Home > Books > Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(105)

Addicted to You (Addicted #1)(105)

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

Lo shakes his head and cups the glass tighter. “Nothing.”

I frown and try to push away the hurt from his unwillingness to share. The rejection stings, but it may just be the wrong time. He catches my despondence and looks back towards the bathrooms to make sure Ryke and Connor aren’t returning soon. Then he twists his body towards me. Our knees knock together, and I have a sudden urge to lean in closer, to intertwine our legs and feel his lean muscles against my body. This is serious, I remind myself, pushing away those selfish thoughts.

“It was about my mom,” Lo confesses. All dirty images evaporate, being replaced by sheer concern. “Somehow, he found out I contacted her.” Lo pauses and rubs his lips in deep thought. “He told me that she wanted nothing to do with me.” My chest constricts. “He told me that she doesn’t deserve to think about me or to even hear my voice.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. “He said she was a fucking cunt.”

I cringe.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Lil, I think…I think I agree with him.” Wrinkles crease his forehead in utter confusion as he struggles to make sense of his warring emotions.

“Your mother left you,” I say. “It’s okay to be angry at her. It doesn’t make you him.”

His lips press together as he processes my words, and I wish I had more to offer. He leans forward and kisses me lightly on the temple, a small thank you, before he turns around on his stool and flags down the bartender for another drink.

She pours bourbon in a Riedel glass and slides it into his hand.

“How long before you want to go to the bathroom?” I ask.

“I don’t know. My bladder is pretty big. I could go at least another couple hours,” Lo says. He smiles into his glass, and I give him a sharp look.

He hooks his foot under the rung of my stool and slides it forward. Oh wow. My hip knocks into his and he snakes an arm around my waist, melding me to his side. This is kind of nice. I feel his hand run up underneath my shirt and rub the soft skin on my back.

I start dreaming about having sex right here. Lo taking me across the bar in a sultry heat. Sex on a bar.

It’d be like our addictions making love.

His lips tickle my ear. Back to reality. “What are you thinking?”

I think he knows because he smiles and nibbles my ear.

“Get a room,” Connor exclaims, sidling up beside me while Ryke sits down beside Lo.

“Or better yet,” Ryke says, “a car.”

“How about Connor’s limo?” Lo asks with a smile. “Do you think your driver would mind?”

“I would mind,” Connor tells him. “You’re charming, Lo, but not enough to make me want to sit in your—”

“Stop.” I cringe and cover my ears. Gross. Guy-talk. No.

All three of them laugh and I wave down the bartender. “What do you want?” Lo asks me.

“Just a beer.”

He nods and lets me order for myself. I slide my fake ID to the bartender, and she hands me a Blue Moon.

“You don’t want to go in those bathrooms,” Connor tells Lo. “They’re disgusting. I think I might call the CDC when we leave. You need a hazmat suit just to walk in there.”

Lo grins at me and raises an eyebrow. No! Connor is just being over dramatic.

“You rarely venture into smoky clubs,” I tell Connor. “I’m sure you’re just not used to a place that doesn’t have a bathroom attendant and complimentary mints after you pee.”

“I’ve lowered myself to these standards before, but there are some places no human being should go.”

Lo smiles into another big gulp from his drink. I let the issue drop but plan to sneak into the restrooms later to make my own conclusions.

After a couple more drinks, Lo starts asking Ryke questions and I struggle to hear over the cacophony of sounds: drunken college students, newly blasting music, and Connor practically yelling into his phone as he talks to my sister.

“Yeah! I’d wear a peacoat!”

What? Is Rose asking him for fashion advice? The world really has gone mad.

He grimaces. “I can’t hear you! Hold on!” He presses his palm to the speaker. “Lily, can you save my seat?” Before I can agree he’s hopping off the stool and charging towards the door. Connor Cobalt doesn’t push his way through bodies; he saunters into the masses and waits with an impatient scowl before people part and make man-made paths for him. I smile in amusement and turn back to place my coat on the stool.