The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (53 page)

“Shit. He couldn’t stay here,” Juls grumbles in front of us.

My eyes lift and land on Bryce as he walks down the middle aisle. I immediately tense and Reese feels it. The hand on my belly is removed, and he brings our conjoined hands to his lap. I take my eyes off Bryce and watch as Reese sits back in his seat, his chest rising with a deep inhale. He’s radiating with an unspoken threat, and I know Bryce feels it. I can see the apprehension in his eyes as he approaches our row. He tries to hide it, but it’s there. And it should be; Reese could easily snap this asshole in half.

He doesn’t say anything to us, but I see the shift in his expression, the moment he grows balls as he walks up to our row. All uneasiness fades and I immediately recognize the Bryce who came into my shop that day. The one who stared at me as I kissed Reese goodbye outside the conference meeting. The one who bought me the drink last night.

The fucker who thinks he actually has a shot.

“I’m sorry,” Reese says to me as Bryce moves past our row to the back of the plane. I look at him with confusion and he shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t know he was going to be on this flight. I thought he was staying here for a few more days.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I don’t like him around you.”

I place my free hand on his forearm. “Reese, it’s fine. Really.” My voice is full of conviction, and I see it working on his suddenly-geared-up state. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it just as Brooke walks past him and stops in front of Ian.

“That guy is a total douche-canoe.” Her eyes meet mine as I hold my breath.

Don’t say it. Please, God, don’t say it.

“Seriously, Dylan. Good on you for throwing your drink in his face last night.”

Fuuccckkkkkk.

“Sit your ass down,” Juls growls, reaching out for her sister and yanking her into the row. Brooke yelps as she tumbles over Ian, claiming her seat next to Juls.

I clamp my eyes shut, preparing myself for what could quite possibly ground this airplane. I don’t need to look at Reese to know that he is fuming right now. I can sense it in the air.

“Dylan, what the fuck is she talking about?”

Maybe if I jump out the emergency exit, he won’t follow me. That might be my best option here. Or I could punch myself in the face and pray for unconsciousness.

“Dylan, answer me.”

His voice is so commanding, my body submits without a fight. I’m immediately turned toward him and grabbing both his hands, pulling them into my lap. “He was at the club we went to last night. We didn’t know he was there until he bought me a drink and when that happened, I threw it in his face. He ran his mouth a little and then we left. That’s all that happened, I swear.”

His chest rises several times, heaving with fury. “He saw you in that dress.” He pulls his hands out of mine and settles back into his seat. He’s rigid, every muscle flexed as he struggles to keep himself seated. I know he wants to run to the back of the plane. I know he wants to beat the shit out of Bryce. And I know, by the way he isn’t touching me, that I’m in deep shit for keeping this information from him.

Goddamn that dress. It’s really screwing me left and right.

The two-and-a-half-hour plane ride home was the longest of my life. I’m not sure why I complained about the one to New Orleans. I would much rather listen to Joey and Brooke banter endlessly as opposed to complete silence from my fiancé, the man who is never quiet with me. Juls kept giving me sympathetic looks over the seat, while Brooke kept mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ throughout the eerily quiet flight. But even though he was pissed, even though he was angrier than he’s ever been with me, he was still my Reese.

He got me a ginger ale from the flight attendant without me asking for it. He carried my luggage with his as we walked from the terminal to his Range Rover. And he opened every door for me. I knew he wasn’t purposely trying to make me feel even worse about keeping information from him, but that’s definitely what ended up happening.

I hear the TV turn on in the living room as I plop myself down on the edge of his bed. I feel drained, mentally and emotionally. We’ve been home for nineteen minutes, not that I’m counting, and he still hasn’t said one word to me.

I hate this.

