Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2)

by Jessica Huizenga

  I never talk about my past, yet there I was tonight, spilling my guts right in front of her. Because of her. She’s so goddamn understanding and easy to talk to it felt right. And hell, I even experienced some sort of relief finally getting it out. I thought, Damn, it’s nice to have a close female friend I can shoot the shit with.

  But then she had to look at me with those soft, serious, fucking beautiful eyes. My chest felt tight and my stupid dick decided it was time to leap into action and I knew I had to get away from her before I did something majorly fucking stupid.

  I stalk to the shower and turn the dial to the left. I was a moron to think I could handle this situation. I just need to relieve this pent up tension and I’ll be good to go.

  I pull off my clothes and step behind the glass doors, letting the hot water pound the top of my head. I rest my hands against the cool glass in front of me, my head bowed to communicate some sort of sick prayer. I’m not a religious man, but I pray to anybody listening that I can maintain control these next few months.

  Keeping my right hand on the wall, I grab my dick with my left and try to conjure any other woman’s face in my mind. I try to put fifteen years worth of dirty magazines and porno videos to use and focus on anyone—anything—else.

  It’s no use. I squeeze my eyelids shut, trying to force my concentration, but all I see are two alluring eyes tempting me, challenging me. One is blue. One is brown.

  I throw my head back, frustrated. I stroke faster, chasing a feeling of satisfaction that never comes.

  I move to stand up straight. As I do, I catch sight of something to my left, just beyond the foggy shower door. For a second I think I’m imagining things, but I realize it’s a curvy—very real—figure.

  Two eyes stare lustfully back at me.

  One is blue.

  One is brown.

  Kelley

  Yup. I just walked in on Ryan Blake masturbating in the shower.

  . . . and I’m not even sorry about it. Thrilled is more like it.

  I woke up to pee and this is what I accidentally walk in on. Ah yes . . . there is a sex god!

  I can’t help but admire the erotic sight when he notices me and we lock eyes.

  I should leave. Turn around and run. Being around this man—fake fiancé slash overprotective father of my child—is becoming increasingly complicated. The more time we spend together, the more our clear cut lines defining this relationship begin to blur. I hate that I physically want him so badly—his warmth, his comfort, his touch—when I know I can’t have him. Not in any real, meaningful way, that is.

  But still, I can’t look away.

  “Can I help you with something, Brooks?” Ryan asks calmly, as if he’s not standing there naked and dripping, holding himself.

  The steam is providing a teasing cloud around him, allowing me to see enough to make my pelvic muscles clench. The water from the showerhead streams through his dark brown hair and down his face, pooling at his neck before sliding down the rest of his lean frame. A few droplets catch on his eyelashes . . . they splatter when he blinks them away. Completely forgetting the reason I came in here, I let my eyes roam his body, captivated by how impressive he is.

  I lick my lips before softly admitting, “I think I’m the one that would like to help you.”

  He stares at me with a mixture of confusion and lust. We both freeze, wordlessly questioning the other. Are we really going here?

  Finally, Ryan reaches for the shower door and pulls it open. His blue eyes remain fixed on me as his lip curls into a smirk. His cocky expression is both a challenge and a dare: You won’t do it, Brooks.

  For a second I almost give in to his silent taunt. This is a really bad idea. Except the thing about being pregnant is that all my senses are extremely heightened, and right now I am so turned on it makes me lose all rational thought.

  The heat filling the room is making me feel deliciously dizzy. I peek to get a clear, full frontal view of Ryan and suck in a deep breath.

  Damn it . . . I’M GOING IN.

  Without any further hesitation I step boldly into the shower, our bodies pushed close in the small space. Still in my pajama shorts and tank top, they instantly get soaked. The thin fabric turns see-through, and by the way Ryan’s eyes make their way to my swollen chest (which has grown a full size from my usual C cup), I assume he approves. He reaches for my waist and I slide my hands up his arms to feel his biceps. He grabs my ass and pulls me up against him, close enough to feel the hardness of his torso and legs . . . close enough to feel all of his hard parts. He smiles arrogantly, the same infuriating look he gets when he thinks he’s won an argument, which makes me put my hand to his chest before he gets any closer. I sure as hell don’t want him thinking he has the upper hand here.

