Текст книги "Addicted for Now"
Автор книги: Becca Ritchie
Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 31 страниц)
{ 21 }
LILY CALLOWAY
5 Sex Toys Perfect for Traveling. My little bullet vibrator survived the bellhop-impersonator-thief since I stowed it in my purse, but there’s a slim chance I’ll be using it anytime this week.
Vibrating panties even made it on the list. I have those too (back home), but I never actually tried them out. I flip the page and land on the sex tips from guys. Some make me laugh, while others are actually helpful. I skim the list and smile at the advice from Brett, 24. “Wet your lips. Then tell me you can’t wait to taste me.” Thank you, Brett for making it seem like girls have to give blow jobs to please a guy. Not true. In fact, if I didn’t like giving Lo head, I wouldn’t do it.
“Hey.”
I jump a little at the voice and press the magazine to my chest, flushing in a rosy shade. I relax when I see it’s Lo, dripping wet in his swimsuit. I try to focus on his face and not his body, but even the striking jaw and dark, wet hair looks extremely sexy right now.
I lick my bottom lip and say, “I can’t wait to taste you.”
He narrows his eyes, not amused, and grabs the magazine from me. My shoulders slacken as his eyes flit over the page. They roll dramatically when he reads Brett’s advice. Lo folds the magazine in his hand and sits down on the foot of the lounge chair. I realize I’m probably not going to be getting that Cosmo back.
“It’s not porn,” I defend immediately.
“You still shouldn’t read it. You’re trying to go a day without thinking about sex, and flipping through a magazine that highlights the ten best ways to go down on someone is not going to help.”
I just nod, and then my eyes drift to Ryke who walks back towards our area with an aluminum foil wrapped taco. He licks his fingers, so I assume he already ate one on the way here. Melissa says something, and she leaves his side, heading back to the hotel room. It’s strange that she would ditch him when she’s made it clear that he’s the only reason she’s withstanding the rest of us.
My gaze drifts to the bright pink mankini that leaves nothing to the imagination. He fills it out too well. One wrong move and everything may just pop out. “That kind of backfired, didn’t it?” I say to Lo with a smile.
Lo places a hand on my bare calf, which sends tingles down my spine. Even the simplest touch right now, I covet. “How was I supposed to know he was so comfortable in a banana hammock?” Lo says loud enough for Ryke to hear when he approaches. “We’ve only been brothers for four months.”
“We’ve been brothers for twenty-one years,” Ryke refutes. He sits on the pool ledge beside our chair, sticking his feet into the water. “You only knew about me four months ago.”
“And that’s supposed to make me like you more?”
Ryke flashes a dry smile and nods to the magazine in Lo’s hand. “Beach reading?”
Lo tosses the magazine on the wet cement beside Ryke. “Here, maybe you can learn how to go down on Melissa. She seems incredibly displeased by you.”
“I can lick her just fine. That’s not why she’s mad.”
I tear my eyes off the hand that Lo keeps planted on my ankle. I would like, dearly, for his fingers to run up to my thigh. Especially after all this sex talk. “Why is she upset?”
“Same reason you are.”
“She’s a sex addict too?” I say brightly. I’m not the only one out there. Wow, that feels good.
“No, she’s just a normal horny girl.”
Oh, damn. My shoulders droop.
Lo starts rubbing my calf. That feels even better. I sink against the back of the chair, relaxing. Lo scrolls through his cell phone for a moment, and I watch as Ryke motions to Daisy in the pool without calling her name.
She swims over to his spot by the pool wall, and since he sits out of the water, he towers above her and hunches slightly to look down at Daisy. He holds the taco out to her.
She sets her empty cup beside the sopping magazine. “I thought you said I could only have a taco if I went with you.”
“I’m making an exception.”
Her eyes flicker between the taco and Ryke, and I don’t like where this is headed. It reminds me of the time where he tempted her with a piece of chocolate cake. She ate it, but only after a string of inappropriate events. Lo didn’t see that. And he’s too focused on his phone to look up and watch Daisy and Ryke.
