Addicted After All (7 page)

Her brows pinch. “That’s not very nice.”

I lean close, my lips a breath from hers. “You must be the last one to hear then…I’m very…very…
mean
.” I kiss her so strongly that her head rises off the pillow when I draw back, inhaling her body.

Then I grind right against her. She’s so tight around me that I can hardly pull my shaft back and ram in. I just dig forward, now on top of her instead of side-to-side, and I taste her with my tongue, my lips stinging and swelling above hers. The whole bed rocks with my movement, the wooden posts thudding into the wall.

She’s small beneath me, like a ravenous tiny girl, aching for carnal things. I’m aware that she’s carrying our child, and it only heightens the sensations that heat me.

Two more thrusts and Lily moans into the pillow again.

I rest my forearm on the bed, an edged noise slicing my throat. I hold still in her warmth, pooling my mind with exhaustion. We’re both caked with sweat, our hair doused like we’ve been running a marathon.

We’re back on our sides, and I inspect her features.

Even if she doesn’t say it, her eyes do.
Again.

No.

This has to be it. I kiss her lips lightly. “No more.”

She nods, understanding, but her limbs quake like they long for another round. “I’ll go to sleep this time. I
promise
.” She nods determinedly.

My lips brush her temple, and I stroke her damp hair.

It’s going to be a long night.

{ 7 }

LILY CALLOWAY

My orgasms are out of this world amazing.

Which is the best and worst thing. I just want more and more. “I think it’s like you tasting the most delicious whiskey ever,” I tell Lo while he pulls me onto my feet, the morning after we’ve fooled around for a long, long time with naps in between.

I’m sore all over, and I can barely even shuffle forward without feeling an ache in my joints and my sweet spot.

I won’t let my mind believe this is a regression, not when it’s a symptom of pregnancy: great orgasms and higher libido. What’s not normal: the uncontrollable, compulsive beast inside of me. But the Lily beast is at bay, hibernating in a cozy cave. I’m sure of it. She’s not ever supposed to come out again. She’s
very
aware of this.

In black boxer-briefs, Lo’s amber eyes descend from my head to my toes. I stand completely naked, my skin reddening the more he grazes me with his sight. “Are you drunk off me, love?” he asks, those intoxicating eyes flitting back to mine.

Maybe.
“Just not addicted.” My metaphor was a bad one, I realize.

“Good.” He tugs me to him and playfully bites my neck. “You bath. Me shower.” And then he kisses my nose.

I frown. “Why can’t we both take a bath or shower together?”

He suddenly lifts me in his arms, a cradle. “Because,” he says with a playful tone while he walks, “boys and girls don’t bathe together. Everyone knows this, Lil.”

“We broke that rule a long time ago,” I mention. He sets my butt on the cold edge of the white marbled tub, and he turns the silver handles to the bath.

He tests the temperature. “Did we?” he feigns confusion and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t remember bathing with a Lily Calloway.” He glances back down at me. “What does she look like?”

How do I even describe my features? “Brown hair…” I have a hard time concentrating when Lo’s gaze drops to my breasts that have grown much larger in the past weeks. “Really tiny boobs, a bony butt—”

“You mean the most
adorable
ass, the cutest boobs and the prettiest brown hair?” He mockingly gasps and says, “I do know her.” He snaps his fingers. “She does this thing…” He lets out a trained, playful laugh.

I smile. “What thing?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s between me and her, an inside…” He trails off as he looks back at me, his face sharpening a little. “Put your feet in the bath, love.”

I realize that I’m straddling the edge of the tub. Oh my God. Am I grinding? I lick my dry lips and set my soles into the warm water. To erase this horrible awkwardness that I’ve caused, I just say, “I understand inside things,” I say. “Not in like a perverted way.” Oh my God.

I climb into the half-full tub so I can drown beneath the water and never surface. As soon as I plop down, Lo must sense my plan because he laces his fingers with mine, holding me upright. I reach for the bath foam ball in a basket of beauty products that Rose set out for me.

“She does this thing…” Lo continues, his voice lighter. “…with her nose.”

I frown. “What?”

“There it is,” Lo smiles. And then he pretends to be shocked. “Jesus Christ, you’re her!”

