Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(84)

Lo grabs my wrist. “Lily, stop.”

“You’re defending him?” I gape. “Really, Lo!”

Lo whispers heatedly in my ear. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re not thinking right.”

I shove Lo off my chest. “You both are assholes,” I say, looking between them as they stand side by side. Dapper, handsome, ice and stone. I hate them. I hate me. “I don’t even know why I agreed to any of this.” To being with Lo. To letting Ryke follow us around. If I stop and think for two seconds, maybe I’ll understand that I’m projecting all of my anxiety from the fashion show onto them. And it’s unfair, immature and cruel. But I don’t want to think. I just want to do.

I inhale sharp, sporadic breaths. I need to go. Now. I race to the bathroom, a lot faster than Lo, and head into the men’s room rather than the women’s. A guy in his thirties sees me through the mirror as he relieves himself. He curses and zips up his fly. Confidence inflates my body—the need to do this surpassing everything else.

I pick a stall without saying a word to him.

Lo walks in, not even glancing at the guy. He sets his sights on me, only me, and looks as though he wants to devour me whole or maybe choke me. Yes.

He slams the stall shut behind us and roughly grabs my wrists. He spins my body so my backside rubs against his pelvis and places my palms on the tiled wall. My back curves in an angle, my feet just outside of the toilet.

“You want this?” Lo growls, his hand slipping underneath my dress, his fingers finding the wettest spot.

I gasp, my eyes rolling back. Please.

He wraps a hand over my mouth, muffling my moans as he pushes his fingers in and out. My palms slip on the tile, and I almost knock my head into the hard wall, but Lo has a tight hold on me, keeping me on two feet.

He thrusts inside, and I lose myself to the pleasure, to the bliss, to the hardness of him. My breathing sharpens in my throat, and he never slows. He slams against me, as though telling me I’ve been bad. And I take it with batted breath and headiness.

When we’re done, he pulls his jeans up to his waist and buttons them while I try to find my panties around my ankles.

“You okay?” Lo asks, brushing my sweaty hair off my face.

“I think so.” Why did I have sex here? Everything I just did surges into my head and my heart, and I inhale weighted breaths. Why did I do this? What is wrong with me?!

When we exit, he washes his hands, and then leads me out. Luckily, the show hasn’t started, but the room fills to the brim.

I slip into a front row seat beside Connor, avoiding Ryke.

“I should go see Rose,” I say.

“There’s no time.” Connor glances at his Rolex. “The show will start in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.”

I try to blink away the guilt that knots my stomach. My hands shake, and Lo reaches over and clasps them. I spot the worry in his eyes, but I try not to hold onto it. I’m okay. Everything is going to be fine.

I look up and see Poppy walking down the aisle with a wide grin and Sam on her arm. My stomach does a full summersault. They scoot in and she comes over to greet me, kissing me on the cheek. “There are so many people here!” she exclaims. “Rose should be so proud.”

“Where’s Mom?” I ask, my heart pounding to the fast-paced rhythm of the music.

“She’s coming. Dad was on the phone, so they stopped outside for a second.” She glances at Connor and Ryke. “Who are your friends? Oh, is this Charlie?” She focuses on Ryke who wears a confused expression.

“No, Charlie moved,” I lie. “This is Ryke. He’s a friend from Penn, and that’s Connor Cobalt.”

Poppy momentarily forgets Ryke as Connor rises to shake her hand and then Sam’s. “It’s nice to meet you both.” His good looks and words have officially hypnotized Poppy. She nods while he talks about Fizzle to Sam, trying to bring up familiar conversation. I can’t tell if this is Connor’s normal bout of schmoozing or if he’s adding on the extra charm to embed himself further in Rose’s good graces.

When Poppy detaches herself from Connor Cobalt’s magnetic hold, she whispers to me. “This is the boy Rose is seeing?”

“Yep.”

Poppy smiles. “She did well.”

“Yeah, but she probably thinks she can do better.”

Poppy laughs and then touches my arm. “We’re sitting a few seats from yours. I’ll see you after the show.” She hesitates. “And Lily, I’m glad to finally meet your friends.”

I smile, but it hurts. Because deep down, these friends may as well be bought and paid for.

Poppy and Sam go find their seats, and I settle in mine with a weight heavy on my chest. The only thing that takes my mind off of it is sex. And once I start focusing on photographers, especially the scruffy one in the corner, my body starts to switch again.

I’ve trained myself to self-medicate with sex for so long that stopping seems so unfeasible, like trying to break a high-speed train before it crashes into a cement wall. So I’ll crash. I’ll splinter and break. But it’ll feel damn good going two hundred miles an hour beforehand.

That’s all I concentrate on. The thrill, the high and endorphins from rocking against another body. Any body. Hopefully Lo. No other thoughts enter my mind and my knees practically bounce in earnest hunger.