Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  “So, I’ll see you Monday?”

  “...I lost my illusions in a black rain of bitterness - now what do you see in my eyes? How can you still love me? How can I be tender? ...”

  ― John Geddes

  CHAPTER TEN

  REAGAN’S EYES FLICKED open two minutes before her alarm went off. She didn’t feel the seize of panic in her stomach upon waking anymore, though the dreams that had been haunting her for weeks were becoming more vivid.

  As remnants of the memory dissipated, the man lying next to her came into focus. The tousled chestnut locks she’d been remembering faded into a dirty blond, and a night’s worth of stubble covered his angular jaw.

  Reaching for her cell phone still on the nightstand, she glanced at the time and quickly disabled the alarm before it could wake him up. The last thing she needed was an audience to her walk of shame, and she was already mentally kicking herself for staying the night.

  Gingerly lifting the sheet, she slipped out of the bed and tiptoed around the room collecting her things. Then she dressed quietly, grateful that she’d gone out the night before in a pair of jeans instead of something more conspicuous. Tight dresses at seven a.m. were a little too call girl for her taste.

  Her heels were nowhere to be found, so she dropped to her knees and crawled along the hardwood floors to search underneath the bed, freezing every time it creaked and checking to make sure Tom…err…Ted? Travis? Well, to make sure whatever his name was stayed dead to the world.

  The damn things must’ve been kicked off in haste, because she had to flatten herself and wriggle her way beneath the bed to reach them. As she tried to slide back out, her head knocked against the frame in a loud thump, and she stopped breathing while the man above groaned and tossed about before becoming silent again.

  A string of curses ran through her mind as she pushed herself out and got on all fours before peeking up over the edge of the bed to make sure she was in the clear for a getaway. Once she was satisfied, she got to her feet and didn’t look back. As she shut his apartment door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into her heels. She wouldn’t be making an overnight mistake like that again.

  Pulling out her cell phone, she opened her calendar and groaned when she realized Bill had set up an eight o’clock meeting that morning. She wouldn’t even have time now to run home.

  “Great,” she muttered, tucking her phone into her jeans pocket. If she hurried, she could freshen up at the office, and, luckily, she always kept a couple of business suits there just in case. Though by “just in case,” that usually meant in case she spilled coffee down her shirt, not in case of a one-night stand.

  Once outside, she hailed a cab and hopped inside before pulling out her small makeup bag and wiping away the flakes of mascara under her eyes. No amount of powder would conceal the fact that her late nights were starting to catch up with her. Those had to stop. She didn’t let herself think about what had prompted her actions, but deep down she knew that night in Evan’s office three weeks ago had left an indelible mark. One she wasn’t ready to admit to herself and one she sure as hell wouldn’t ever let him see.

  After that evening, he’d seemed…different. Less anxious, like the coil of tension that was wrapped so tightly inside him had unraveled. If Evan was regaining some semblance of control in his life, it seemed as though hers was beginning to spin out of control.

  Reagan stared out the window as the cab maneuvered through the traffic. She knew she would have to eventually deal with what she had allowed to happen that night, but in the back of her mind she was aware that wasn’t the only thing she had to face when it came to Evan James. When Bill had finally told her he was ready to bring Evan in, after months of keeping tabs on the man, she’d thought she was ready to handle it. How wrong was I?

  The cab pulled to an abrupt stop at the curb of the building that housed Kelman Corporations, and she fished through her purse for some cash. Pulling out a couple of bills, she handed them over and climbed out before shutting the door behind her. She glanced down at her phone again and noticed she had a few minutes to spare. Brushing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, she held her head high and walked toward the front entrance.

  There, see, no one will be the wiser.

  Believing she was home free, she didn’t notice until she was reaching for the handle that a person had stepped in beside her.

  “Let me get that,” a deep, familiar voice said as he reached out to open the door before she could. Inwardly, she groaned as Evan gave her a once-over, and a knowing grin crossed his handsome face. Before he could say anything, she held up her hand.

  “Don’t say a word,” she grumbled.

  Striding past him, she made her way over to the elevator and punched the up button until the doors opened. Stepping inside, she moved to the back corner and leaned against the wall, watching as Evan balanced the tray of coffees in his left hand and stepped inside to press their floor with his other. When the doors slid shut he faced her and gave a mock frown.

  “So, you don’t want your caffeine jolt?” He took a step closer and leaned against the wall beside her. She could smell the strong scent of coffee wafting from the cups, and she almost…almost told him no. Then she turned and caught his you-know-you-want-it look.

  “Fine, give it to me.”

  He held the tray out to her, and when she saw the cup with “BOSS” written on the side, she had to fight back her own smile. She reached for it, and just before she could take it, he moved the tray away and told her in a most serious tone, “You could be nicer. I waited in a pretty long line for this beverage.”

  Reagan narrowed her eyes at him and then glanced to the cups. “You’re being rather impertinent to your boss, don’t you think?”