I splash water at him but it hits the side of the tub pathetically, not high enough. “What do I do?”

“You crinkle your nose,” he tells me, “when you’re thinking hard or when you’re confused.”

My mouth falls. No. “I have the ‘who farted face?’ All the time?” I groan and sink into the water. It’s betrayed me, barely rising to cover my breasts. Spigot, work faster! I need a water shield to hide under.

“It’s painfully adorable,” Lo assures me. He rises to his feet and then drops his boxer-briefs. “Eyes up here, Lil.”

Sure. I focus my gaze on his face and not his beautiful package down below. I expect him to share the water with me, but instead, he heads to the shower. “Don’t forget to wash your pretty hair.”

“You’re still not going to share a bath with me?”

“Not this morning.”

“I promise I won’t touch you,” I say, feeling good about this proclamation. I can withstand Loren Hale. I know I can.

“It’s more than tempting. Trust me, Lil.” He opens the glass door and disappears inside the tiled shower. Once the water gushes, I can’t hear him any longer.

Am I that bad that he can’t take a bath with me?

I drop my hands in the water and clench my thighs together, the soreness still present. I crave touch, I do. A part of me wonders if I can clean with a washcloth down there without rubbing my clit.

I can. I find a purple washcloth and do a quick little rub and then toss it aside, not allowing myself to go further. See, I’m not that bad.

I lower into the water as it rises, and after I dunk my head and scrub some shampoo, I relax a little, and drowsiness takes over.

Very gently, I begin to fall asleep.

{ 8 }

LILY CALLOWAY

Today is a big day. Not delivery day. I’m many months away from that. But it’s the one where we find out what Jonathan Hale wants.

I send the Superheroes & Scones store manager, Maya, a quick text about purchasing the new editions of
Deadpool
while I wait for everyone to meet me at the kitchen bar. I suppose I’m early, the oven clock reading 6:30 p.m. Lo should be back from Halway Comics in a few minutes, breezing through the door.

“You don’t have to come, Dais,” Ryke says adamantly, his rough voice echoing from the living room. I crane my neck to try to spot them, but they’re blocked by the wall.

“Your dad said it’s mandatory,” she tells him, “and I want to be there.”

“
I
don’t want you to be there because you’re in fucking pain right now.”

What?
I spring off the barstool and rush into the living room.

“I feel
amazing
,” she says the word like she could run five miles.

 I step into the room as Ryke tells her, “I would believe you more if you weren’t doubled over, Calloway.”

Daisy is hunching, her hand on the back of the couch like a support. Her cast hangs by her side and her head dips down low. “I’m standing upright,” she says. “I’m taller than tall.” And then I notice her casted wrist curving to her stomach like her abdomen hurts.

“Fuck this.” Ryke picks her up and cradles her easily in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Ryke spins towards me, and Daisy turns her head into his chest, clearly wincing in pain now. “Cramps,” Ryke answers.

I frown, and I feel myself crinkling my nose like Lo mentioned. I try to wipe away that look.

“Are you about to fucking sneeze or something?” he asks in that mean, blunt way.

“No.” I flush. “I’m just confused…” I scan Daisy who fists Ryke’s plain white tee, her discomfort clear.

“I don’t see how this is fucking confusing,” Ryke deadpans.

Afraid to embarrass Daisy, I hesitate delving into the subject, but he started it so…maybe he already knows everything. She seems to be open with him since they’re dating anyway. “Daisy?” I say softly.

“Huh?” She won’t remove her face from his shoulder, refusing to let me see her in pain.

“This is kind of long for a period, isn’t it?” I try to count the days since she said she started. It has to be about nine.

Ryke stiffens but he stares down at Daisy, not speaking for her.

“It’s been awhile,” she says slowly. “But I’ve had ten day periods before…you know, I have this theory…” She grimaces. “…that it’s my body’s way of saying it loves me.” She almost climbs higher onto Ryke’s body as the cramps most likely return with a vengeance. Ryke wears this hard concern that’s nothing short of masculine and kind of scary and cute at the same time.

For her, not me. Just to be clear.

And then it clicks. “You still have irregular periods?” She used to have them during her extreme dieting phases. I blame modeling.