But maybe…maybe it’s all in my head. I mean, my thoughts circumnavigate to sex all the time. Maybe these past three months without Lo, their time together has been innocent and not as bad as I believed. And I do want Daisy to eat that taco.
“What will you do for me if I eat that?” Daisy asks, a scheming smile lifting her lips.
“We’re bargaining now?”
She swims a little closer to him, her shoulders the same height as his knees. “It’s only fair. You want me to do something. So I think I should get something in return.”
“You get the nutrients of this fucking taco,” he tells her. “That’s a win-win.”
She tries hard not to smile and just shakes her head. Oh, she’s learned how to play his games since the last time. I should break this up, I think. But I’m hypnotized by their easy banter.
“What do you want?” he asks.
I nudge Lo with my foot. He needs to see this! They’re about to strike some deal that is not going to be pretty. I try to find Rose and Connor too, but they’ve drifted over to the pool-side bar.
Lo reluctantly tears away from his phone and follows my gaze, watching my sister and his brother.
And then Daisy’s sly smile falters. “I don’t know what I want,” she realizes.
“Well that’s a problem.”
Lo gives me a stare like that’s what you’re freaking out over? Really? It’s all in my head, isn’t it?
“And I don’t have time for you to figure it out,” Ryke tells her. “The taco will be cold by then.” He peels the aluminum foil back and holds out the end to her. “Come on, just one bite.” His tone isn’t kind or soft. It’s rough and forceful, something that Daisy is not used to, I think. Her curiosity twinkles in her eyes.
Daisy stares at Ryke for a long moment. “Why do you want me to eat this so badly?”
“Because your body needs something more than fucking rum, ice and piña colada mix.”
“My agency would disagree.”
“Your agency fucking sucks,” he says.
“You would try to make every model eat cake, wouldn’t you?”
He doesn’t deny it.
She smiles. “You know they’d just throw up afterwards.”
“You better not—”
“I’m not bulimic,” she says. “I’m not even anorexic. I just know what I should and should not eat. And trust me, when I’m not counting down the days to a photo shoot, I’ll pig out. But I have a runway in three weeks. Everyone will be pinching my fat, and you won’t be there to see their disappointed, disgruntled looks. I will.”
“I think,” Ryke says slowly, trying to process the words, “you need to realize that this taco isn’t going to add an inch on your waistline. If you have as great willpower as you say, then eating this won’t cause you to binge tomorrow.”
I kind of want to clap. He actually makes complete sense, and Daisy contemplates his whole statement with high regard. And then she nods in acceptance.
“Okay,” she says. “But just one bite.”
“Unless you love it.”
“Like I said—”
“You like many things, that doesn’t mean you should eat them,” he finishes. “I heard you.”
“You listen,” she says mockingly. “What kind of guy are you?”
“The rare kind.”
My shoulders tense. Are they flirting? Does Lo see this? He is watching, but I can’t read his expression at all. His muscles, however, pull tight.
“Okay,” Daisy says, eyeing the taco. “I’ll eat it.”
“Stop talking about it and do it,” he says.
She sets a hand on his leg and the other on his wrist as he holds out the taco. She leans forward to take a bite, and I swear, her eyes connect with his the entire time. There’s something incredibly dirty about this—I see it, does anyone else?
Lo says nothing.
When she takes a bite, her eyes flutter closed and she lets out an audible moan. “Oh my God,” she mumbles, chewing.
Ryke wears a satisfied grin, like he won the best prize, seeing her happy (or making an orgasmic noise, I have no idea). Sauce leaks onto her chin, but her head is tilted back, too absorbed in food bliss to notice. He uses his thumb to wipe the sauce right below her lip.
“Good, right?”
She swallows. “The best.”
Okay, maybe I’m the only one processing the event in a phallic way. Ryke and Daisy act completely innocent about the entire ordeal. Maybe they don’t even realize how sexual it all was. (At least it wasn’t a hot dog.)
