The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (65 page)

A loud, piercing noise jolts me awake and upright, and my body immediately goes rigid. I clamp my hands over my ears, muffling the noise as my eyes adjust to the dark room around me. I’m alone, Reese’s side of the bed is completely untouched, and it takes me several seconds to realize what’s happening. That noise. I haven’t heard it before but I know what it is. My shop alarm is going off, and I need to enter the code to stop it. I slide off the bed and run toward the stairs but freeze when my mind draws a conclusion to the reasoning behind the alarm.

Someone’s trying to break in.

I drop to my knees beside the bed and grab the baseball bat I’ve kept there since that psycho bitch threw a brick at my window last summer. Nobody messes with my business, and I am seriously prepared to do damage with this thing.

I run downstairs, keeping a tight grip on the bat as the noise becomes even louder. I go along the far side of the worktop, trying to see through the doorway as my heart rate jumps to a rapid pace. I can’t make out anything and I need to stop the alarm before my ears begin to bleed. Mustering up every ounce of courage I have and keeping the bat at a ready position, I run through the doorway leading into the main bakery.

And then I see him.

He’s punching in numbers on the keypad, his legs staggering underneath his tall frame, struggling to keep him upright. He stumbles, leaning into the glass window before straightening up again. I drop the bat and step closer, keeping my focus on him.

“Reese?”

He doesn’t hear me over the screeching alarm as his fingers continue to enter incorrect codes. I move quickly, putting my hand on his shoulder and stepping next to him. As I press the correct pattern of numbers, the smell of alcohol permeates my senses. The alarm stops abruptly and silence fills the space between us. I turn my head up, seeing unfamiliar eyes staring back at me. Glassy and dilated, they no longer hold the intensity I’m accustomed to. Even the shade of green seems dulled out, lifeless even. Besides that obvious difference, he’s clearly intoxicated, which is not a look I ever imagined seeing on this man. Reese doesn’t get drunk. He’ll have two, three drinks maybe and then cut himself off. I’ve never even seen him tipsy before. And as he slouches against the wall, his heavy eyelids closing and his head hanging low, I’m finding myself questioning if I was the only one hurting earlier.

“Hey. Are you okay?” I ask, reaching up with a gentle hand. I stroke the side of his face and see him turn into me, pressing his lips against my palm. His breath warms my skin and I feel the uneven rhythm of it, the quick burst and then the shuddering inhale he takes before he drops his head again.

“Need you,” he says through a broken voice.

My heart wrenches in my chest cavity as I stare up at this man who looks defeated and beaten down. And also way too drunk to get behind the wheel. “You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Cab. My car’s at The Tavern.”

Relief runs through me before I’m startled once again by the sound of the shop phone ringing. I dash over to it to answer, double backing when I think Reese is going to topple over. After he seems steady, I run to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Miss Sparks? This is Lenox Security calling to check to make sure everything is okay. We received an alert that your security system was triggered.”

“Yes. Yes, it was, but it was an accident. Everything’s okay.”

“Okay, ma’am, we just wanted to make sure. Have a great night.”

“You, too.”

I hang up the phone, rounding the counter and stepping next to Reese. I lift his arm, draping it around my neck and keeping a firm grip on his wrist. My other arm wraps around his waist and pulls him off the wall. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Normally when I’m this close to him, I’m relishing in his fresh, citrus scent and setting up camp in the crook of his neck. But right now, he smells like he’s hit up every bar in South Side and for the first time since I met him; the urge to nuzzle him is absent. He maneuvers himself with me across the bakery, but I’m doing most of the work as we make it inch by inch. It’s a slow effort and when I finally lift my head and size up the stairs we’ll have to tackle, my grip on him tightens and a feeling of determination fuels me. I look over at him as I position us at the first step. “You need to help me, okay? It’s not that many steps.”

His lips twitch into a smile before he drops his head to the side, bumping it against mine. “You’re so pretty.”

I chuckle, lurching forward and trying to bring him with me. “Thanks. Come on. Lift your feet.”

“I stare at you sometimes when you don’t see me. I like doing that.”

“Oh, yeah?” I sound surprised, but I’m not. I know Reese stares at me. I always feel his eyes on me when he does it. And I like that game we play, where I pretend I don’t notice and let him watch me. He does the same when I partake in my own obsessive gazing. I know he sees me. His lip will twitch or he’ll coincidentally adjust himself as I’m studying him, drawing my attention off his face.

I’m on to his tactics.

He lifts his left, then his right foot, putting us both on the first step. “I stared at you on my phone tonight. I didn’t really like it.”

We make it a few more steps as he leans further into me, causing me to let go of his wrist and grip the handrail instead. “Yeah? Let’s get you upstairs and then you can tell me why you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t like it, Dylan.”

“I know. Come on. Just a little more. We’re almost there.” We get two steps away from the door when Reese suddenly drops to his knees, pulling me down with him. “Reese! Hold… what are you doing?”

He turns awkwardly until he’s sitting on the step. His head drops between slouched shoulders, and I see the slight shake of his hands as they hang over his knees. I slide next to him, placing a hand on his thigh. He lifts his head and turns to me, the worry in his eyes evident. “I can’t just stare at pictures of you. It’s not enough.”

“Well, I’m right here. You don’t have to stare at pictures. Let’s go upstairs and you can look at me all you want.” I go to stand when his hand grabs my wrist, halting me.