“They’re not as bad as they were,” Daisy says.

Ryke doesn’t seem as optimistic. “Four months of nothing and then this?” he tells her. “I can’t imagine what they were like before you met me.”

“Heaven,” she says sarcastically.

“And now you’re in hell, fucking around with me.”

She laughs, but it dies quickly.

“Do you need Midol?” I ask.

“I took some already. It’ll pass if I don’t think about it. That’s what Rose always says about cramps.”

Mental power. That’s a smart person trait that I’m not so sure I have. With bad cramps, I just curl on my side, cling to Lo and have a Marvel movie marathon. I usually can’t concentrate on the films, just focused on the clenching in my abdomen.

I have faith that Daisy can do it though. She’s strong.

Shoes suddenly clap against the hardwood, and Lo appears from the kitchen, entering through the backdoor. “Hey,” he says to us, first scrutinizing my wellbeing, then his brother and Daisy. “We should leave now in case there’s traffic.”

I spot his nervous anxiety from his locked shoulders and cut jawline. His hand even shakes a little, but he balls it into a fist when he catches me watching.

Lo approaches me while Ryke carries Daisy out the front door, still cradling her. “I’m fine, Lil,” Lo assures me. “Come on.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“How was work?” I ask.

“Boring,” he says, rubbing his lips, another giveaway that he’s anxious. I reach out and hold his hand. His shoulders slacken by a fraction.

He shuts the front door behind him. “What’s up with Daisy?”

“Cramps,” I say.

His face scrunches like,
what?

“I questioned it too, but her periods are still out of whack.” What’s strange is that discussing Daisy’s periods has been the norm for some time. I wonder if she realizes that Rose spreads this news like wildfire, and it becomes a topic among the guys too. I hope she’s not that embarrassed by it.

We descend the short stairs and walk to Lo’s matte black Audi, parked by the fir tree. Growing up, Lo always bummed rides with me, but when he first started Halway Comics, Jonathan removed the monthly cap on Lo’s trust fund so he had enough to buy a car.

Ryke always tries to drive the Audi when he’s with Lo. Really, his love and obsession with the two-door car is grounds for cheating on his silver Infinity.

This time, instead of asking Lo to drive, Ryke climbs in the backseat with Daisy, ahead of us. He’d rather take care of his girlfriend than drive a cool car. If I was allowed on social media, I’d document this moment and upload it, literal cute
proof
that Raisy is meant to be. 

Say that was me in Daisy’s position, Ryke wouldn’t crawl in the backseat on my account. In fact, he’d
beg
Lo to drive so he didn’t have to withstand my moaning and groaning. Our families’ publicists can’t see how useful this evidence is against the three-way rumors. 

Lo lets out a short, amused laugh. “Ryke has to be dying.”

I have a feeling this isn’t about the car. Since Daisy is on her period, Ryke probably hasn’t had any action in a while. “He went
four months
without sex,” I remind Lo. “This has to be easy.”

“So easy that he’s most likely jerking off, counting the days until he can get laid again.”

I don’t know.

Ryke is a guy, but for some reason, I got the impression that he’d rather Daisy have periods than none at all.

“You know that I can’t have sex for weeks after I give birth, right?” I suddenly blurt out. I never thought it’d be an issue with him, but I forgot that he has needs—ones I’ve built to extreme levels. Ryke even said it: Lo fucks the most out of all the guys.

And I’m going to take that away from him.

Lo says quickly, “I know, Lil.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and guides me towards the Audi. And then his lips nestle against my neck and he groans, a not so good one. “Your hair smells like Rose.”

“I think it’s the stuff in the basket she gave me.”

He kisses my temple. “I’m burning that shit.”

“It was a present.”

He grimaces. “Fine, whatever. It can stay as decoration.”

I crane my neck over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, and I notice his muscles have unwound a lot more.

“Lily.”

“Yeah?”

“Move faster.” He pats my ass, and my breath hitches. I’ve stopped about ten feet from his car. With this incentive, I quicken my pace. And the reality of where we’re headed sets in.

To Jonathan Hale’s we go.

* * *

“He changed the location to the country club,” Lo tells us as he drives out of our gated neighborhood. Oh. So to Jonathan Hale’s we don’t go?