“Here.” He holds out the rest of the taco.
Surprisingly, Daisy accepts the food, taking the foil from his hands. “Thanks,” she says in genuine appreciation. And then she swims off towards Connor and Rose.
Lo opens his mouth, and I wonder if he’s about to chastise Ryke. But how can he when Daisy ate something healthy for once? That has to be a win, right? Before Lo says a thing, Melissa returns and we all go quiet. Well, technically Lo and I were already quiet, but the air stretches in an uncomfortable way.
Melissa sits beside Ryke on the cement, and she leans a shoulder into him. He wraps his arm around her.
“The maids are done with our room,” she tells him, practically batting her eyelashes.
That’s where she went—to check on the status of our room? If I’m not allowed to have sex there, then why can she? I look to Lo for answers, but his gaze has permanently fixed on Ryke.
“I already talked to you about it,” Ryke says evenly.
“Yeah, but the public bathrooms are so gross.” She looks up at Lo and me. “You guys don’t care if we fool around for a couple minutes back in the room, right? We’ll stick to the cot.”
“Daisy is sleeping on the cot tonight,” I remind her. Daisy offered to sleep on the floor, not wanting to ruin our arrangements with her impromptu arrival, but Ryke refused to let her crash on the ground. He was nice enough to take the worst spot.
“Then we’ll use the couch,” she says with a shrug. “You two are free to go back and have fun whenever. Really, it doesn’t bother me.” Hope surges through me. This is my opportunity to have sex later this week. Just when I’m about to tell her to frolic right on over to the room, Ryke has to speak.
“It bothers Rose and Connor.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
An awkward silence soaks the air, and Daisy swims over to cut it right up. “Rose and Connor are fighting,” she exclaims. She lifts her body out of the pool and sits on the chair next to me. “It’s kind of scary. I don’t understand half the words coming out of their mouths.” Her hair looks almost brown now that it’s wet. She wrings it out in her hands.
I glance at the pool-side bar. Sure enough, Rose and Connor square off, their mouths moving in such rapid succession that they look as if they’re on a debate team. People surrounding them watch in amusement and even awe.
“Anyone want a refill?” Melissa asks. She stands and waves her empty cup.
“I could take a daiquiri,” Daisy says.
“Virgin, right?”
Daisy doesn’t even blink. “No, I’m drinking rum.”
“I don’t really condone underage drinking. You’re what, seventeen?”
“Sixteen,” she says, still unaffected by Melissa’s edgy words. “In some countries, I’m old enough to be married and sold into prostitution, so hey, I think a couple of drinks won’t necessarily kill me.”
“Well life is different here. We’re in America.”
“We’re in Mexico, actually.”
Melissa’s throat bobs, but she tries to brush off her snafu with a shrug. “Yeah, whatever.”
Ryke hardly suppresses his grin, and when he meets Daisy’s gaze, she gives him a look like you’re going to get in trouble.
Ryke does not care what anyone thinks of him, even his somewhat-girlfriend.
Melissa sets a hand on her hip. “Want anything, babe?” she asks Ryke with a little force.
He doesn’t drink. We all know that, and so her power move is completely obvious.
“No, I’m good,” he says. When she struts off in her black bikini, Daisy tilts her head, watching Melissa’s butt bounce all the way to the tiki hut. “She does have a nice ass.”
“Yeah?” Ryke says casually, eyeing Daisy as she observes Melissa.
“Oh yeah,” Daisy says. “But I’d put my ass in contention too.” I think she’s testing Ryke.
Lo stiffens beside me, and he waits to see how his brother is going to respond. Shut it down, Ryke—I can hear Lo recite in his head. Or I’d like to think I can hear him. I still haven’t developed that superpower yet.
“Her ass is better. Sorry,” he says, but he never looks back at Melissa. Daisy has stolen his attention.