Reese’s words mean more to me than a lot of things. It was what I missed the most when we were apart for eighty-five days, and I could give him space right now and let him talk to me when he’s ready, but I don’t want space from Reese. I never will. If he doesn’t want to talk to me in the traditional sense, maybe I can coax a few written words from him. I grab my phone out of the suitcase I haven’t bothered unpacking yet and sit back down on the bed, folding my legs underneath me.

Me:
Do you know the exact moment I knew I loved you?

I press send and hear the alert on his phone go off in the distance. I can’t see if he’s reading it and typing a response, reading it and deciding I don’t deserve a response, or ignoring me completely. I go with option two. I’m not sure I deserve much of anything right now.

Me:
It was on your birthday. Do you remember what we did?

I’m typing the answer for him when my phone beeps.

Reese:
How could I forget? I never thought I’d get you in my bed.

I blink and send the tears down my cheeks, sniffing loudly. Loud enough to possibly alert him of my crying. But it’s hard not to cry when he’s given me his words. I’ve only been deprived of them for a little over three hours, but it felt like longer. Much longer. As I type my response, movement in the doorway catches my attention.

I’m in his arms before I can speak, before I can tell him I’m sorry, before I can wipe the tears from my face. I’m so drawn to him that even if I wanted to remain on the bed, there’s not a chance in Hell I could. Not when I’ve fucked up and I need him to
feel
how sorry I am. My body trembles as he lifts me off the ground and holds me against him. He moans into my hair, and I cling to him like I’m desperate. Like I’ve been deprived for years of his contact. Like it could be taken away from me at any minute. And that’s exactly how he holds me.

It kills me.

I cry harder, grip him tighter, bury my face so far into his neck it becomes borderline painful. I don’t register that he’s carried me throughout his condo until he crouches down and sits on the couch with me in his arms. I scoot closer until I’m practically in his skin. Until it’s hard to determine where he ends and I begin. He keeps one arm on my legs while the other stays wrapped around my upper body.

I brush my lips against his neck, fisting his shirt in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Reese. Please talk to me. Yell, scream, I don’t care. Just give me something. I can’t stand not hearing your voice.”

His breath warms the side of my face as he tilts his head down. “I wanted you on that trip with me because I can’t stand being away from you. I’m selfish when it comes to you, Dylan. I always will be. I knew there was a possibility you would have to see Bryce. I knew he made you uncomfortable, but I took that risk and asked you to come with me anyway.” He shifts me in his lap so we’re face to face. “And then when I saw how you reacted to him on the plane, it killed me. I put you there. I made you feel that way. He saw you in that dress because of me. He stared at you, thinking the same thing I thought when I saw you in it. Because. Of. Me. I didn’t put you first, and I should have. I don’t deserve to know when you fell in love with me. I don’t deserve to hear
your
voice.”

My heart thunders in my chest as I absorb his words, words I wasn’t expecting to hear. I had prepared myself for a Reese-style flip-out, but not this. How can this man think I wouldn’t follow him anywhere? That any of this is his fault?

“No.” I grab his face with my hands, brushing along the stubble on his jaw. “I wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted me there. Even if you wouldn’t have asked me to go, I would’ve snuck in your suitcase or booked a flight without you knowing. I can’t stand to be away from you either, so don’t you dare act like this addiction is one-sided. I’m just as obsessed and selfish as you are.”

Did I mention how much I hate to lose at anything? The competitive streak in me is fully engaged right now and if Reese thinks he’s got me beat on this, he’s dead wrong. In a battle of who loves who more, I’m taking the prize on this one.

I turn my body completely, straddling his lap and dropping my hands to his shoulders. “Now you listen to me, Carroll. I’m the one who should be feeling like shit here. Me. Not you. I’m the one who’s constantly challenging you with outfits and my incessant need to push your buttons. And I’ll always be like that. You’re marrying someone who will most likely drive you crazy for the rest of your life. Why?”

Why? Shit. Why the hell did I ask that? Good job, Dylan. Let’s make the man you love question the biggest decision of his life.

