Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  “So it wasn’t because my father found out about you two?”

  “Not entirely. Though he wasn’t exactly pleased when he found out.”

  Evan rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand. Bill, the friendly, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Bill, wasn’t as innocent as he would’ve guessed. His mind was spinning with the revelations, but before he could try to fill in the gaps in the story, Bill continued.

  “I guess there are a few more questions you’d like answered. Yes, I still talk to your mom. I was fond of her then; I’m fond of her now. She’s curious about her son, always has been, which I’m sure you can understand. You don’t check in with her much.”

  “So you’re spying on me?”

  “Looking out for you would be more like it.”

  Evan scoffed. “Let me guess, you were the one behind my first car? The scholarships I received for college? You’re the one who’s saving me from rock bottom by giving me a job. Thanks. Really. I appreciate you throwing money my way like a fairy fucking godfather, but did it ever occur to you that maybe a little moral support would be more useful?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Some strange man comes to you when you’re ten, wanting to be a father figure to you? I helped you in the only way I knew how. You were in good hands with your grandparents. Your scholarships were all you. Hell, this job is all you. You want to blame any personal problems on anyone else, and I’ll slap that notion right down. Be responsible for your own choices, Evan, and don’t blame the way you were raised on the effects of bad decisions.”

  “Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s made some really bad decisions.”

  Bill pursed his lips and nodded. “And I pay for that every day. Maybe it’s time we both start making some good decisions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Reagan. She’d be one of the best decisions you ever made, son.”

  Fuck, he’s right about that one. Looks like he’s not done looking out for me yet.

  * * *

  REAGAN CHEWED THE inside of her cheek as she stared across the table at the stoic therapist. He hadn’t said a word in the past five minutes, and she knew that because she’d been watching the clock just over his shoulder.

  Cagey bastard.

  She raised her teacup to her lips and took a sip, trying to remember the manners her mother had instilled within her and the fact that she was a lady. Otherwise, she’d have dumped it on the table, stood up, and demanded he tell her what the fuck he knew. But…she was a lady. And she was going to have to weave her way through this conversation as though walking through a maze.

  Placing the cup back on the saucer, she settled into the chair, hoping for nonchalance as she racked her mind on how to bring up a topic she knew he wasn’t allowed to discuss.

  “So,” she started, and that damn eyebrow of his arched up, halting her before she began. “You’re kind of intimidating. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Intimidating?” Dr. Glover said. “I have been called many things in this house, some that aren’t polite to repeat in front of a lady, but intimidating isn’t one.” He leaned to the side, placed his teacup down, and then rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his chin. “Why do you feel intimidated? You aren’t a client of mine. You can say whatever you please.”

  Reagan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was such a…doctor. And it was clear he was used to talking his clients in a circle until they confessed, admitted, or whatever they did when they came to see him.

  “Look, I know you can’t tell me anything, but I don’t want to be…oh, I don’t know, leaping the hell off this bridge with someone who might not jump with me.” She stopped, thought about that, and then shook her head. “Okay, no, that sounds wrong. I don’t want Evan…I mean your client to jump off buildings with me. But metaphorically speaking—”

  “I like metaphors,” the doctor interrupted.

  “Do you? Oh good. Well, umm…let’s just pretend something for a minute, is that okay? Surely you role-play in here all the time.”

  When Dr. Glover’s lips twitched, Reagan wanted to kick her own ass. Why did everything sound ridiculous coming out of her mouth right now? Because you’re nervous. A nervous fool in love.

  “Say you were a vet, and I brought my dog to see you. But I’ve never had a dog before, and I want to know what brand of dog food to feed him. I ask you what you feed your dog instead of asking you what you recommend, because I know you can’t flat-out tell me and show bias. So then you would say…” She knew the expression on her face must have been stuck somewhere between hopeful and ridiculous, but she figured what the hell at this stage.

  The doctor sat back in his chair and nodded as he seemed to ponder her question. “I see. Well, I would feed my dog Science Diet dog food.”

  “No, no.” Reagan sighed, waving her hand in the air. “I don’t actually mean—”

  “Ms. Spencer?”

  Reagan shut her mouth. He was probably about to tell her to quit rambling about dog food, and get the hell out of his house.

  “If I had a daughter, and not a dog, and a certain young man came into her life that she wanted approval to pursue, I would tell her to follow her heart but use her head.”

  Reagan sat forward on the seat and felt as though the heart that was really under discussion, her own, was about to thump right out of her chest.

  “So you think there’s hope here—I mean, hope for your daughter?”

  Dr. Glover gave her a smile and stood. When she did the same, he held out his hand to her and she took it. His warm fingers wrapped around hers, a comfort in his grip, and when he said, “There’s always hope,” Reagan believed him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  6 weeks later…

  “SEE YOU NEXT week, Evan.”

  Evan tossed his empty Styrofoam cup into the trash can situated in the corner of the Baldwin Arts Center’s meeting room and looked over his shoulder. Carl Thomas, the leader of the Sex Addiction Recovery meetings held every Saturday morning, gave him an encouraging smile.

