. As she ripped the peel off, she said that she wanted to be present when I learned the sex of my baby.

She was intimidatingly scary, but I would’ve said yes, even if she was all smiles. So after my ultrasound, we told the doctor to seal the news in an envelope. There it rests. I think I can wait until the morning.

“What do you want?” I ask him a question that we’ve both dodged for some time. “A boy or a girl?” Deep down, I know my answer, even if I wish I could be neutral and long for a boy and a girl equally.

“It shouldn’t matter,” he evades, his amber eyes searching mine, looking for my response to the same question. It’s okay. I can admit it first.

I open my mouth to say the words, and they lodge in my throat, barred from exit by internal fears.

“Lily?” he murmurs, leaning over my small frame and combing the hair from my face. He’s halfway on my body, semi-cloaked in Loren Hale.

I tangle my legs with his.
Better.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells me.

I think I need to though. I’d rather let these things out. “If we have a girl…” I breathe softly. “…there’s a good chance she’ll be ridiculed.” Her mom will be a sex addict. It’ll be like Daisy, pegged as one just for being my sister. I can imagine my daughter having a bumpier, rockier road. And Daisy’s is already horrible enough.

Lo finds my hands and intertwines our fingers together. My leg brushes his thigh, nearing his crotch, and my pulse speeds up a fraction. His hand lowers back to my hipbone, holding me still. And I relax in this position, the heat of his body warming me. It’s effortless. Our normal.

“Maybe in the future people won’t judge girls differently than guys,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I’m staring at his lips again, but I focus on his words.

He tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind my ear. “When girls sleep around—maybe they won’t be called sluts and whores. Maybe they’ll be treated like guys. Then no one will care about your addiction, not enough to harass Luna.”

Luna.
My heart palpitates at the name we chose if we have a girl.

The world he described seems imaginary. One made from fiction. Not a future.

“Doubtful,” I whisper.

He stares down into me and says, “I’ll keep her safe.”

My eyes well with tears while my lips pull high. “Against the world, Loren Hale?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Against the world, Lily Calloway. I’m familiar with that battle.”

I kiss him, lifting my head off the pillow to meet those pink lips.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding sensually against mine before drawing away. “So you want a boy then?” he asks, figuring me out. I think I could raise a boy better than a girl. I think he’d like me as a mom. At least, I hope so.

“Yeah,” I say in a whisper, searching Lo’s eyes now for his answer. “Do you want a boy?”

“If you want one, then yeah,” he nods.

I punch him lightly in the arm. “That’s not an answer,” I refute. “Stop placating me.”

His amber eyes narrow and he blinks a couple times like I’m no longer Lily but some alien girl. “Since when do you use the word
placate?
”

“Since Connor gave me that thesaurus for Christmas.” Rose said it was a rude present, but he took the time to scribble notes in the margins. Like the word
bastard
, he wrote:
the best looking one is in your arms.
A literal truth. I run my hands along Lo’s shoulder muscles. “He highlighted all the cool words for me.” 

Lo lets out a short laugh. “Connor’s definition of cool isn’t the same one you and I follow.”

“Oh.” That’s probably true too.

He grins, and then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me before I realize what’s happened. A surprise kiss. One that oozes my bones and rouses my soul. His lips suck gently on my bottom one, and his hand tangles in my brown hair. I moan into the next kiss, especially as his thumb rubs the soft spot on my neck.

He smiles just before his tongue flicks into my mouth.

My pelvis bucks up into his, and my legs spread on either side of him.
Yes.

Breathless, he says, “That’s what placating you looks like.”

Oh.

I flush. “Can you do it again?” I wonder.

“You told me to stop,” he teases. “My wish is your command.”

I rap my fist on his shoulder once more, but his smile only intensifies, really dimpling his cheeks this time. And then he suddenly says, “I want a girl.” His smile vanishes with his words. I want it to return.

“Why?” I whisper. I think I know.

“I don’t want our kid to turn out like me,” he says, the angles of his face more tortured looking than before. “Spiteful and bitter—a complete fucking
asshole
.” He shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “I want him to be like you.”

“A sex addict?” I frown.

“No, Lil,” he murmurs. “Kind-hearted, loving…introspective.”

“I’m not introspective.”

He kisses the outside of my lips. “Yes you are, love.” He’s only a breath away from me as he adds, “I just can’t make the same mistakes as my father did with me.”