She shrugs. “You’re probably right, but if I had to rank asses, Rose’s would be number one. She has the best hair too.”
“Your hair is pretty,” Lo tells her.
“Don’t,” Ryke warns him with the shake of his head. If Daisy is insecure about anything it’s the hair she cannot cut or dye, per her agency’s rules.
Lo’s face sharpens, resentful that Ryke knows more than him. Being out of the loop for three months has been a disadvantage. Ryke saw exactly what went on when Lo was in rehab. Lo did not.
I scoot to the foot of the lounge chair and rest my head on the crook of his shoulder. He draws me into his arms. But my presence isn’t enough. I can’t give him back all those days he missed.
“My hair is fine,” Daisy says. But she braids it subconsciously. Then she rises and sets her toes on the pool edge. She splashes into the water, and surprisingly, Ryke joins her, dropping in. He breaks the surface and runs a hand through his wet hair. Both of them cling to the wall, facing us.
“Is she good in bed?” Daisy asks him.
My eyes widen to saucers.
“Why, you want to fuck her?” he asks.
“Sure why not,” Daisy says. I can barely tell she’s sarcastic, and Lo grinds his teeth a little. Ryke, however, finds it way too amusing.
“Then have at her, Daisy. She’s all yours.”
“You would just ditch your girlfriend like that,” Daisy says with the cluck of her tongue.
“She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just passing through.”
“Wow,” Daisy says flatly. “I hope for her sake she knows that.”
“She does, but I may have promised her a week of mind-blowing sex in exchange for ditching her volleyball team.” No wonder she’s so grabby.
“You better find a way to make good on your end of the deal,” Daisy says, her gaze past our chairs. I turn my head and spot Melissa coming over with two drinks.
“Why is that?” Ryke asks.
“If that’s how pissed off she looks now, imagine what she’ll look like on the seventh day of abstinence.” For some reason, I only see my distressed, manic face staring back at me. “I’m glad I’m not you,” Daisy tells him with a laugh.
He gives her a bitter smile and then puts a hand on her head, submerging her underneath the water. She splashes underneath, trying to surface.
Lo shakes his head at him.
“What?” he says.
“You’re walking a thin fucking line.”
“I always am, little brother.” And then he releases Daisy so she can come up for air. When her head breaches the surface, she spits a mouthful of water right at Ryke’s face.
He splashes her back, and underneath the water, Daisy must hook her ankle to his because he almost slips backward. Instead, he grabs ahold of her so he stays above the water.
“Hey,” Melissa says. Little umbrellas are plucked into both of the piña coladas. She scrutinizes Ryke and Daisy, the way Ryke is basically hugging her in the water, but it’s really accidental. Or so I keep telling myself. It makes me feel better about the situation.
Ryke drifts from Daisy, and she swims to the ledge where we sit. They both look completely innocent again, as though no flirting just occurred. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I’m just the pervert, thinking with my downstairs far too much.
Yeah, that has to be it.
Daisy holds out her hand for the drink.
“It’s a virgin daiquiri,” Melissa says, passing her the white slushy-like mixture.
“Oh.” Daisy holds the clear plastic cup. “Why is that?”
“They didn’t understand me when I told them my order. We’re in a foreign country.” I can’t tell if this is a ploy to keep Daisy sober, but I don’t see what she would have to gain from that.
Daisy hikes her body out of the water and stands from the ledge, sopping wet. She’s dripping water onto the foot of my lounge chair, and she glances at Ryke. “How do you say in Spanish, no virgin drinks?”
Melissa frowns. “How would he know?”
“He’s fluent,” Daisy says. She discovered that during her sweet sixteen in Acapulco. Ryke has a proficiency in Spanish due to his prep school upbringing.
He climbs out of the pool and grabs the cup from her. “I’ll order you a fucking drink. Wait here.” He leaves, and whatever Melissa was expecting to happen, this was not it. She pout-glares, which is a scary combination.