  “Thank you for sharing your story this morning,” the man continued. “It’s a brave thing to do, and it will help the others with their struggle.”

  “That’s what these are for, right? I’ll even bring the cookies next week.” Evan’s lips tipped up in a half-smile, and he nodded a goodbye before making his way out of the room.

  It hadn’t taken any prodding from anyone for him to commit to attending the weekly meetings with his fellow sex-obsessed peers. Though in the past few weeks the destructive urge he’d had over the past year or so hadn’t been present, he wasn’t deluding himself that he was cured or ever would be. But he was trying. There was too much at stake for him to fuck things up—literally.

  And as he pushed through the glass exit door, the most important reason came into view.

  Dressed casually in black spandex workout pants and a hoodie with her long brunette hair pulled up in a ponytail, Reagan was a fucking vision. She always was. Always took his breath away whenever she came into view.

  She was snapping away with her camera, pulling it back every so often to adjust a setting. Evan looked across the street at the objects of her focus. An older gentleman was handing money to a hot dog vendor, ignoring what seemed like protests from the woman beside him.

  “And what’s their story?” Evan asked as he strolled her way, hands in his pockets.

  Reagan looked up at him and grinned before turning her attention back across the street. “He’s a kindly multimillionaire, who doesn’t dress like one, and he goes around paying for a random New Yorkers’ food at the vendors he passes while he’s out.”

  “Sounds like he’s racking up some good karma.”

  “Mhmm, it does.” Reagan put down the camera, letting it hang from the strap around her neck as Evan wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in for a kiss.

  “I missed you,” he said against her lips.

  She laughed and pushed him away. “A whole hour. Must’ve been tortur
e.”

  “It was. I’m starving.”

  Reagan narrowed her eyes at his double meaning. “Don’t you dare. You just got out of a meeting, and we’ve already made plans.” She reached down for the picnic basket and tote bag at her feet, but Evan was quicker.

  “That’s what I meant. I’m starving for food. Get your thoughts out of the gutter, Ms. Spencer, there are children around.” He took her hand in his and gave her a wink. “Are we thinking Bryant Park today?”

  Reagan flashed her warm smile at him. “You lead, and I’ll follow.”

  “Those are dangerous words, don’t you think?”

  She gave a soft laugh as they started to walk. “Maybe at one time. But I’m feeling pretty confident these days.”

  Evan squeezed her fingers and grinned. “I don’t think you’ve ever lacked confidence, Reagan.” He leaned down and put his lips by her ear. “From the very first night we went home together, you’ve matched me move for move.”

  She turned her head, and when their lips brushed she flicked her tongue along his lower one. “I thought you were hungry for food?”

  Evan nipped at her lip and then pulled his head away so they could keep walking to the park, but not before he told her, “I’ve always thought it was a shame to eat dessert last. Maybe we could—”

  “No, no, no, Mr. James. We are eating this picnic I slaved over.”

  “Umm…I’m pretty sure you picked it all up on your way here.”

  Reagan stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you insinuating I can’t cook?”

  “Not at all. I am stating matter-of-factly that you don’t.”

  She pouted at him, and he couldn’t help but lean down and take those sweet lips with his own, and when he pulled up he heard himself say, “But I love you anyway.”

  * * *

  REAGAN FROZE WHERE she was on the bustling street. People were rushing past her, and cars were zipping in and out of the crazy New York traffic, and all she could do was stare wide-eyed at the man looking down at her. She licked her lips, and then moved her mouth, trying to get some words to come out, but when a broad smile crossed Evan’s gorgeous face, she knew she hadn’t misheard. The charming bastard had actually admitted he loved her.

  She tilted her head to the side. “Did you really just tell me you loved me for the first time on the back end of an insult?”

  Evan’s eyebrow winged up as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that that was what he’d done, and then he chuckled. “Maybe. Are you going to try and deny you loved hearing it?”

  “You sure are confident today, aren’t you, Mr. James?”

  They started walking again, and he swung their hands as he looked at her, and Reagan’s lips itched to break into the biggest grin of her life. But by God, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction just yet.

  “I don’t hear you denying it.”

  “And you won’t,” she told him. “But you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

  He hummed and brought their hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss there. “Little Jenny Spencer loves me.”

  “Shut up, Evan.”

  “I think she’s always loved me.”

  “Jesus, really?”

  “Yep, really.”

  She tugged on his hand, leading him along the path into Bryant Park, and said, “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”

  Searching out a spot for them to sit, they made their way over to an open space on the inside of the green. She spread out the small blanket she’d brought with her, and as she knelt down on it, Reagan watched him do the same opposite her. He hadn’t spoken since they’d gotten there, and as he rummaged through the basket, pulling out the sandwiches she’d picked up from the corner bakery, she knew he was waiting—waiting for her to say it.

  “Evan?” she said, as she reached into the canvas tote bag she had and felt around for the bottles of water in there. He looked up at her, his hazel eyes full of expectation.

  “Yes, Reagan?”

