Thrive (Addicted, #4)(51)

More flashes and clicking.

There is no escape.



*



We sit on plastic white chairs that line the runway. I lean closer to Lo, gripping his bicep while his hand remains on my knee. “Can you put your hand higher,” I whisper, my heart racing in my chest. I need something.

Wait. My eyes bug.

I take in the setting. Front row seats to a runway show. Press snap photos of the audience before the models begin to walk. I’m wedged between Lo and Ryke. For some reason, production separated us from Rose, Connor and Scott, who sit across the white runway.

I can’t be fingered right now. On this chair. In front of other people.

Some logical part of my brain died outside.

Lo gives me a worried look.

“Nevermind,” I slur together. “Keep your hand, right here.” I pat the top of his hand on my knee for further emphasis. But I wonder if I can just pull it up a little higher.

No.

I cross my legs to put some pressure between my thighs.

It doesn’t help. I think I’m sweating through a Calloway Couture blouse. I’m going to ruin one of Rose’s garments. Shit. I waft the silky fabric away from my chest to avoid boob sweat.

Lo rubs my shoulder. “Look at me, Lil.”

I do. His amber eyes almost melt me beyond recognition. My heart is speeding so fast. Everything will feel better if we just…I just want him to thrust…no Lily.

He scrutinizes my state of mind, his scotch-colored eyes dancing over me. Then he holds my head to whisper in my ear, “I can’t have sex with you today.” His voice is very stern.

I exhale a tight pain in my chest. “I know.” It’d be the bad sex that only medicates my anxiety. The compulsive, beastly side of me that comes out with stress and loneliness.

“Why are you here, Lily?”

I frown. “What do you mean…?”

“In this chair,” he says, “in this building. What are we doing here?”

I glance around. Oh. The cameras. The runway. I look across it. Rose and Connor are talking so quickly, probably in French, and their eyes keep flickering to me. Concern coats their faces.

Even a few famous actors line the front row. Some even former models themselves.

I turn to Ryke on my right. He stares down at me with those hardened brows. “You look like hell.”

Déjà vu. I abandoned Rose’s fashion show for sex once upon a time. Never again. I don’t want to keep repeating the same mistakes. This time will be different.

“I’m here for my sister,” I tell Lo.

He nods again, seeing that I understand.

I take a deep breath, uncross my legs and lace my fingers with Lo’s. Don’t think about sex.

Good plan, Lily.

And then the music fires up—an electronic beat that I wholeheartedly approve of. People still brush elbows with their friends, whispering as the models prepare to do their thing, but the overall chatter is drowned out by the song.

I squirm and sit taller, straighter in my chair, inflated with this temporary confidence. Don’t think about sex.

“Lily,” Lo winces. I’m gripping his hand so hard that his fingers purple.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s okay,” he says, resting his hand on my knee.

I stiffen, and he retracts almost instantly.

“Wait,” I say hurriedly, “don’t be afraid of me…”

Lo stares at me for a long second with confusion. “I’m not, Lil.” He rubs my thigh just to show me.

I nod. This is good. The spot between my legs pulses. Shut up vagina.

Now I’m speaking to my vagina. Great.

I can leave.

But that means I let my addiction rule my life. I only win if I stay put. Lo’s hand drifts to the back of my neck, his thumb making melodic, calm circles that slow my heart.

His amber eyes never leave mine, and I find myself scooting closer, my leg pressed up against his, my hand on his waistband.

“Lily…” he breathes shallowly. It’s a warning but why does he sound so sexy?

His concern is turning me on? Dear God.

I focus on the runway for uglier scenery. Loren Hale is too gorgeous to stare at right now. But as soon as I turn my head, I realize the models have already started strutting along the white lane.

Half of them are male.

Who did I smite this past week?

I train my gaze on their feet. They’re the non-sexiest part of a human being, in my opinion. I’ve never been into the whole foot fetish thing.

Ryke slouches beside me, his grumpiness strangely helping keep my anxieties at bay.

Lo says to us, “Rose thinks Daisy’s boyfriend is one of these models she’s been working with.”

I still can’t believe none of us have met him, and apparently they’ve been dating since January.

“I know,” Ryke says tensely. “It’s a stupid theory.”

“Why?” I ask, the conversation the perfect distraction. But my hand has yet to leave the band of Lo’s black jeans.

“Do you not see these fucking guys?” Ryke says to me.

I flush. “I’m not staring…why, did you think I was?” I squint one eye at him.

Ryke shakes his head at me like I can’t even… “Are these models really turning you on right now?” I grow even hotter than before. Technically Loren Hale is turning me on the most.