The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (103 page)

The sun lowers in the sky, dipping between buildings. Sweat soaks my shirt and trickles down my face.

My feet beat on the cement, a steady, relentless pace I push myself to keep even after my muscles ache and my lungs burn.

I think about Brooke and our weekend, but not the shit that happened today. I think about holding her last night in the tent. Her soft body curling against mine, pulling me closer in her sleep. Her breath against my neck and the smell of her hair.

Christ, being with her like that was everything. And fuck me, if I don’t want it every single night.

My infatuation with her started out as an idea. A glimpse of a woman I wanted to know and understand. A delightful interest. But the more time I spend with her, the more desperate I feel.

To have her. To keep her. I’m completely mad for this woman and I may have cocked it all up.

Three hours later and I’m staring down at the drain in my shower as cold water beats on my back.

My body is fatigued, my muscles aching and worn, but I don’t have the clarity I usually feel after a long run. My goddamn head feels heavier somehow.

So much for de-stressing therapeutically. I debate getting dressed and walking to the nearest liquor store.

Cutting the water off, I step out and cinch a towel around my waist, moving out of the bathroom and toward the bed. I unplug my phone from the charger and send out a quick text.

I did promise to keep her informed of developments. This is, unfortunately, my latest development.

Me: I fucked up with Brooke.

The phone barely touches the dark wood of my nightstand before it starts ringing.

“That was fast,” I tensely answer, wiping a quick hand over my face to collect the water dripping from my hair. “Please tell me you weren’t expecting that message and waiting around for it. I like to think my chances with this woman weren’t doomed from the start.”

“How the hell should I know about your chances? I’ve never met her,” Tessa replies, her tone helplessly clever. “And last time we talked,
you
said she was warming up to you, and that you’ve been seeing a lot of each other. Quite a bit, I believe were your exact words. Based on those two facts right there, I’d say you were doing better than a chump who was doomed from the start. I doubt she would’ve spent any time with you if that were the case.”

“Right, well, as lovely as that thought is, our time together may be over. I’m not sure how warm she is to the idea of me anymore after what I’ve put her through.”

“Oh, Christ. What did you do? And please, don’t skimp on the information. Reed still likes to leave out important details to stories just to make himself sound better. It never works. If you want my advice, I’m going to need to know exactly how you fucked up. Like you can’t tell me Brooke hates you now because you took her for a moonlit walk last night after your date, because I’m going to hear that and think ‘what the fuck is this bitch’s problem’, when really, you’re leaving off the part where you ran over some poor old lady with your car, left her to die in the middle of the street, and then ditched your vehicle because it was evidence. Making someone an accessory to murder is a valid reason to hate you.”

“I actually think Brooke might’ve preferred that to what really happened.”

“Ha-ha,” Tessa dryly replies. “Spill it. What did you do?”

I blankly stare at my comforter. “Took her camping when she expressed a strong aversion for it. I thought maybe I could get her to like it if she just focused on being with me, and not where she was or what we were doing. Last night I saw how anxious she was out there. I should’ve taken her home then.”

I might still have a bloody shot with her if I had.

Exhaling a worried breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She was trying to like it. Christ, she was beautiful out there, Tessa. So determined. Then today I pulled a tick off her leg and she broke down crying. I felt terrible. I still feel terrible. It was fucking awful seeing her upset like that and knowing I was the reason for it. She asked me to get her out of there and I did. When we got back, she barely said anything before she left to go home. It felt like a brush-off.”

“Maybe she was just freaking out and needed a moment to deal with it. Did she actually tell you to go fuck yourself and never speak to her again?”

“Not in so many words,” I answer.

“Well, I would’ve,” Tessa chuckles. “Fucking gross. A tick? That’s just cold.”

I feel the muscles in my shoulders tense. “I didn’t fucking put it there. I got the bloody thing off, didn’t I?”

“Would you relax? I think you’re overreacting.”

Overreacting? Am I? I don’t see Brooke here with me, so I think I’m reacting just fine.

Tessa breathes a laugh. “Mason. Mason. Mason.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love her? It kind of sounds like you do.”

