Addicted After All(118)



“I’m sorry,” Lo says dryly as he goes to warm up formula. “Did we interrupt you?”

I strap Maximoff in his navy blue bouncer. I chose what I’m most comfortable with in terms of breastfeeding, listening to Rose’s advice. It’s my choice. And plus, it gives Lo the chance to feed and bond with his son too.

“No,” Ryke growls back, his eyes focusing on me, dark and accusatory. Oh jeez. “Because someone made a pact about not having sex for six f*cking weeks.”

Lo looks too worn-out to even contemplate punching him. I am too. I’m beginning to wonder if everyone’s a lost cause for cursing.

“Were you fighting?” I suddenly fear, worry popping in my head. I do not want to be the cause of a Raisy breakup. Nononono. Raisy until the end. The end being death.

“We weren’t fighting.” That comes from Daisy, who finally slips out of the pantry behind Ryke, her neck dotted red like he kissed her for a long, long time.

Even that thought doesn’t make me aroused. Ha! Take that. I’m not sure who I’m “taking that” too, but in this moment, I feel invincible.

Daisy fixes the strap of her bra and hops on the barstool, swiveling around to face me in the middle of the kitchen. She wears a crooked, mischievous smile. So they were having sex?

“I’m officially confused,” I announce.

“Nothing below her bra or her underwear, thank you for that,” Ryke deadpans. No sex. Definitely no sex.

“It’s not her fault, for the fifteenth time,” Daisy says to him. “I want to do the pact. So stop nagging Lily.”

“Yeah, stop nagging me,” I add and almost stick out my tongue. I restrain myself. I’m a mom now. I have to show a level of maturity. I cross my ankles, my feet warm in dinosaur slippers. Those haven’t lost their cool factor since I was seventeen.

Lo would agree.

“Let me f*cking complain in peace,” Ryke growls, running a hand through his tousled hair.

Lo sits on the floor beside the bouncer, bottle in hand as he feeds Maximoff.

Daisy gives Ryke a roguish smile, something Lo can’t see on the ground in between the counters. “You know, you can still masturbate.” I’m slightly terrified at the idea that “masturbate” may be my son’s first word.

“Yeah, Ryke,” Lo eggs on. “You can still jerk one out like the rest of us.” Obviously Lo doesn’t share the same concern. Maybe it’s because I’m a sex addict. Right? Right?

I let it go with a breath. I’m surprised Lo is fueling this conversation at all. A year ago he would have gagged at the mention of Daisy talking about sex or his brother or any combination of the two. How things change.

Ryke nears us and leans on the bar counter beside Daisy. “Not if she cracks first.”

That’s a dirty game. So he was trying to kiss on my little sister and make her beg for sex. It’s low. Also devious. Definitely a solid plan in my book—The Lily Calloway Sexy Times Book that is. It’s only in my head, but it’s very resourceful.

Daisy tries hard not to smile. “I don’t come easily.” Ooh, that was super dirty too.

“Calloway, you’ve only ever come with me. I think I know how to get you off.”

“By chocolate cupcakes,” she says with a lopsided grin. Is that a sexual innuendo?

“Sure, sweetheart. Chocolate f*cking cupcakes and a nine-inch—”

I plug my ears with my fingers. I did not hear his size! Food. He was still talking about food. I only drop my hands when his lips stop moving.

“You two are so adorable,” Lo says dryly. “Please return to the pantry.”

Ryke shoots Lo his middle finger, and I’m close enough to punch him in the arm. He doesn’t even sway from the force.

“What was that for?” he complains. “I didn’t even say the f-word.”

“You did it with your finger,” I refute, pointing accusingly at his chest. Everyone saw it, not just me. “You can’t teach my week-old son that.”

“He can’t even learn the ABCs yet, Lily. He doesn’t know what this means.” He goes and makes the rude gestures with both of his hands now. He’s a horrible influence.

“You just want to be the cool uncle, admit it,” I combat.

“You’re just scared that Moffy is going to like me more than Connor, admit that.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Will not.” Though I can’t deny that he’s given Maximoff a cool nickname, one that I wish I’d thought of first.

Krista Ritchie's Books