  “Just to be clear, Blake, this is only happening because being pregnant has turned me into some horny freak. You said you’re clean and I know you haven’t been with anyone for weeks, so I assume we’re in agreement that this is just sex and means nothing else.” I look at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. Maybe I’ll admit there is some small part of me—a very small, insignificant part . . . more of a speck, really—that hopes I might see a touch of disappointment in his eyes. Not that I expect this to change things, but it’d be nice to know I might mean a little something more to him.

  Except, as usual, he continues to look so goddamned neutral and sure of himself when he says, “Crystal clear, Brooks. Just sex.” He grins, and I want to punch the look off his face. Or kiss it. Maybe both.

  I start to lazily draw circles across his smooth chest with my finger, swirling the dripping water around and down his sculpted stomach until I reach just below his belly button. I look up at him seductively and add, “Good. I want to make sure it doesn’t hurt your feelings if I’m only using you for my own pleasure.” I admit that now I’m trying to provoke him. Two can play at this meaningless sex game. I don’t want him nearly as much as he must need to get laid, right? He was the one in here jacking off after all . . .

  I’m startled as he walks me back against the smooth glass, pinning me so I can barely move. By the way my body automatically reacts, nipples hard and panties drenched, I know my plan has backfired. His left arm stretches out above my head as he runs his other hand slowly down the side of my face, past my neck, over my heaving chest, around the swell of my growing stomach, and under my shorts until his long fingers feel just how wet I am. I whimper as he leans in so that his mouth is dangerously close to mine. “At your service, Sunshine.”

  Next thing I know I’m angling forward so his mouth can land hungrily on mine. Without breaking away, he pushes my shorts and panties down my legs and pulls off my shirt. I run my fingers up and down his arms, noticing how strong they are. Solid. Determined.

  His hands move to the back of my neck. We continue to kiss like mad. I grip his forearms, desperate for more. All of a sudden I feel a slight flutter in my abdomen . . . it feels like literal butterflies flying around in there. I pull back and look down at my round belly cocooned between our bodies. Damn it if the sight doesn’t make something tighten in my chest. Ryan rests his forehead on my own and glances down, too. He gently places one of his large hands right at the top of my stomach before looking back at me. “Fucking perfect,” he whispers before placing his lips roughly back on mine.

  Before I have time to analyze if he means that in a complimentary or sarcastic way, I find myself surrendering. Every kiss, every touch is like fire to my skin. I ignite for him and not even the water pouring down around us can make it stop. I know I’m going to get burned, but that doesn’t mean I can—or am willing to—prevent it.

  He spins me around so my back is to his front. I press my palms to the wall for support. His hands travel my body and I feel his teeth scrape softly against the back of my neck. I push my ass into him, needing to feel just how much he wants this. By the way he growls in my ear, I’d say a lot. The man has been celibate for six weeks, after all. And right now I am more t
han willing to be the one he unleashes all that pent up sexual frustration on . . . I’m ready to spontaneously combust over here.

  Thankfully I don’t have to suffer his tortuous foreplay much longer because I feel him at my core, gliding to fit perfectly as he shifts to push inside me. I cry out in relief. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the warm water stream over me, glad he can’t see my face—I don’t need the smug bastard knowing exactly what effect he has on me.

  As he drives in and out of me, he grips my hips so hard I’m sure I’ll be branded with his fingerprints for days. The thought sends an extra ripple of excitement up my spine. I spread my legs and bend over, leveraging my weight against the glass. This steadies and intensifies each hard thrust. He snakes one arm around to rub my clit, making my knees weak. A moment later I feel the fire spread from my head right on down between my legs before rocketing up to settle in my chest. I come with a loud cry, and feel Ryan’s own muscles contract simultaneously. We finish riding out the wave together before I feel him pull out and take a step back. I’m keenly aware of the stark emptiness I feel not having him still be a part of me.

