Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(6)

“Perfect, we’ll just call their parents.”

The guys are quiet, and Ryke hasn’t taken his eyes off Daisy. I can tell that she’s embarrassed by what happened and the extra attention that bears down on her. She lifts her legs to her chest, shielding her boobs (and see-through shirt) from the guys. I watch her pick at the white inside of her cast, and then she sets her cheek back on my shoulder.

“Hello?” Rose snaps her fingers at them and then zeroes in on Connor, his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “You.”

“We’re not tattling, Rose.”

She glares. “Please. It’s not tattling. It’s justice.”

“It’s both. Though the tattling will undoubtedly outweigh the justice.”

Ryke and Lo approach us while Connor walks over to Rose by the sink.

“Dais…” Ryke whispers, squatting down, eye-level with her. The concern in his face clenches my heart in different ways. I’ve always wanted my sister to find someone that cares for her, so deeply, but I never thought that someone would be related to Loren Hale. I will always love that extra bond I share with Daisy, for however long her relationship does last.

I’m rooting for them to go on forever.

She lifts her head up and finally meets his eyes. Tears spill off her lashes, cascading down the long scar on her cheek. “I…” Her chin trembles, and I have a suspicion she was about to say overreacted but stopped herself short.

Ryke sits in front of Daisy and spreads his legs around her, so when he draws her close, she fits right against his chest. It’s a tender, gentle embrace that I would’ve never expected from an aggressive guy like Ryke. But he has a soft side when it comes to my little sister.

She twists the baseball cap front-ways and lowers it, blocking her eyes from him and everyone else. Her body vibrates with heavier tears, and I’m not sure how to comfort her. She feels like she failed herself, upset that she had a panic attack over paintball guns and caused a scene.

Ryke holds her tightly, and her slender arms wrap around his bare chest. An impenetrable stone in a raging storm. That’s what Ryke Meadows has always been.

“Lily.” The sharp voice captures my attention. Lo stands above me. His amber-eyed focus is all mine to obtain. His features are deathly beautiful, the severely cut cheekbones and smooth Irish skin. I think: his baby is in me. It’s such a weird thought.

But it sweeps me in an electric current, sparking each nerve and adding an extra beat to my heart.

“Hi,” I breathe shallowly, like this is the first time I’ve ever seen him. My neck heats, no doubt with a vibrant red hue.

His lips rise in a gorgeous smile. “Lily,” he says my name again, huskily in a deep, sexual voice.

My body tingles. “Don’t do that,” I whisper-hiss, flushing more.

“Lily,” he repeats, subtly licking his bottom lip. Oh my God. I spring to my feet to pinch him or punch him in the ribs for teasing me with my name. Who does that? He didn’t even touch me yet. As soon as I land on my feet, the world spins one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. I teeter backwards as my vision blurs with black and white blinding spots.

“Lily.” Worry breaches his voice, but I feel his hands around my hips before I tumble and fall. He combs my short brown hair out of my face, and I blink a few times, his features clearing past the dizzy haze.

“That’s…my least favorite Lily,” I say under my breath.

He exhales loudly. “Don’t stand up that quickly next time. Your blood pressure—”

“—is low,” I finish. “I know.” I’ve been taking lots of extra steps to ensure a healthy pregnancy: vitamins, eating less junk food, and reading books. But the more I try, the less I succeed. Rose leaves her doctor with an A-plus report and a pat on the back. I leave mine with a list of things to work on.

Lo said that they probably bribe the doctor to say nice things, just to one-up us. I doubt it. Though maybe the doctor is scared of Rose’s wrath. That is a likely possibility, especially since she went through four Ob/Gyn’s before choosing Dr. Freida Dhar.

My finger skims the blue paint on his ribs, the place so red beneath that I wonder if it’ll bruise. And I just hug Lo, my arms flying around his waist. The idea of a real bullet slicing through his skin nearly chokes the breath from my lungs. To lose Loren Hale is to lose my life. It’s these moments—of catastrophic change and brutal, ugly fatality—that I recognize how deeply I love him.

He tilts my chin up with his fingers, reading my pained features well, and he whispers, “We’re okay.”

I nod. We’re okay. And then he kisses my lips, full of pressure and force that numbs my brain. Yes. I shut my eyes and drift with the bursting sensations, his hand falling to the hem of my leggings. Yes. I feel so wet and ready for that image of his cock to become reality. But maybe now isn’t a good time?

I’m not sure.

And then he pulls away, my lips still warm from his touch. He mouths, later.

Later. I can do later. “What’s later?” I ask.

He just smiles.

His teasing is killing me. In a good-bad way. I cross my ankles, spin around to face my sisters, and lean against Lo’s chest. His hands settle on my hips, some of his fingers dipping below them hem of my leggings. He’s sneaky.

I catch myself rubbing my ass against his crotch, and I stop when his fingertips dig into my skin like he’s trying not to be that aroused.