The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (55 page)

“I can’t wait to see you in that dress. You’re going to look fabulous.”

I take off running, hearing him yelp behind me. He catches up and gives me a flustered look. “If I’m going to look fabulous, I need to burn off the booze we drank this weekend.” I nudge against him and he laughs. “Come on. I’ll race ya around the block.”

After my five-mile run, which leaves my legs feeling like over-cooked noodles, I dash upstairs and hop into my shower. Another reason why I love keeping the loft above my bakery is for this very reason; I don’t have to go back to the condo to get ready for my day after my daily runs. The space still looks the same, seeing as the only thing I moved out of here was half my wardrobe. I actually wouldn’t mind it if Reese agreed to just move in here after the wedding. I know it’s a small space, but I don’t need much. Of course, if we are to have kids, I’m not sure a one-bedroom loft will cut it. Especially if we have a lot of kids, which is what I’m leaning toward. I want a bakery filled with mini-Reeses’. Tons of green-eyed, messy-haired cuties who can taste test my creations all day. And if last night was any inclination as to how he feels about the subject, I’m thinking he won’t be disagreeing to that idea.

I hear my cell phone ring as I wrap a towel around my chest, prompting me to dart out of the bathroom and grab it off my bed before I miss the call. I don’t even register the name on my screen before I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart. And how is my bride-to-be?”

My mom’s voice has me falling backwards onto the bed with an exhaustive grunt.
Damn it to Hell.
I should’ve looked at the name on the screen, or let this call go to voicemail entirely. There’s only one reason why she’s calling me. One topic she wants to discuss. I hear the sound of papers ruffling and know she’s got her trusted notepad ready, full of last-minute changes she’s about to suggest or insist I make. Because with five days until my wedding, we have all the time in the world to change shit around.

I rub my free hand down the side of my face, bracing myself for this phone call that will surely end in her throwing that same notepad across the room.

“I’m good, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m wonderful, dear. Listen, I swung by this quaint little Italian restaurant yesterday in Printer’s Row, and it would be the perfect venue for the rehearsal dinner. And I already checked to make sure they’re available.”

I feel my frustration level quickly rising. “Mom, Reese and I don’t want a rehearsal dinner. I’ve told you this already. We want to run through the ceremony and go out afterwards with our friends.”

My mother gasps as if she’s just now hearing this information for the first time, which is definitely not the case. “Dylan, every wedding has an actual sit-down rehearsal dinner. You can’t skip that detail. It’s crucial.”

“Crucial? You make it sound as important as our wedding vows.”

“It is,” she insists with a firm tone.

I grumble and roll over, rubbing my face into the comforter. The faint smell of citrus calms me down a bit, but not enough to agree to this absurdity. “Mom, this is what Reese and I want. It’s
our
wedding. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with our decision, but it’s final. No dinner. If people get hungry, they can go hit up a drive-thru.”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous, Dylan. A drive-thru? How tacky is that.” The sound of her exhaling loudly fills my ear, followed by the crinkling of paper. “Fine. No dinner. I suppose I’ll have to pack some snacks for your father to munch on during the actual rehearsal. You know how he gets when he goes without a meal.”

I chuckle into the comforter just as the sound of my loft door opening catches my attention. I roll over quickly, keeping the phone against my ear as Reese emerges behind the door. He closes it and I hold my hand out, palm up, silently asking him what he’s doing here. It’s almost six o’clock and he’s usually at the office by now. He smiles his response before he walks toward me. He’s dressed in his usual work attire, a dress shirt, tie, and khakis, and it gets me like it always does. The man does office-wear like no other.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight at the fitting, right?”

More papers rustling comes through the phone before she answers, prompting me to roll my eyes. “Of course. I’d never miss it. Maggie and I will meet you there at 6:30 p.m. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Mom.”

I press end and drop the phone onto the bed before lifting my gaze to Reese. “Handsome, what are you doing here? Don’t you have numbers to crunch?”

He steps around my screen that divides my one large room into two and stops just in front of me. “I do. But I couldn’t stop thinking about something.”

“Oh? My sparkling personality?”

He laughs, reaching out and opening my towel. His eyes linger on my breasts for several seconds before he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Do you think one of the times last night took?”

I watch his eyes shift back down and trail lower. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe. You definitely gave it your all. Is that really what you can’t stop thinking about?” ‘
Cause your body language is screaming something else entirely.
Of course, Reese always looks at me like this. I’m certain that even if we were in church, he’d be able to melt the panties off me right in front of Jesus.

He nods, keeping his eyes on my body. “I want that so bad. I’ve never wanted that, Dylan. You don’t understand. I’ve never thought about having kids before. Hell, I’ve never thought about getting married before.” He leans into me, forcing me to lie back onto the bed. I reach for his tie, wrapping it around my hand as he holds himself above me. “But when I look at you, it’s all I can think about. Marriage. Kids. Everything. I want it all with you. And I don’t want to wait.”

Oh, Reese.
I raise my eyebrows, loosening my grip on his tie. “To marry me or to have kids?”

“To have kids. I’m dealing with the other thing.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth, once and then once again before slowly moving down my body. “Don’t make me wait, love. I need to see you like that.”

I moan as he brushes his lips against my rib cage. “Like what?” I know what. I just want to hear him say it. Because what the hell is hotter than the man you love wanting you to carry his child? Nothing. Especially coming from this man.

“With my baby inside you.”

I reach down and thread my fingers through his hair. “Are you going to be late for work so you can make that happen right now? Because I’m all for another round of baby-making sex with you if that’s where this is headed.”
Suck it up, vagina. You can be sore tomorrow.