  After a few silent moments I cautiously look over my shoulder. Ryan coolly grabs the washcloth hanging on the small towel bar and starts to scrub himself, washing any evidence of what just happened down the drain. I bend down to grab my soaked clothes before turning around to face him.

  “See, Brooks? Living together has its advantages.” He smirks playfully.

  I shrug indifferently. “I guess you’re good for something.” I try to remain casual, but a sudden shiver makes me tremble.

  Ryan’s brow furrows as he lightly rubs the goosebumps forming on my arms, this time keeping an arm’s length distance between us. “You should grab a towel and get warmed up. I’ll finish up in here and be out soon.” He steps aside so I can get past him. I nod and do as he says, grabbing the first big white, fluffy towel I see, quickly covering myself.

  I don’t dare glance back as I scoot out of the bathroom, making sure to shut the door behind me. As I grab a fresh pair of pajamas and get into bed, I wait for the regret to creep in.

  Except I can only picture him filling me, causing me to crave him all over again, even though he basically just gave me the brush-off. But did I really expect anything different?

  I hear the water stop and a minute later Ryan, wearing a pair of shorts, turns out the light and crawls into bed next to me. He gets close, but not too close. Damn. After remaining quiet for a minute, he eventually says, “You know, Brooks, this situation is fucked up for the both of us, but if it had to happen, I’m glad it was with you.”

  He smells like soap, clean and masculine, and I have to resist rolling over to breathe him in. “And why’s that?”

  “Because you get me. You don’t hide shit and you tell it like it is. I know I can trust you not to get all weird on me and we can have a mutual relationship where it doesn’t have to be complicated or fucking filled with all types of drama. I respect that, and I respect you.”

  I slowly exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I think I let my crazy, out of control emotions cloud my sanity for a second there. I take a minute to remember why I’m even here, in Ryan’s bed—and in his life—in the first place. “I respect you, too, Ry. You didn’t owe me anything after that night at the wedding, but I really do appreciate all you’re doing for me. For us.” I caress my stomach, suddenly aware of just how serious I am. “I still want a real family someday, but until I meet the right guy, it’s nice to know I have you as a friend.”

  Ryan gets quiet and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. When he finally speaks the rawness of his voice surprises me. “I will always take care of you, Kelley. You and our baby. I may not be able to promise much else, but I can fucking promise you that.”

  I try not to notice how nice my first name sounds falling from his lips. It makes my insides feel funny, though. His words bring me an extraordinary amount of comfort, as I know he means them, but at the same time I feel that recurring emptiness when I think of how much I also want someone to love me. To be in love with me. I don’t blame Ryan for this situation, I just wish it wasn’t so complicated. For as much as we lay our cards on the table, I have a feeling we both still keep a few aces hidden up our sleeves.

  I roll to my right side, facing him. Without any light I can barely make out his silhouette. While I’m not usually so shy, somehow tonight it’s easier not to see his face. “I’m glad I’m having your baby, Blake, ” I admit into the darkness.

  And as we both fall asleep, I realize I wholeheartedly mean it.

  Kelley

  Sixteen Weeks

  “Does this dress make me look like a giant fat pregnant chick?” I step into the space between the living room and the kitchen where Ryan is waiting, feeling uncomfortable as I try to smooth the red fabric over my newfound curves. At five foot six with a lean frame, I feel like I’m showing way more than I should for being only sixteen weeks.

  He eyes me from my simple black ballet flats, past the form fitting red dress that has three-quarter sleeves and falls just past my knees, all the way up to my face. I’ve left my long, brown hair down to fall past my shoulders and have applied a bit of makeup. I’m worried I look like I’m trying too hard to impress Ryan’s family, but hell, I want them to like me.