  She curled her fingers around the top of the bottle, pulled it out, and tossed it to him. He caught it and glanced down at the label. Aqua Cool. The product they’d agreed to disagree on rather spectacularly all those weeks ago.

  “Now that is a fancy-looking bottle of water,” he said, turning it in his hands.

  “Screams ‘buy me,’ don’t you think?”

  “Eh, I wouldn’t go that far. I would’ve been just as happy with a chea—ow.”

  Reagan swatted him again. “Don’t you dare say you’d be happy with a cheaper brand, or I’ll dump my expensive water all over that gorgeous head of hair.”

  Evan looked down at the bottle again. “On second thought, it is excellent packaging.” He opened it and took a swig. “And an undeniable, thirst-quenching taste that anyone would be crazy not to pay an extra dollar for.”

  She gave him a smug smile. “Thank you. I’m glad you see that I was right. Go ahead and say it. Yes, Reagan, you’re a genius. I should just bow down now and—”

  Evan tackling her to the ground had the breath rushing out of her lungs. He pinned her in, his hands on either side of her head.

  “What was that about going down?” he asked, a flicker of lust in his hazel eyes.

  “I said you should just bow down and accept defeat.”

  “I could admit that…maybe if you admitted something in return.”

  Reagan’s heart skipped in her chest, but there was no way she was giving in so easily. “Okay. I admit it. You don’t really snore in your sleep like I said you do.”

  “Reagan—”

  “And I might’ve lied when I told you I love eggs Benedict. I don’t. I hate it.”

  Evan’s eyes went wide. “I thought we’d cured you of that.”

  She squirmed underneath him. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. It looks so pretty, but there’s just all this sauce, and I can’t…” She twisted up her face.

  “I’m not sure I can continue this relationship anymore. That’s a deal breaker.”

  Reagan pouted and rose up to her elbows. “But I do love your beef Wellington…and your filet mignon with mushroom-wine sauce…and the way your bacon is always so”—she kissed his lips—“perfectly”—another kiss—“cooked.”

  “So you’re saying you love my meat.”

  She grinned under his mouth. “I fucking love your meat.”

  He took her lips again in a scorching kiss, and she slid her tongue inside. She wouldn’t admit it, but Evan tasted better than any meal he could whip up.

  “Get a room!” A shout from across the green had her breaking away from him before she wanted to.

  “Now that I’ve worked up an appetite, we should probably eat,” she said, pushing against his chest until they were both sitting up. She took out two plates and unwrapped the sandwiches while Evan reached inside the basket and pulled out—

  “White macadamia cookies. You’re a goddess.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “You’re a goddess.”

  Reagan laughed and handed him his plate.

  They both sat comfortably, munching on their food, as they eyed one another thinking about later. She loved moments like this with him. They’d become a “thing” for them. He’d do his weekly afternoon meeting, and she’d take the opportunity to snap some photos around the area before they’d meet up and have lunch. Which had her glancing down at the camera resting by her side.

  She put her plate down and picked the camera up, pressing her eye to the viewfinder and aiming it toward the relaxed man lounging back on the blanket. He was so very different to the man she’d met back when he’d first applied for the job. He’d changed, yet at the same time—

  “What are you looking at?” he said, interrupting her train of thought.

  She peeked out from behind her lens and smiled. “You.”

  He unscrewed the cap of the water and took a drink, and Reagan watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Damn, he is one hell of a sexy guy.


  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, zooming in on his face. He was squinting against the afternoon sun, and the highlights in his hair shone. He was extremely attractive, there was no denying it, and when he flashed that smile at her, she was totally sunk.

  “And what do you see when you look at me, Ms. Spencer?”

  She took a few snapshots, the clicking and whirring of her camera the only thing she could hear over the beating of her heart, and for that moment it felt as though everyone else in the park had disappeared.

  “I see a man who just ate all my cookies.” She paused as he popped the final piece of one into his mouth.

  “And?”

  “And”—she grinned as she lowered her camera—“he’s lucky I love him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  EVAN BLEW OUT a silent breath as he walked alongside the snow-shoveled path that led to the Spencers’ modest home outside the city. Fuck, he was nervous. He’d been putting off this moment for as long as he could, but seeing as it was Christmas, the time had come to finally get the fuck over his trepidation.

  He felt Reagan’s gaze on him, and then she said, “You’re cute when you’re nervous.” Her words came out as small puffs in the frigid air. “But they won’t bite.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. They’d never bite someone who brought them so many gifts.” She nodded at the two enormous bags in his hands and shook her head. “A little over the top, but it’s kind of adorable.”

  Evan stopped where he was and looked down at the dozens of presents. He had gone a bit overboard, but wasn’t that what you did to overcompensate? Here, have a shit ton of gifts and please try to forget that my family took all your money once upon a time. No big deal.

  Reagan turned around and came back to stand in front of him. “They’re dying to see you. Just be the charming bastard I know you are, and make sure to get second helpings of Mom’s soufflé. You’ll make her year.”

  She gave him a quick kiss and then pushed open the front door. “Merry Christmas,” Reagan called out, and in an instant, the whole family rushed into the entryway, armed with hugs and hellos.