“I watch you all the time.” I lower myself back down as he drops his gaze, staring off at nothing. “If I’m not touching you, I want to be.”

“I know the feeling,” I interject, gaining his attention immediately.

His face hardens. “No. You don’t.” I open my mouth to argue but stop myself when I see the conviction in his eyes. “It’s constant, Dylan. You invade every thought I have even when they have nothing to do with you. I’m not just in love with you. I’m kind of obsessed. And the thought of somebody else watching you the way I do, or needing to touch you like I do…” He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m terrified.”

I scoot closer, crawling into this lap. His eyes open and refocus on mine as I cradle his face in my hands. “He barely touched me. I’d never let him or anyone else put their hands on me the way you do.” He tries to shake his head but I stop him. “You don’t need to be scared. I got him good. And I’ll do worse if he tries it again.”

His hands grab my wrists and pull down, removing my grip. “I’m not scared he’ll touch you. I’m scared of what I’ll do when I find him.”

I’m familiar with that feeling. It consumed me until Reese took it away. Now it’s my turn to comfort him.

I look down at his hand resting in my lap. “I used to be scared of what you would do to him. It’s why I didn’t tell you about seeing him at the club. But then you told me something that took away that worry. Do you remember?” He registers my questions with a slight shake of his head. I shift in his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders and apply gentle pressure. “You said you were a smart guy, and you would never do anything that could get you into trouble. And I knew that was true. I also knew you would never do anything to hurt me. And getting yourself taken away from me because of what you want to do to Bryce would hurt me. You’re not the only one who couldn’t survive on just pictures to stare at.” He rakes a quick hand through his hair, leaving it a right mess. “Is this why you went out drinking?”

He frowns. “I hated what you said to me. About me working with Bryce after knowing how he made you feel. It killed me to hear you say that. Because I know how it looks. I fucking know. And I just wanted to stop thinking about everything.” He squints, flattening his hand against his temple. “It didn’t help.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just angry because I thought you were blaming me for what happened.”

He grabs my face with both hands and forces me closer, putting us inches apart. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just so fucking frustrated that this shit is taking so long. But I’m close. I’m so fucking close, Dylan. It’s almost over, okay?”

I don’t question what he’s saying to me. I know he won’t tell me anyway, and I don’t want to focus on this anymore. I slide off his lap, standing and reaching for him. “Come on. Let’s go lie down.”

We make it up the stairs, me still supporting a good amount of his weight. I shuffle him toward the bed, dropping his arm from around my neck and giving him a light shove. “Go ahead and get on the bed. I’ll be right there.”

He grabs my waist with both hands, pulling me against his chest. “Come with me.”

I laugh against his dress shirt before turning my gaze up to him. Tender eyes meet mine. “I am. I just need to get you some water.”

He grumbles incoherently before letting me go. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it with some tap water and toss a few ice cubes in. As I round the counter, I spot Reese’s long legs hanging off the edge, the rest of him face-planted in the middle of bed. I set the glass on my nightstand and pull his shoes off, dropping them on the floor.

“Roll over, handsome,” I say, kneeling next to him and nudging his side. He moans but doesn’t move. Not in the slightest. He’s dead weight, and I can’t help but recognize the fact that even a passed-out, face-down Reese is better-looking than any other guy put in this scenario. I shove my hands underneath his body and push as hard as I can, rolling him onto his back. Eyes closed. Hair a right, sexy mess. I take a moment to appreciate the sweet look on his face, which will most likely be nowhere in sight tomorrow if the hangover I’m predicting decides to show up.

His heavy, even breathing fills the air as I tug off his khakis and socks. I loosen his tie, unbuttoning his dress shirt and placing them with his pants. I grab the pillows and tuck one under his head, knowing full well there is no way I’ll be able to shift his body up the bed to lie how we usually do. So we’re going with this arrangement tonight.

Placing my pillow next to his, I get settled on my side and tuck my hands under my chin. I stare at his profile until my eyelids become too heavy to hold open anymore.

Normally when I wake up after having passed out next to Reese, I’m used to seeing an empty side of the bed next to me. He’s always up before me during the week, getting in his own workout at the gym before he heads into the office. And even though he came home drunk last night, I still expected to wake up alone. He’s so dedicated, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he pushed through it with the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. But before I even open my eyes when my alarm goes off, I know he’s next to me.

I’ll always feel his presence before I see him.

I sit up after turning off my alarm, spotting him lying on his side. That’s also different. Reese is usually sprawled on top of me when I wake up, his head pressed against my chest and his long legs tangled with mine. I decide to let him sleep while I run with Joey. If Reese is sleeping in, he must need it.

After putting on my workout clothes and stepping into my Nike’s, I press my lips to his forehead, hearing him moan softly into his pillow. I make my way downstairs and see Joey’s tall frame stretching on the other side of the glass.

“You are not going to believe who I ran into last night,” he says as he pulls his arm across his chest.

I lock the door behind me and tuck my key into the pocket on the inside of my shorts. “Who?”

“Your loser ex-boyfriend.”

I pull my knee up to my chest, feeling my muscle tighten. “Get the hell out of here. Where?” I haven’t seen Justin since he made the mistake of coming to my bakery to apologize for putting his hands on me last summer. I was in no mood for him or his apology, and Reese just so happened to be there. I’ve never seen my stupid ex look so terrified before.