While I love that I’m not the only one who’s going to be sexually frustrated this week, Melissa is like a storm waiting to break. And with Lo being surrounded by never-ending drinks and the threat of the blackmailer still lingering, this trip teeters on the brink of chaos.
My only hope is that Rose and Connor, the two level-headed people of our group, can keep us afloat. My gaze hits the pool again. They’re still bickering.
God, help us.
{ 22 }
LILY CALLOWAY
Sleep hates addicts. At least that’s my theory on the matter. While everyone else is well rested and off to explore Mexico, Lo and I have to drag ourselves out of bed.
My frozen muscles barely even stir when a burst of water douses me in the lukewarm shower. I raise my half-asleep arms to scrub the shampoo in my hair, and I find myself leaning a hip against the coldness of the tiled wall for extra support.
Being late sleepers means having the room all to ourselves. We haven’t had sex (and aren’t planning to) but the privacy is nice for a little while.
As I rinse the shampoo, the bathroom door creaks open. Even though I know Lo is the only one still at the hotel, I cling to the tiled wall, wondering if the fog will magically hide my naked body.
I spot Lo through the shower glass door, not enough mist to conceal me. And if I can see him, surely he can see me. I even catch a glimpse of his sharp cheekbones and devilish smile, his eyes flitting up to mine for a brief moment. Then he turns to the sink.
My mind switches into imagination mode. Thinking about all the ways he can do me.
“Morning, love,” he says, watching me through the mirror. He combs two hands through his disheveled brown hair.
That’s so not helping.
“You could have knocked,” I tell him as he pulls off his T-shirt. His muscles ripple down his chest, and he even has those defined ridges that lead towards his cock. “Or, you know, announced your entrance like they do on Downton Abbey.”
He steps out of his drawstring pants, now completely naked. He walks towards the glass shower door and stops. And then he knocks on it.
I have petrified by the tiled wall.
“It’s Loren Hale,” he says, a smile spreading across his lips. “May I come in?”
“We can’t…” I hesitate. No. I do not want to finish that sentence.
“We can’t shower together?” he says in disbelief. “Says who?” No one. Definitely not me.
“You may enter, but I have to warn you the water is being stubborn. There are moments where it’d rather be cold despite my demands.”
He opens the glass door. Don’t look, Lily. My eyes plummet against command, and once I’m staring, I can’t stop. Sensitive-filled places pulse as I imagine him inside of me. His fingers press against my chin, lifting my gaze.
“If I have to, I’ll take a shower with my bathing suit on,” he tells me.
I shake my head fiercely. “It’s okay. I won’t look.” But even as I say the words, I impulsively glance down. Shit. The magnetic force pulls and my eyes betray me for a split second. I look back up, and I throw my hands in the air. “That’s the last time! I swear!”
His lips rise in amusement before he sidesteps to grab the washcloth and soap off the ledge. I now have a perfect view of his butt.
“Same goes for my ass,” he says with a small laugh, his back still turned to me. The lightness and humor in his voice relaxes my shoulders.
“I like your ass,” I tell him as he rotates to face me, a washcloth in hand.
“I know you do,” he murmurs. He laces his fingers with mine and draws me to his body. My thigh brushes his cock, and a breath catches in my throat. “You’re okay, Lil,” he whispers. That’s not what it feels like.
He runs the cloth along my arms and in between my fingers, soaping my skin. I am hypnotized by the slow, lingering movements. And then the cloth dips to my belly and rises to my breasts, circling each one with meticulous care. I stagger forward a little and grip onto his arm.
“Easy,” he breathes. “Think of this as a test.”
“Showering with you?” My eyes widen.
“Showering with me,” he confirms with a nod, “without sex at the end. I’ll wash you and then you can wash me, okay?”
I don’t know what comes over me. I just…don’t think this is real. So I reach out and pinch his arm.
He flinches. “What the hell?” And he retracts his hands. No, come back!