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

When did my obsession with Brooke become something more?

I have no doubt of my feelings for her. I’ve never been more certain of anything before, but I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it all changed for me.

Would it even do me any good to admit it to someone now? If it’s over, what’s the point?

“I . . .” My response is interrupted by another call coming through the line. I pull the phone away to look at the screen, and my spine straightens as I blink the caller’s name into focus.

I nearly drop the damn device before I press it against my ear again.

“Tessa, it’s Brooke. I need to take this.”

“Ah, see? All that worrying for nothing. Let me know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” I reply thickly, my bloody voice bound by my uneasiness again. I clear my throat before clicking over to answer the call. “Brooke?”

“Hey.” Her voice is light and lifted. She sounds like she’s smiling.

Why would she be smiling?

“What are you doing?”

I look down at my towel, then around the darkened room. “Nothing. Just took a shower.”

“God, I took so many showers. I used an entire thing of body wash,” she giggles.

I run a hand through my wet hair.

She’s giggling? Why the fuck is she giggling? Is she happy right now?

“So, Mason . . .”

“Yeah?”

“That goodbye sucked. It was awkward and really fucking weird. I didn’t like it. You need to do better than that, okay?” A slurping sound comes through the phone. “Mm. Are you coming over?”

“What?”

“Billy is making his famous martinis. They’re so, so good. I’m on my third one so I can’t drive. You have to come to me.”

I sit down on the edge of my bed.
Am I dreaming this phone call?

“You want me to come over there? After what happened today?” I ask hesitantly.

I almost don’t want to shatter this illusion. This Brooke still likes me.

“Yes, hello! You wanted me for the whole weekend, right? I mean, that
was
the original plan before that bloody tick showed up and ruined everything. It’s Saturday night. Still the weekend, mate,” she laughs again. “You’re so funny, Mason.”

“I am?”

“Yes. So sweet and funny. A little strange, yeah? I like it.” She pauses, humming a bit. “Now hurry up and get over here. I want to kiss you before I’m drunk and don’t remember it.”

The call disconnects. I bring the phone away from my ear and stare at it.

What just happened?

Brooke isn’t upset anymore. She isn’t mad or acting like we’re through and she’s done.

She wants me to come over. She hated that goodbye as much as I did.

She wants to kiss me before she’s drunk.

Too fucking right. I want that. I hated that bloody goodbye. I didn’t even want one.

I dart off the bed and attack my dresser like a man possessed. Clothes are flying. I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and stumble into my runners, grabbing my keys and my phone.

My mood is jubilant. There’s that runner’s high I was hoping for earlier. Only this is better. Leave it to Brooke to shock me back into my usual pleasant self. She can’t do or be anything predictable. It doesn’t suit her.

Traffic is mild and I arrive at her building within a few minutes, pulling underneath and parking in the garage.

I take the elevators to her floor. I knock twice and step back, scowling at the water I collect off my neck. I didn’t even bother running a towel over my hair before leaving. My collar is damp.

The door swings open and Brooke’s bright face appears. She squeals and lunges at me, wrapping her hands around my neck and tugging me inside.

My back hits the wall. Her full lips form to my mouth.

“Hey. Hi. Your hair is wet, goof.” She filters her fingers through my hair and tugs on the ends. She kisses me slowly. Deeply. Pressing her small body against mine. Her tongue swipes across my lip and she moans. “Mm. My face is so warm right now. Feel.” Stepping back, she grabs my hand and presses it to her cheek.

I look at her, at that wild, devilish smile twisting across her mouth. The dimple sinking into her cheek and her brilliant eyes, round and eager.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, smiling so goddamn big. Her cheeks lifting and flushing pink.

My heart thunders in my chest.

Christ, I’m so in love with this girl.

A throat clears in the room. I look up and spot our audience, Billy and Joey, hovering a few feet away by the sofa. Both of them looking more than pleased at what they’re witnessing.

“Hey. How are ya?” I choke out, straightening off the wall.

