Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(59)

I hate flying.

Not like Superman flying. But plane flying—trapped in a metal tube in the air.

Add in my fear of heights and the prospect of being in a small, confined space for a long period of time, and I begin to freak out a little. I need the option to dash into a room and burrow underneath the covers, to hide from everyone and escape to my sanctuary.

Privacy, that’s my bread and butter (besides porn).

And now that I’m on the road to recovery, I can’t even join the mile-high club. I should already be in the prestigious sex-on-flight clan. Being denied for the umpteenth time aggravates me and cranks up my already intolerable sexual frustration.

Lo doesn’t fare much better. He used to love flying because of the mini-bottles of vodka. Now he just looks like someone stole his favorite toy.

The only upside is that we’re flying somewhere fun for Spring Break. Initially, I didn’t want to go anywhere. Traveling to a party locale during the wildest week of the year seemed like a disaster zone for a recovering alcoholic, but Lo basically forced me to concede. He said he wants to test himself, and there’s no better place than Cancun—with Ryke tagging along. Because we all know his half-brother would stand in front of a bus before letting Lo drink.

I would too. But I haven’t been put in that kind of situation yet.

My father’s private jet resembles a presidential living room more than a commercial plane. I lounge on a long plush couch with blue pillows. A television is mounted on the wall and plays a newer thriller film with Nicholas Cage.

Lo is sprawled out long-ways, his head in my lap as I give him a mediocre head massage. He reads a comic on his tablet, flipping the pages with his finger every so often.

Over on leather recliners, Rose slides her rook across a chess board. Connor leans forward with his fist to his lips in contemplation before he makes a move with his measly black pawn. The little alcove is nice for four people. And there’s another set of chairs and a table top to our right.

My eyes drift from the movie to the bathroom, hidden behind the same wall that the television occupies. “She’s been in there a long time,” I tell Lo in a soft voice. I am jealous of everyone in that bathroom. I just want to drag Lo by the arm and let him do whatever he wants to me in there. Preferably something that makes my back arch.

Lo expands a panel of his comic, his attention absorbed by persecuted mutants. I stop rubbing his temples, and then he follows my gaze. “Maybe she has to actually use the bathroom.”

“True.” An insensible part of me thought that tall, athletic volleyball players are immune to natural bodily functions.

I pause and glance over my shoulder, expecting to find Ryke to the right set of chairs. But that alcove is empty, only a couple bottles of water and splayed magazines. My eyes widen in realization. I gasp. “Ryke is missing.” I point to the bathroom door. “They’re screwing.”

Lo sits up, rising off my lap. I realize I am done giving him a terrible head massage. I’m surprised he hasn’t fired me before.

“They are dating,” Lo reminds me, powering off his tablet and tossing it on the cushion.

Ryke brought his “somewhat” girlfriend on vacation with us. In truth, Ryke doesn’t have real girlfriends. He just “dates” which is a loose term for seeing someone and having sex for a short period of time. At least, that’s how he explained it to me when Melissa stood at the airport with her rolling suitcase in tow.

Really, if I think about it, that’s what Lo used to do before we became an official couple.

I squint at the bathroom door, wondering when my X-ray vision will kick in.

It doesn’t.

“Why do I have the sudden urge to put my ear to that door?” My eyes grow big. Did I just say that out loud?

“You’re staying on the couch.” Lo tugs me onto his lap and kisses me lightly on the neck. I smile into our next kiss, his mouth meeting mine, but he draws back before I can deepen it. Damn.

My eyes flash back to the bathroom. “Can we? Later?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love.” He places a small kiss on the edge of my lips.

The bathroom door swings open, and I watch as Melissa struts out first, combing her fingers through her shoulder-length, honey blonde hair. I spring from Lo’s arms and rush to the bathroom as though I have to pee.

I don’t.

I just really want to catch Ryke red-handed. I think both Lo and I can agree that it’s overly fun trying to make his brother uncomfortable. I have yet to be successful. But one day, I’ll figure out what makes Ryke Meadows squirm.

When I look through the door frame, I find Ryke at the sink, washing his hands. He doesn’t even recoil in surprise.

“You are so busted,” I say. “I just saw Melissa leaving here.” I waggle my eyebrows for further effect, but he stays unblinking. Catching someone in an incriminating deed is not as fun when they don’t act like they’ve been caught. My mission: to make Ryke flinch for once.

“So?” He dries his hands on a cotton towel.

Being a cop can’t be nearly this annoying.

He says, “I’m sure you’ve spent plenty of time in a plane’s bathroom with someone else.” I have tried. None have been successful. But that’s not the point…right?

“We have a no-sex policy on this flight.”