“I-I was making sure this wasn’t a dream,” I explain. “I’m sorry!” I lean down and plant two soft kisses on the reddened skin.
His chest rises and falls with full-bellied laughs. “You’re supposed to pinch yourself, dummy,” he tells me.
Oh, right. I squeeze the skin above my elbow. Ouch, that does hurt.
He draws me back to his chest, and his hands slowly skim my arms, lighting every part of me. His eyes flicker to mine. “Am I real enough for you?”
Dear God, yes.
He talks easily as he returns to soaping my body, as though he didn’t just blanket me with Loren Hale seduction. “Today we can do touristy stuff alone together. Whatever you want.”
It’s our first vacation where Lo is sober and I’m in recovery. Our last trip by ourselves, we spent the weekend in Prague. We never even made it to a museum or Prague Castle. Lo wouldn’t let me wander the streets alone, so our time was spent in the hotel bar where I could pick up a guy and he could drink without us dying in the process. Now the memory just seems sad. We missed out on all the good aspects of traveling.
“We should see the Mayan ruins,” I say, excitement bubbling in my stomach. “Oh and turtles! I want to see turtles.”
“Sounds like a date.”
A date. A date in a foreign country with my boyfriend. A date in foreign country with my sober boyfriend. It sounds amazing.
And then the washcloth descends and all my thoughts whoosh right from brain. I hold onto Lo’s arms as he rubs the cloth on the spot between my legs. It aches for a deeper touch, for my body to burst with that familiar euphoria. But I remember something: This. Is. A. Test.
I plan to pass it. No matter how hard it is. I focus on his eyes and not his hands. “Hey boyfriend,” I say easily, testing out the word. I rarely say it aloud to his face. Maybe it will distract me.
“Hey girlfriend,” he replies. “You okay?” His brows rise, a little teasingly. I think he understands my physical state better than I do at times.
The washcloth ascends, leaving my tender flesh, and I nod in reply, words escaping my head. The water beads our skin and caresses us in its warmth, provoking me to take him every which way. But I won’t. My sex life is in his hands. I won’t jump him. I won’t hike a leg around his waist. I’m restraining myself. Willingly.
I feel a little good with the fact.
And then the shower chooses to have a manic episode, the water spurting in ice-cold sheets.
Holy shit!
I shriek and spider Lo’s body to avoid the chilly spray. So much for not jumping him.
His feet slide against the wet tiles, and he almost falls. But he catches his balance and rights himself, his arms wrapping around my hips to keep me from toppling.
I just realize that my arms are flung around his shoulders and my leg is most definitely midway up his waist. The position is not so innocent. But any arousal is smothered by Lo. He is laughing his ass off, his voice echoing in the boxed shower.
He cannot stop. Seriously.
“It’s not funny. This shower is a demon,” I tell him.
He tries to hide his smile, but fails. “If you’re scared of a little cold water, how are you going to pet snapping turtles?”
“I’m not petting snapping turtles,” I say, lowering my leg to the floor. “I only want to pet the cute ones.”
He passes me a bottle of shampoo from the ledge. “Oh, so the ugly ones don’t get any love from you? They’re left out all alone, cold, un-petted?”
I frown deeply. He’s right. I should pet all of them. Even the scary ones. “Okay, I’ll pet the snapping turtles, but only if someone holds their muzzle.” Before I run my fingers through his hair, I soap his abs with the cloth and follow the taut ridges across his body, being methodical but not too focused on where this could lead—which is nowhere. I tune into our conversation instead.
“I don’t think turtles have muzzles,” he says with another laugh.
“Snouts?” I ask, a little confused now. What do you call the nose of a turtle?
“That’s a pig.” We debate the existence of a turtle’s nose and the difference between Mayan and Aztec ruins while we finishing washing, and then we both step out of the shower and dry off. After a long moment, I realize that I’m okay. That I’m more excited about spending the day with him than I am about having sex.
I don’t know if I’ll feel this way tomorrow.
But today…it feels nice.