“Evening.” Joey tips his glass, arching an eyebrow. “She’s been pacing around waiting for you. I almost had to sedate her.”

“Whatever. I was not,” Brooke snaps over her shoulder. She tugs on my hand. “Come on. Do you want a drink? We have beer.”

“And martinis,” Billy adds, nodding his greeting and then gesturing across the room. “Liquor cabinet is over there if you want something stiff.”

Brooke spins around. Her mouth slowly falling open and then spreading into a knowing smile. “Oh, my God. Do you get it? Something stiff?” She gets up on her toes, hand beside her mouth as she whispers, “like a cock.”

Tipsy Brooke doesn’t know how to whisper.

Her eyes pop wider when everyone enjoys a good laugh. Joey and Billy remark about only wanting stiff ones as they move about the condo.

I grin down at Brooke, scratching my jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart. I get it. I’m good with a beer, yeah?”

Her little nose twitches. “Yeah,” she chuckles, pushing on my chest. “Go sit. I’ll grab you one.”

I do a quick take of my surroundings as I pad toward the bar.

The condo is spacious and elegantly decorated. Expensive looking art covers the walls.

“Nice place,” I comment, sliding out a stool and stretching my arms out on the cool marble. “I’m still working on getting all of my stuff unpacked. It’s been a bit of a slow process. Other things have been occupying my time.”

Brooke smiles over her shoulder as she grabs me a beer.

“Oh, this is all Billy. I can’t decorate to save my life.” Joey comes to stand at the bar with his cocktail. “It’s strange how fabulous I am with my own fashion sense, yet when it comes to color schemes for a room I’m a hot mess about it.”

Billy steps up behind him and kisses his shoulder, laughing a bit. “It’s a good thing I love you for other reasons. Remember when you tried to wallpaper the bathroom?”

“Christ, don’t remind me,” Joey groans in embarrassment. “I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea.”

“Because you had just moved in and you wanted to surprise me with something. It was sweet.”

Brooke runs her hand across my back and places the beer in front of me. She kisses my cheek.

“I’ll be right back.”

I watch her disappear behind a door. I fight the urge to follow her in there when I decide on that being her bedroom.

Slow it down, mate. You damn well know what’ll happen if you go in there.

“So, camping . . .”

I turn my head and watch Joey’s eyes flicker with amusement over the top of his drink. He takes a slow sip.

I look between him and Billy. “Right. How was she when she got back here? Like this?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the bedroom.

“Hardly.” Billy drops his chin on Joey’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his waist. “She was freaking out about the tick, which isn’t shocking. This is Brooke we’re talking about. She once stayed at her sister’s house for the weekend because she saw a spider in her bedroom. Wouldn’t come home until we promised her we killed it.”

“We never found the damn thing,” Joey adds with a cheeky grin. “We just missed her crazy ass and wanted her to come home.”

I rub at my mouth. “So, when did she start acting like this? She seems fine now, like nothing happened.”

“Do you not know the glorious effects of alcohol?” Joey’s eyebrow lifts. “Once we distracted her with drinks, she calmed down about it.” He looks at Billy, then back at me, smiling like he’s in on some secret. “That’s also when she started going on and on about you.”

“Another thing you need to know about Brooke,” Billy pauses, his eyes lifting to something over my shoulder. I hear a door shut and he quietly adds, “She doesn’t do that,” before turning his head and pulling Joey away from the bar.

My mind soaks in that obscure bit of information.

She doesn’t do what? Talk about blokes like she does me? Drink and forget about unfortunate run-ins with insects?

What the fuck? I need clarity on this.

Brooke moves back into the kitchen and waves at me. I watch her as she reaches for a tall cocktail on the counter, one resembling Joey’s. It’s a pale green color with a cherry floating at the bottom.

She spins around and closes a cabinet. I study her, resting my chin on my hand. Her long hair falls down her back, curling against her black tank top. Loose trackies hang low on her hips with the words Team Pink covering her arse.

She brings the drink to her mouth and takes a sip. Our eyes meet. I smile, and she cutely waves at me again.

A door slides open behind me and draws my attention.