  The half-quirk that curled Evan’s lip was becoming familiar, and it was a trait she was discovering she enjoyed seeing. He tilted the tray around and looked down at the cup and then back at her.

  “Oh, no. That one’s mine. Seemed like I had a better chance with the barista if I looked important.”

  Raising a brow, she reached out to grab the other cup in the tray. As she brought it to her lips, her eyes caught the black marker that had “Bob” scrawled across the side, and she gave him a pointed look. Evan shrugged.

  “What? It’s not very smart to make myself look important and then order a coffee for a woman. So, today, you’re Bob, and I’m the boss.”

  “Could’ve at least given me a good one, like Jackson,” she said, pouting before taking a small sip. When the creamy espresso hit her tongue, she looked up in surprise. “How did you know I like—”

  “A grande soy wet cappuccino? I pay attention.” He nodded at the drink in her hand. “You know, most women like a little flavor in theirs. Mocha or some vanilla shit, but you…you like it straight and to the point, don’t you?”

  “I like my kicks fast and hard, and that includes my caffeine.”

  Evan whistled as the doors opened, and he followed her out to the lobby, where they greeted Amy at the front desk before heading to Reagan’s office. Halfway inside she heard her door shut and knew Evan was there, per their agreement, to give her the rundown on his latest therapy session. The only problem was that this morning she needed to…well, change her clothes.

  Putting her coffee on the corner of her desk, she turned back to face him where he stood.

  “Okay, look. Clearly I need to change and get ready for this meeting with Bill in”—she took a quick look at the clock on her wall—“fifteen minutes. So why don’t you take this chair and turn it around?”

  Evan stopped in the center of her office. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Just turn that chair there…oh for the love of—” She stepped forward and circled the chair around toward him and pointed. “Sit.”

  The look on Evan’s face was something caught between shock and amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He walked to the chair and placed the briefcase down on the f
loor. “Are you sure I can’t just stand here and watch?”

  “While we talk about your sexual addiction therapy?” Her voice rose a couple of octaves. “I don’t think so. Now sit.”

  Obliging, he sat down, shaking his head, and she yanked open her desk drawer and pulled out one of her “emergency” skirts and a camisole. As she unbuttoned her jeans, she paused and called out, “I don’t hear anything, Evan.”

  “Sorry, I was visualizing. I didn’t hear a zipper yet,” he said, and started to swivel in her direction until her shrieks halted him. Laughing, he turned back around. “So this week in the adventures of Evan James and Dr. Glover, we discussed masturbatory practices.”

  Reagan stumbled into her desk as she laughed with her pants down around her ankles. She held on to the edge while she pulled off one pant leg at a time. “His or yours? Comparing notes now?”

  “For a guy that’s probably heard it all, I think I shocked him.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “His eyebrow twitched. That’s the biggest reaction I’ve seen from him in the past three weeks. I almost fell off the couch.”

  She snorted as she stepped into her skirt, tugging it up and over her hips before pulling her wrinkled blouse over her head. “So what did the wise doctor say? Is this the part where you swear yourself to celibacy?”

  Reagan studied the back of Evan’s head and found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer. Why this particular answer was so important to her she didn’t want to analyze. But it was.

  “Well, he told me I shouldn’t set goals for myself that I know I’ll break, because that just leads to a cycle of feeling like a failure. And let’s face it…I’m pretty sure celibacy just might kill me. You remember how I got last time and then came in here with—”

  “Yes, yes,” she cut in, not wanting him to remind her of that night. “I remember. So what did he advise instead?”

  “Can I turn around yet?” Evan asked as his head turned in her direction. Luckily for her, she had her clothes all in order.

  “So glad you waited for my reply.”

  Her dry response amused him as his hazel eyes ran over her. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to catch you midway.”

  “Focus, Evan,” she instructed, and stepped into her heels. “What did he tell you?”

  Evan stood and spun the chair around before sitting back down in it facing her.

  “He said that I’m allowed to practice sex in a healthy, normal environment.”

  She frowned at him as she walked around to the front of her desk and leaned back against it, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I thought we were discussing masturbating?”

  “You said that with such a serious face.”

  That comment had her lips twitching. “Well, it’s a serious topic, and you still haven’t answered me.”

  He unbuttoned his suit jacket, almost as if the conversation was starting to make him uncomfortable, and then replied, “His answer was much the same. He just advised me to cut back and keep it tame. And no crazy shit.”

  “No crazy shit,” she repeated with a smile. “And do you think that seems…doable?”

  His gaze drifted down over her, and she realized the thin fabric of the camisole was probably not covering enough.

  “Not particularly at the moment,” he said when his eyes met hers again.

  Her heart stuttered in her chest at his words, but she managed an eye roll as she went over to the coat rack and grabbed a suit jacket off the hanger, slipping it on before turning around. She was finding it imperative to keep a strong facade when it came to Evan James, because the man was charming enough to make you forget you didn’t want to get involved.

  “Your therapist seems to be handling you well, from what I can see.”

