Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(80)

Connor starts asking Lo about Superheroes & Scones, his duel comic book and coffee shop that he owns with Lily. I tune out at the words taxes and profit margin.

Ryke nods to me. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” His eyes fall to the paper rose. He’s watched me make them over the years, but this is the first time he’s asked.

Sometimes I don’t even notice that I’m playing with the napkins. I just do it out of habit. “When I was a debutante, the instructors made us sit at a table for hours. I was really bored.”

“You taught yourself?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I found an article online on how to make cool shapes.” I finish the napkin flower and hold it out to him. “Ryke, do you accept this rose?” I tease. He knows The Bachelor reference. When we were living with everyone, I made him watch taped episodes with me while I tried to fall asleep.

“That implies that you have many f*cking guys dating you.”

I mock gasp. “But you’re my number one.” I raise the baseball cap on my head so I can see him better.

“If I’m seriously dating a girl,” he says, “I better be the only f*cking one.”

He knows he is. I smile and pinch the stem of the rose. I slip it behind my ear. It’s not long after that our food parades towards us. The plates slide on the table, and the steak looks exactly like the picture.

“Need anything else?” the waitress asks.

“A dessert menu,” I tell her. I’m already anticipating a piece of chocolate cake. And if that doesn’t exist, then I’ll settle for a warm brownie.

“Sure thing, honey.” She leaves, and I cut my steak into large slices, not wanting to waste any time. My brain is screaming eat, eat, eat!

I take my first bite and shut my eyes. Delicious.

Magic.

I love food. After four more bites, I sip my water and say, “Told you, steel stomach.”

He chews, and his brows rise again, not as optimistic as me.





< 33 >

DAISY CALLOWAY



Theory disproven.

One hour after we left John’s and the steak forced its way back up in my throat, knotting my stomach. I even passed on the dessert back at the restaurant, already feeling queasy at that point, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I just mentioned that I was “full” from the sirloin and skipped it.

For Ryke, that must have been the first sign that I was going to be sick. The second, he said was me not moving in the back of the car. I was painfully still.

And then I puked.

On the side of the road thankfully, not in the car.

I’m less upset that Ryke was right, and more bummed that I can’t gorge myself on sweets and savory foods. I hate taking things slow. But my stomach is obviously not made of steel. More like plastic.

Not fun.

Many hours later, my stomach has completely settled, and we’ve crashed at a motel in the mountains, no Hilton or Holiday Inn in sight. Just a quaint little place called Big Cove Motel with yellowed wallpaper, kind of moldy bathroom tiles, but fox-printed quilts that look clean.

We checked into two rooms. One for me and one for them. Lo wanted to be nice by giving me some privacy and alone-time, I guess. I’m not used to being around Lo without Lily, and I think he’s uncomfortable by a lot of things. Me around his brother. Me around three guys and no sisters. Me on the road in a confined space.

But he doesn’t realize how paranoid I get when I’m alone. Even still on pain meds, I was wide awake when Ryke snuck in here at 2 a.m., and his presence just shifted the temperature in the room, lighting me on fire.

And then we kind of went at it.

We’ve been fooling around for the past twenty minutes, all fingers and kisses. He stares down at me, his lips raw. I only wear a shirt, Ryke’s favorite of mine. A baggy one that says: f*ck you, you f*cking f*ck.

My eyes linger on his erection that stirs new feelings in me. It’s hard to wait. Especially since I feel like we’ve been waiting for years, not just a few weeks. If our relationship began normally—not secret from his brother and my sisters and basically everyone—we would have had sex that day in the stairwell. We’re both a little impulsive.

And I wonder if tonight will be the night.

I hope so.

“How big are you?” I already kind of know the answer. His thin pants leave very little to the imagination.

He leans me back against the mattress, and I counter by propping my body on my elbows. He towers above me on his knees, slowly lowering his pants. I sit up again, wanting to be closer to him.

His cock springs out. Fully erect. And I unconsciously file through all the guys I’ve been with, all the dicks I’ve seen, and my heart thuds. He’s bigger than anything that’s been inside of me. And I have a flash of Connor’s porn tape. Oh God.

My brain wants to fry the knowledge, but it’s here to stay. I think they’re around the same size. I only caught a glimpse of Connor, but yeah, it’s kinda weird I know this at all.

I focus on Ryke’s cock though. The one in front of my face, begging for my attention.

Ryke holds my jaw. “You’re going to be insanely f*cking wet before I push into you, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t want to hurt me. He cups my heat, and I think he’s going to f*ck me with his fingers. “I want to get you off,” I say bluntly. “Or I want to watch you get off. You’ve seen me come twice. It’s only fair that I see you.”