He opens his mouth to speak but I quickly slap my hand over it. “Ignore that. We’re getting off topic.” I feel his laugh against my hand before dropping it to my lap, allowing the slightest smile to touch my lips. “I should’ve told you I saw Bryce at the club last night. I didn’t because I was afraid of what you would do to him. And I also didn’t want anything to mess up that account.”

“What happened?” The sorrowed look he had moments ago has completely vanished, replaced with a look I’d never want to go up against. He seems to grow in size as he waits for me to recount my evening; that, or I’m suddenly cowering down. Could be a bit of both. “Dylan, do I need to call Brooke and ask her to tell me?”

I narrow my eyes at him and pout. “No. You don’t.” I exhale loudly, grabbing his hands and moving them to my breasts.

He frowns, looking at his hands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m using what I have to my advantage. You need to stay calm, and keeping your hands on my body is like a mild sedative for you.”

“Not for my cock,” he grunts. “And don’t try to distract me. I want to know right now what happened last night. Every fucking detail.”

I slide my hands to his wrists, lightly holding him. He doesn’t make an attempt to move, so I decide to continue. “None of us knew Bryce was at that club until we went to the bar. The bartender gave me a drink and told me Bryce had bought it for me, which really pissed me the hell off. I mean, really. The nerve of that asshole. Like I would ever accept a drink from him.”

“Dylan… focus.”

“Right. Sorry.” I clear my throat and think back to last night. “I went over to him with it and he opened his big stupid mouth, saying it’s been too long since he’s seen me and my dress belonged on his floor.” Reese clenches his teeth and tries to drop his hands but I keep them on me. “I threw my drink in his face and he acted like he liked it, which pissed me off even more. Then he said something about me having a temper and asked if I fuck you angry. Joey tried to step in but I told him to drop it. Juls cussed him out. Brooke did, too. We left right after that.”

Reese closes his eyes, keeping his hands on my breasts. I see his nostrils flare, and the veins in his neck become taut like tight coils. He takes five deep, calming breaths and I move my hands to his chest, flattening them out. His heart hammers against my palm as he slides his hands down and grips my hips tightly. “You should’ve slapped the shit out of him for saying that to you.”

I lift my gaze off his chest and see his eyes beaming at me. “Your eyes are so green right now.” I hold his face, studying the brightness. I’ve never seen anything like the color of Reese’s eyes. Close to emerald, but not quite. “And you’re right, I should’ve. But I couldn’t because he’s a little bitch who would either like it or call the cops on me. Bryce isn’t a man, and he’d never take a slap like one.”

“He won’t be taking a slap from me.”

And this is what I was worried about.
“Reese, you can’t. What about the account? And if you hit him, he could have you arrested.”

He grabs my wrists, pulling my hands off his face. “I’m going to hurt him, Dylan. It’s going to happen.” He pauses, blinking heavily. “This shit better work,” he all but whispers, dropping his gaze away from mine.

“Please,” I beg through a strained voice, ignoring his last comment and only focusing on his threat. “Please, don’t do anything. Beating the shit out of him isn’t worth losing your job or going to jail over.” My lip begins to tremble and the tears come again. “Please, Reese. I can’t have anything happen to you.”
We can’t have anything happen to you.
I drop my head to his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around me as I place a protective hand over my belly. Something
would
happen. This gut feeling I have isn’t going away.

“Shhh. I don’t want you to worry about this, okay? Dylan, I’m a smart guy. You need to trust me. I’m not going to do anything that’s going to get me put in jail. Hey, look at me.”

I keep my head down. “No. I’m ugly-crying right now.”

He laughs into my hair before forcing my head back, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You don’t ugly anything.” I see his eyes drop down to my stomach. My hand is still there and he places his on top of mine and studies it for several seconds. I hear my breathing quicken as his brows furrow. And then he looks back up at me, lips partying slightly, and I see it. The moment it hits him. His free hand cups my face. “Love, are you…”