“No, that’s not exactly why I’m here. Close, though.” He drops to his knees and drapes my legs over his shoulders. His hands grip my hips and he slides me closer to the edge of the bed, his lip curling up into a sly grin. “I’m going to be late for work because on top of not being able to stop thinking about last night, I also can’t stop thinking about the taste of your pussy. And I was too busy yesterday fucking you all over the condo to get any of it. So lie back, keep your legs open, and give me what’s mine.”

“Jesus. I love when you order me around like that. Seriously, please do that all the time. Just not like to do your laundry or anything.” He swipes up my length with his tongue, prompting me to fist the comforter. “Oh, God.” His fingers dig into my hips as he flicks against my clit in a pulsing rhythm. At the feel of his teeth on my swollen spot, I arch off the bed and dig my heels into his back. “Reese. Jesus Christ.”

“Mmm. You like that. You want it rough?”

I push his head down to silence him. I’m shaking, my thighs convulsing against his cheeks as he ravages me like it’s his first time tasting me. Of course, he always goes at me like this, like he’ll never get enough of me. He alternates between my clit and my pussy, stroking and sucking until he begins to fuck me with his tongue. I can’t take it. I’m begging him to stop, to keep going, to do whatever the hell he wants. I’m a blubbering idiot right now because that’s what his mouth does to me; it wipes all coherent thoughts from my head. And when I feel his finger dip into me briefly before trailing my wetness down to my backside, I lose my mind completely.

“Yes. Oh, God, please. Right there. Right fucking there.”

He buries his face between my legs, humming against me while he presses his finger against my ass. This move of his, one I never thought I’d be into until he was the man doing it, this move makes me see fucking stars when I’m coming. He doesn’t do it all the time, but when he does surprise me with this stellar addition to his orgasm-taking routine, my body vibrates for hours afterwards.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful when you come. Did that feel as good as it looked?”

“Hmm,” I reply, unable to form a proper response as I slowly come down. My lifeless body hangs limp on the bed and over his shoulders as he plants gentle kisses to the inside of my thigh. I look down the length of my body and catch his smile. “Anytime you want to be late for work to do that, please, go for it.”

He stands, licking his lips and holding his hands out to me. “I need to get going. Thanks for my fix.” He pulls me to my feet, the towel covering me falling to the floor.

“You stole my line,” I say against his mouth as he kisses me sweetly. “You good? No hand or mouth action required?”

He reaches down and adjusts himself in his khakis with a wince. “Actually, I think I need some recovery time after last night. Ask me again in eight hours.”

I giggle as I bend over and grab my towel, securing it underneath my arms. “Don’t forget, I have my fitting tonight so I won’t be home until late.”

He eyes me up suspiciously. “Do you really think you need to remind me about anything involving you?” Grabbing the back of my neck, he pulls me into him and plants a kiss to my forehead. “Bye, love.” He releases me, turning and walking toward the door.

I enjoy my spectacular view, nodding in appreciation. The man’s ass is a thing of wonder. Muscle upon muscle; it’s insane, even through his pants. I don’t know what exercises he does to work that perfectly-sculpted entity, but it’s working.

I’m brought out of my fantasy when he opens the door. Lifting my gaze, I see he’s caught me in my obsessive gawking. I’m not ashamed, not in the slightest. I smile the biggest, cheesiest grin I can muster and he laughs. “Bye, handsome. Five days.”

He shakes his head, turning back around. I don’t miss the smile on his face as he disappears behind the door, my words no doubt playing on loop in his mind.

Because they definitely are in mine.

Five days.

After stepping into some jeans and one of my favorite tees I left behind, I slip into my ballet flats and head back into my bathroom. I yawn as I pull my hair up into a messy bun, tugging a few stray pieces out and tucking them behind my ears. After the all-nighter marathon sex, my five-mile run, and the orgasm that just rocked my body, I’m suddenly feeling ready for a nap instead of the day that’s ahead of me. I apply the usual minimal makeup I wear daily and walk back into my living space, grabbing my phone off my bed. It’s almost time for the shop to open and I have a massive amount of baking to do, considering I didn’t get any done this weekend. And if I don’t get started on it now, we’re sure to run out of treats by lunch time.

As I pull out my mixer and set it on my worktop, the doorbell dings and seconds later, Joey comes rushing into the back.

“Extra-large, double shot of caramel for my favorite cupcake,” he sings, depositing my piping-hot cup of coffee on the wood and pulling up a stool to watch me. He’s dressed in one of his favorite baby-blue polo shirts that brings out the color in his eyes, his blond hair still damp from his shower.

“Oh, man, I seriously love you.” I grab it and immediately take a sip, moaning as the hot liquid coats my throat. “Brooke’s supposed to be here any minute and I’ve got a shit-load of baking to do, so unfortunately, you’re going to be in charge of showing her the ropes.”

He keeps all grumbles to himself, taking a sip of his coffee. “Whatever. As long as she doesn’t try to grope me, I’m sure I can tolerate her for eight hours.”

The doorbell dings and we both glance up, seeing Juls emerge in the doorway. She’s chicly dressed in a tight, black dress with sky-high heels, her hair wrapped in an elegant twist. “Morning, lovies.” She glances around the kitchen and her smile disappears. “Where the hell is Brooke?” Joey and I both shrug as I open my bags of flour, pouring a generous amount into my mixing bowl. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. I’m going to kill her.” She pulls her phone out of her purse and stalks out into the main bakery, leaving Joey and me alone with our amused expressions. A flustered Julianna Thomas is not something we’re used to seeing.