Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(32)

He laughs a husky laugh.

“Lily.” I flinch at the sound of Lo’s voice, and I look over my shoulder, met with the back of the white desk. Right, I have the phone pressed to my ear.

“I’m Julian,” the model says, extending his hand.

My palm is too sweaty. He’ll think I’m weird if he shakes a slippery hand, so I point to my phone and give him a nervous smile. “Work stuff,” I say.

“What’s going on?” Lo asks through the receiver. “You okay, Lil?” His worried tone drives knots in my stomach. I don’t want him to be concerned that I’ll cheat. I know it’s a valid fear, but I wish he could trust me one-hundred percent. But he can only do that when I begin to trust myself.

Julian says, “When you’re finished, you should come out from under there. Your office has a great view.”

I know he’s just trying to be nice since I’m the anti-social monster hiding beneath her desk. He’s not hitting on me, but I can’t stop looking at his pretty eyelashes.

He stands, and I try to focus my thoughts on the phone call. “Lo?” I question whether he’s hung up.

“Lil,” he says slowly, “you’re freaking me the f*ck out.”

“Sorry, I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“At my desk.” That’s not a lie, right? Technically I am right here. “I just…thought you were going to be in the room too.” I don’t want to cheat on him. I don’t want to even give my mind the ability to contemplate the thought—to wander and fantasize. That will kill me. Keeping them out of sight is best, even though it’s not healthy to avoid the opposite sex when Lo’s not around.

Once I have a handle on controlling the things that tempt me, it’ll be better. Today’s just not a good day. I am overly aroused.

“You don’t have to talk to them,” he reminds me.

Too late.

“I thought you said you were at your desk.”

“I am.”

“Then how come I don’t see you?”

He’s here? I can’t even crawl out from underneath my desk anymore, not even to greet Lo and Rose. Because everyone by the muffins will laugh and look at me funny for being down here. I just want to stay hidden until they all leave.

“Maybe,” I say, “because your superpower is to turn me invisible.”

He pauses. “That’s a horrible power. Take it back.”

“Okay fine. I may be here. But I’m not here on my chair,” I whisper.

And then I see a pair of ratted Vans. He bends in front of me the same way Julian did, but his face isn’t full of kind amusement. His eyes darken, and his brows harden in concern.

“Go model or try on clothes or, you know, do what you do,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about me. I’m working on something down here.”

“Like what?”

Uhhh… “A report…thing.”

“Okay,” he says, and I relax, glad that he’s letting me off the hook. “Can I have a hug before I go?”

I crawl forward a little, still blocked by the desk sides, and I wrap my arms around him. He smells good. Like mint soap and a hint of citrusy cologne. Just before I let go, Lo’s arms tighten around my waist, and he begins tugging me out of my sanctuary.

“Lo,” I whisper fiercely. I shove his chest, trying to escape and crawl back to my den.

But he brings me into the light, and I bury my face in the crook of his arm, unwilling to meet the mocking gazes of the other models. I don’t want people to look at me like I’m a weird, abnormal girl.

Lo strokes the back of my head, and his lips brush my ear. “Hey, you’re okay. Lil, no one cares.”

“I care,” I mumble.

And then he clasps my face and before I can go spastic, his lips touch mine. He kisses deeply, his tongue slipping into my mouth. My thoughts, my insecurities—they whoosh out of my head and all my built-up tension starts to tighten again.

The distraction works too well. Because when he draws back, a few of the models clap and whistle in jest. Lo shakes his head at me as my elbows blush.

“Don’t listen to them.” He rolls out my chair and guides me until I’m sitting behind my desk once more. And he hangs onto the back, his head dipping low as he meets my ear. “Just think of finishing that kiss tonight.”

I turn my head a fraction to see his sharp features, all ice. “And what if I can’t wait?”

“You can,” he assures me, but his muscles flex, worried by my sudden claim.

“You’re right,” I say. “I can.” I nod, knowing I have to. I have to wait in this chair, with my back to ten male models, and I have to finish double checking my spreadsheet. I nod again, trying to build confidence.

He kisses my temple one last time, leaving me completely aching. And every so often, my arousal turns to embarrassment and shame. I wonder if any of those models can read my sinful thoughts—or if they just think I’m a bizarre girl. I shouldn’t care about the latter, but being reminded that I’m not normal makes me feel…wrong and dirty.

After Rose assigns the models outfits, she stops by my desk. “You look flushed.”

I shrug sheepishly. What else is there to say to that?