  Ryan’s gaze lingers on my red lips for a beat longer before his eyes narrow. “Nice try, Brooks. I’m not walking into that fucking trap. You women all realize there is never a good answer for that kind of question, right?”

  I cross my arms and pout. “The right answer is to say ‘no,’ ya big jerk.”

  He stalks over to me, looking mighty fine in dark jeans that hang on his hips in all the right ways, and a sexy, dark green button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his cut forearms. He places his hands on my shoulders. “I hate to break it to you, Brooks, but you are a big, growing pregnant chick.” He moves his hands down to my belly.

  I punch him in the shoulder. Hard.

  He flinches and retracts his arms. “Jesus it’s a compliment!” I eye him fiercely as he tries to explain. “My kid is living in there and you are one cool ass woman to let him hang out in your womb for a while. Every day you get bigger, I know our baby is getting stronger and it’s fucking hot.” He smiles in such a damn arrogant, adorable way I have to laugh.

  “Yeah, we’ll see how hot it is when I have cankles and am too huge to be able to shave my legs anymore.” I grin teasingly before turning to grab my coat.

  He surprises me when he steps close to help me put it on. As he holds the thick wool up for me to slip my arms in, he responds playfully, “I could be into the whole cavewoman hippie thing.” I snort before he says in a softer, gentler voice, “Seriously, you look great, Brooks. You always do, and you always will.”

  I blush as I fumble with the buttons on my jacket. For the past week and a half—ever since our steamy shower—Ryan and I have definitely gotten more comfortable around each other. While there is always an understanding that we’re just friends, we now have a more physical relationship . . . shameless flirting, him rubbing and talking to my stomach, and yes, more sex. It may not be true love, but it’s nice to have some semblance of a relationship going through all of this. It makes it easier to act like we’re together when we genuinely like—and are attracted—to each other.

  That doesn’t stop me from being nervous about tonight, though. Ryan’s whole family will be at the Christmas party, and from what he tells me there are always a ton of other people. At least Logan, Tristan, Kinsley, Lucas, and Eli will be there so I will know a few familiar faces. It will be the first time we’re around everyone as an “engaged” couple, and I just hope we can pull it off. I try not to let Ryan pick up on my anxiety, because I know he is way more worked up about this than he is willing to admit. I could tell from the way he talked about his mom that this is the last place he wants to go, let alone also have to lie about our situation. I decide to keep things light to
take his mind off it.

  I pick up my small black clutch from the table and lightly swat his chest. “Well keep talking like that, mister, and you might just get lucky tonight.” I wink as he chuckles and we make our way to the door.

  Before I can pass him, Ryan holds his arm out to stop me and whispers in my ear, “What if I don’t want to wait until tonight?”

  Arousal spreads through my body, making me feel warm from the inside out. Before I have time to think of a witty comeback, he slaps my ass and says, “Come on, Sunshine. The sooner we get this shit over with, the better.” He pulls open the door and motions toward the hall.

  Forty-five minutes later we pull up to a ginormous, gated property. Ryan enters a code on the keypad and the gates start to move. As he pulls his truck up the long, winding drive, I can’t help but literally let my jaw fall open.

  “Jeez, Blake. I know you said your mom has money, but damn.” I eye him curiously. “Are you sure you’re not really Batman or something?”

  He laughs as he puts the truck in park. “You caught me, babe. I’m wearing man tights under my pants as we speak.”

  I giggle at the thought. “Does that mean Lucas is Robin?” I laugh even harder picturing the two of them running around town in bodysuits, fighting crime.

  “Fuck that. I work alone.” He smirks, so genuinely happy it reaches his eyes, making them sparkle. I realize how proud it makes me to be the one to make him look that way. But all too soon he looks agitated again as he looks to the house, refusing to move or turn off the car. And that surprisingly makes me want to punch whoever hurt him in the past square in the face.