“You’re not him,” I say softly. Jonathan alienated one son and drove the other down a dark, dark path. Lo would never do that.

He kisses my temple and then slides out from under the sheet. “I’m going to take a shower.” As he climbs off the bed, buck naked, he gives me a look that says
join me.

My face brightens, and I’m about to run into his arms when my phone pings. Lo’s phone vibrates on the nightstand too. He checks his screen while I check mine.

7:30 p.m. at my house on Wednesday. This is mandatory, so if you’re considering cancelling, think again.
– Jonathan

I look at who he group texted: Daisy, Ryke, Lo and me. He’s reminding us about the “meeting” he’s called. “It looks like just a dinner,” I say, though my stomach flips.

“Yeah.” Lo’s voice isn’t as optimistic.

I’m trying to prepare for the worst—but at this point, I’m not even sure what the worst is anymore.

{ 5 }

LOREN HALE

Heavy sleet and snow confines us indoors for the morning, but even though we can’t run outside, I stop by my brother’s room to see if he’ll workout with Connor and me. My muscles pull taut, my chest bound tight, and I need to release this tension before I open the envelope and especially before we meet with our father.

When I try to turn the doorknob, it clicks locked. I sigh agitatedly. I’ve already tried texting him, and he didn’t answer. Fuck it, I’m waking him up. I bang my fist on the white wood and wait for a response.

After a few seconds of hushed noises and footsteps, the door swings open. Ryke holds the frame with a rigid arm while I catch Daisy skirting into her bathroom behind him.

“What?” Ryke asks curtly, only wearing drawstring pants. It’s not his lack of clothes or even Daisy sleeping with him that I have a problem with. Those facts I’ve accepted, no matter how weird it is at times.

It’s his apparent exhaustion that bothers me. Even beneath his hardened, dark glare, I can spot how tired he is by his eyes. “Did you sleep last night?”

The shower squeaks through the wall. Ryke shakes his head and speaks quietly. “She was terrified, and nothing I did helped…” He runs his fingers through his thick hair.

My older brother likes to insert himself in any situation, to fix it, so this is probably killing him. “She has to go to the meeting Wednesday,” I remind him. “I know it fucking sucks, but we need to play by his rules.” I don’t want to find out what happens if one of us cancels on our dad. And I also fear pushing him to drink. He’s been sober for this long—and he’s different now. Sure he’s still an asshole, not exactly soft, but he filters a lot of his comments.

It’s easier to be around him.

Ryke pinches his eyes and then rubs them wearily. “I’m going to call Daisy’s therapist and hopefully she’ll see her before the meeting.”

I listen to the shower water splash against the tiles, and a thought barrels into me, one that twists my face in a cringe. But I put it out there anyway. “Have you tried just having sex?” I ask.

Ryke glowers and his hand tightens on the door frame like he’s going to slam it in my face.

I elaborate with an edged voice. “I’m not saying it’s a solution, but she’ll be exhausted if you go at it long enough and then she’ll fall asleep.”

“Is that what you do with Lily?” he asks tensely.

I grind my teeth. He’s not spinning this back on me. “It’s one fucking time, you asshole,” I tell him, “Daisy won’t be addicted to it. So go fuck her, so she can shut off her brain and sleep.”

Ryke’s shoulders slacken. “She’s on her period, and she’s not excited about the idea of being fucked right now.”

Jesus Christ. I rub my mouth and try not to think hard about who we’re discussing. “She’s in the damn shower. Stop talking to me and go have sex. And when you’re done, I’ll be at the gym with Connor.” I start walking backwards as I talk. “Come with her, don’t come with us, and I’ll see you later.”

He flips me off, but I catch him nod as he shuts his door.

I descend the stairs and round into the kitchen—twice as large as the one in the Princeton house. The expensive silver appliances, granite countertops, gray walls, and leather bar stools are all thanks to some interior designer Rose hired. Every time I notice the mansion décor, modern and classic and more adult than I am, I realize that I’m supposed to have my shit together.

That I’m no longer in my college years.

I’m twenty-four.
Time to grow up.

I’m trying.

God, I’m trying.

By the marbled sink, Connor grabs a blue mug from a glass cabinet. “Morning, darling,” he says. He’s dressed in Nike athletic pants and a navy blue T-shirt, so I don’t have to ask if he’s still on for the gym.