Addicted for Now (Addicted #2)(84)

“Usually, I f*cking don’t,” he agrees. “But that time, I did. So can I talk now or am I going to get the third-degree?”

I motion for him to continue.

“It was Daisy’s sweet sixteen and we were on the boat. Her friends were discussing sex, and I was not a part of that conversation, believe me. They roped Lily into it, and she looked ready to fling herself off the yacht. I mean, she’s a f*cking walking oxymoron: a sex addict who’s uncomfortable talking about sex.”

“She’s working on it.”

“That’s what I thought too, but she ran away from the girls. And when Daisy confronted her to talk about sex, she was flustered again. I was just trying to show her that it’s okay. That people can be comfortable about it. I knew I was going to cross a line, but I thought it was going to be f*cking worth it. For Lily…and a little bit for Daisy too.” He pauses. “It just happened, Lo. I can’t take it back, and I honestly wouldn’t.”

I think that should be Ryke’s motto. It just happened. Or better yet, throw in his favorite word. It just f*cking happened.

I’m strangely calmer—mostly because I can picture Lily turning a shade of red, crawling into herself over all discussions about sex. Even with her sister.

“Are we good?” he asks hesitantly.

Saying yeah feels like a complete defeat, so I just nod.



***



When we return to the table, everyone is gone. The plates are scraped clean and the chairs are empty. We exit the restaurant and spot Rose and Lily by a taxi van that hugs the curb. They hold Styrofoam to-go boxes and wait for us. Connor has the passenger door opened, speaking to the driver over the seat.

Daisy climbs out of the cab, her eyes set on us. She jogs to reach our sides. “So Connor couldn’t get the limo service to come pick us up early,” she says, catching her breath. “They were all booked, but I hailed a cab—”

“Why’d everyone leave?” Ryke asks.

Daisy gives him a stern look. “We weren’t going to let Melissa go home by herself. We’re in Mexico.”

I can’t help what I say. I’m so pissed at everything and everyone. “That’s funny, last time you were in Mexico, you had no problem leaving Lily and your friends to go jump off a f*cking cliff.”

Ryke shoots me a glare to drop it.

“That was different,” she says to me. “I wasn’t storming off angry. And I already apologized…I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”

“It’s fine,” Ryke tells her. “Where’s Melissa?”

“In the back of the cab, waiting for you,” Daisy says, “I calmed her down a little. She’s no longer looking at flights to go home, and I think if you make out with her, she’ll forgive you.”

Ryke rolls his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“She wants to know you care.”

“I do care!” he shouts, frustrated.

“You don’t act like it,” Daisy says. “Girls want to be the sole focus of your attention. They want to be all you think about, all you look at and see. You’re more fixated on chicken tacos than Melissa.” She pauses. “But if you’re sick of her, you know, you don’t have to do anything. She’ll just leave…”

Ryke stares at Daisy for a long moment, his features hardening.

I think he does want Melissa gone, but that will give Daisy the wrong impression—that he’s saying goodbye to Melissa for the youngest Calloway girl. And I don’t think that’s it at all. I think Melissa is annoying as hell, and he’d rather be alone than deal with her any longer.

He meets my hot gaze. He only has one choice, and the fact that he’s considering leading Daisy on makes me want to go back into the bathroom and strangle him.

“Fucking fantastic,” he says under his breath and walks past both of us towards the cab.

Daisy shakes her head repeatedly, but she stares at Ryke’s back, her eyes pinned to the spot even after he climbs into the cab. Maybe Lily is right—the farther you push two people away, the more they’ll pull together.

When we reach the cab, I kiss Lily on the cheek and take the box from her.

“I saved your fish tacos,” she says.

I’m glad since I had nothing to eat. I was too concentrated on unnecessary drama than my food. She keeps her hands cupped in front of her, but I’d like nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and kiss her for a long, extended moment.

She bites her bottom lip, which shallows my breath and beats my heart. All my anger suddenly depletes as I imagine what I can do to her. How I could take her so hard and so fast that she’ll cry in such searing pleasure.

I am used to having sex with her every single day. And I know she fears that I’ll resent her for withholding sex, but the new frequency only makes the next time we f*ck even headier.

I draw her to my chest and lean my head low, my lips brushing her ear. I want to whisper how she makes me feel and how I plan to take her so many different ways. But I can’t promise her things that won’t happen. I can’t even bring her to the beach to screw because that would be considered public sex.

So I just land on the truth, “I love you,” I whisper.

She stands on the tips of her toes and kisses me sweetly on the lips. I run my hand through her hair and then bite her shoulder playfully before setting an equally chaste kiss on her neck. She shivers in my arms, and I don’t tempt her anymore. I fear that one kiss may drive her to want more. It hasn’t since her public humiliation, but I know it can be all too easy to go back there.