Thrive (Addicted, #4)(41)

The cameramen are on lunch break, so fixed cameras are the only thing shooting us.

“So you’re not having sex?” he asks.

I can’t read the tone of his voice at all. I fucking hope I’m selling this well enough.

The longer he stares at me, the more I realize I may have overestimated my ability to lie to him.

Heat gathers on my forehead. I rub the back of my neck as I weigh the options in my head. I have to partially come clean. “No, I mean…” Just go with it. “We fucked the other day. She was a little compulsive afterwards, so I want her to abstain for three or four days and see how she does with that.”

She wasn’t that compulsive. She stopped herself from continuing past her limits, and there’s absolutely no goddamn way we’re abstaining. But I think it’ll appease him to hear a plan.

Not too long ago, I even asked him to keep an eye on us—to make sure we were keeping to a twenty-four-hour schedule. Sex every night, nowhere in between.

“And you used condoms?” he asks.

My lips part in shock, not expecting this. My stomach flips, and I slam my fist on the wall. “Ryke, hurry the fuck up.” I don’t want to share all the details of my sex life. Connor barely shares his. I need to keep something private, for fuck’s sake.

“Lo,” he says.

I spin to him, my eyes flashing hot. “This conversation is over.”

“I’m trying to imagine what Lily will look like pregnant.” His tone is conversational, not spiteful. “Would her entire body swell or just her belly?”

My chest rises with irritation and with something so dark. I’m selfish. But I don’t ever want to be that kind of selfish—to have a kid, knowing he or she could be plagued with this lifelong struggle.

“At least I’m getting laid,” I say, my voice like razors that physically pains me. But I keep going. “How long have you been fucking your hand?”

“My hand and I go way back,” he says easily, a warm smile attached.

My muscles loosen. It’s a mystery why people keep me as a friend.

“I’m not your brother.” Connor nods to the crawl space. Ryke is still searching for the traps. “I’m not going to curse you out for doing something stupid. But I am dating your girlfriend’s older sister, so my own balls are on the line here.”

Right. I nod. “The repercussions of getting into bed with a she-devil.”

“And I fucking like her,” he says, “so make my life easier and use a condom.”

I completely relax. I can imagine how annoying it must be having Rose in his ear all day. I contemplate whether or not Lily and I have been safe. I think we have. She’s on birth control. I mutter, “I’ll be better about it.”

Ryke crashes into more pipes, cursing and then shouting back, “There’s so much fucking mold down here. No one should be fucking living on this floor until we hire someone to clean it.”

I read in between the lines.

Daisy lives on the lowest level.

I saw the way he looked at her in the bathroom when we first arrived at the townhouse. For so many reasons, I can barely stomach the possibility that he could like her more than just a friend.

I squat again and see Ryke heading to the door. “If this is your way of getting Daisy to room with you, you can forget it. I’m just barely tolerating your friendship.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ryke retorts. “There were rats in her bedroom, she’s living near mold, and your first assumption is that I want to fuck her?”

I glower, trying not to picture that. “I didn’t say anything about fucking her.”

Ryke groans. “I’ll fucking room with Scott,” he shouts. “Daisy can take my room. Or I’ll stay down here and switch with her. I don’t give a shit. None of the girls should be around this.”

“And what if she hears Lily and me fucking through the walls? There’s a reason she’s on the lowest level.” It’s hard to believe that Daisy is the one protecting our secret—a girl who jumps off cliffs, rides a motorcycle and runs headfirst into life.

I wish I could keep her ten-thousand feet from all of this. The basement is safe from Scott. From most of the leering cameras. From us.

Maybe she can grow up normal, have a real, peaceful adolescence that none of us really had.

Ryke gives me one of the darkest looks I’ve seen in a while.

I frown and crane my neck over my shoulder, looking at Connor for his opinion.

“You can’t censor a girl who’s nearly seventeen, especially not a high fashion model,” he says to me. “She’s heard and seen everything you have, if not more.” So it’s too late for her then.

She’s all grown up.

“I’ll call someone to look at the crawl space,” Connor continues, “but until it happens, Rose would want her sister somewhere clean.”

I let out a breath. “Ryke, you’ll room with Scott?”

“I said I would.”

“Fine. More eyes on that prick, the better, right?” Especially if Daisy is moving upstairs.

Ryke mumbles a yes, and his arm thumps into a hanging piece of wood. “Fucking A,” he curses, reaching the door. I grab underneath his arms and help pull him through the small exit.