  Evan stood from the chair and turned to where she was standing. “Let’s be clear—he’s not handling me. Even I’m not that desperate.”

  “Evan, would you stop with the jokes?”

  “Okay,” he relented with a sigh as he bent down to retrieve his briefcase. “He’s been good so far. He doesn’t expect miracles, and he seems to know what he’s doing.”

  Reagan pursed her lips as she thought that over, and then gave a quick nod. “I agree. You seem…much more relaxed since seeing him.”

  As Evan walked toward her, she lifted her head and held his stare.

  “I think we both know that’s only a small part of why I have some self-restraint lately,” he said, that devilish gleam sparking in his eyes.

  One thing she knew deep down in her soul was that if she didn’t keep a tight hold of her control around this man, she would likely get sucked inside the dark vortex he seemed to spiral down into. While it would be pleasurable in the moment, Reagan knew it would not end well. And she’d become rather fond of their growing friendship.

  Ignoring his insinuations, she gave him a pat on the arm. “That’s nice. Great chat. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to get to.”

  Did I just fucking pat him like my grandpa? Jesus.

  Evan chuckled, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Thanks for listening there, Reagan.”

  She walked around him to get her coffee and a notepad, and waved a hand up beside her as if she were too busy. “I listened, but now it’s time to go. So shoo—you have work to do, right?”

  As he reached for the door handle, he made sure to point out, “Well, you are the boss.”

  “Not that it says so on my cup,” she threw back at him.

  “Okay then…Bob. One more thing,” he said, giving her one last perusal. “I didn’t hear you put on anything underneath that skirt.” When she blinked at him in surprise, he continued, “I told you. I pay attention.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SO…BOB,” BILL said as he glanced down at the cup in Reagan’s hand before easing into one of the leather chairs in his office. “Do I need to update your personnel file? I want you to know that we fully support any kind of…change you may be going through.”

  Reagan took a seat opposite her boss and crossed her legs before smoothing a hand over her skirt. “Believe it or not, this is courtesy of Evan.”

  “And Evan is under the misguided belief that your name is Bob?”

  “No, he was trying to pick up the local barista and figured his buddy Bob wouldn’t be a cock block.”

  “So I take it therapy is going well?”

  Nodding, she said, “Seems to be helping. He’s pretty open about what goes on in those sessions, and he has no problem telling me every lurid detail.”

  “Should I be worried about that?”

  Hell yes. “Not at all. He’s an interesting guy, and I can tell he’s trying.” Trying to constantly get in my pants.

  Bill drummed his fingers over the arm of the chair. “That’s all we can ask for, then, isn’t it? But you let me know if he tries any funny business with you, okay?”

  Reagan’s brow winged up, and she laughed. “Funny business? What are we in, the 1950s? Trust me, I can handle Evan.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m worried about…”

  “Bill, you have too much to worry about already. This is not something to concern yourself with.”

  Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed his forehead.

  “When we agreed to this, it was with the clear understanding that you would stay out of trouble. I promised your—”

  “I know,” she interrupted. “I plan to stay away from trouble. I don’t want my father to kill you. I kind of like you.”

  “That’s comforting, but I’m being serious. Something seems a bit off with you lately, and I just want to make sure this situation with Evan isn’t affecting you. Personally or professionally. We’ve always been open and honest with each other, so if there’s anything you need to talk about, you know I’m here, right?”

  Lifting her drink to her lips, she took a small sip and then another as she pushed back the guilt that was trying
to force itself out in confession. She had always told Bill everything. Hell, he was practically her second father, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that things with Evan had gone far differently than they’d planned.

  “I’m fine, really. Stop worrying. You know if I had an issue, I would tell you, but things are going well, and Evan’s doing good work. You’re happy with his job performance so far, right?”

  Bill sat back and clasped his hands together. “Well, yes. I have no complaints with the work he’s doing, and I know a lot of that has to do with your supervision.”

  “No, that has to do with him. You were right about bringing him on—he’s got great instincts.” Reagan paused for a moment and ran a painted nail around the lip of her coffee cup. “Maybe you need to have a little more faith in him.”

  “Professionally, that’s not a problem. In regards to his personal life, the jury’s still out. But I have high hopes for Evan, as I do for you. Be careful, Rae.”

  “Always,” she said, standing up from her chair and leaning over to kiss the top of his head.

  As she walked toward the door, she only hoped she could live up to his high expectations.

  * * *

  REAGAN SWUNG OPEN the door of Cafe 24 and rushed inside, scanning the tables until she spotted the familiar head of auburn curls. She quickly made her way over to her friend and bent down to give her a hug before taking a seat in the booth across from her. “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up in a meeting.”

  “I’ve got a martini, my phone, and it’s a fabulous sixty-five degrees outside, so you being late is really not something that’s bothering me. Although I am getting hungry, and we all know how I get when I haven’t eaten.”

  Reagan looked around for a waiter and waved him over. “Please get this woman a menu before she hurts someone in here.”

  After grabbing a couple of spare menus off the table behind them, he handed them both one before scurrying off.