Deeply Destructive (Addicted To You, Book Four)

by Lucy Covington

  DEEPLY DESTRUCTIVE (Addicted To You, Book Four) by Lucy Covington

  Copyright 2013, all rights reserved.

  LINDSAY

  When I woke up, Justin was holding me. My back was against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around me, keeping me close. I took in a deep breath and tried to slow my heart, which was beating so fast it felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.

  I turned over slowly, careful not to wake him.

  And then I just stared.

  He was beautiful.

  His eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks. He looked peaceful as he slept, his hair rumpled, his breathing even. Everything about him was sexy and gorgeous and made me feel flushed all over.

  He rolled over and stretched, then turned his head and blinked at me sleepily.

  “’Morning.” He grinned.

  “”Morning.”

  “What are you doing way over there?” He pulled me back close to him, his chest pushing against mine. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Really well.” It was true. I should have slept horribly after everything that had happened last night, but instead I’d slept deeply and soundly, only waking up once.

  “Good.” He smiled at me, and I wanted to kiss him so badly I could hardly take it. My body felt like it was on fire. A warm tingle moved from my toes to my head before settling in between my legs.

  How could something that felt so amazing be so wrong for me? I knew everything about this was wrong. But it was a force I couldn’t control, like a wave sweeping me up and pulling me out to sea. Last night I’d been fighting it, but now I was beginning to wonder if maybe I should just let it take me.

  We stayed like that for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes. It was the sexiest, hottest thing I’d ever experienced. A need pulsed between us, and it felt like it was permeating the entire room. My whole body was on alert, every sense heightened even though we hadn’t even kissed.

  I closed my eyes, afraid that if I didn’t, I would end up putting my lips on his.

  And I wanted more than anything for him to kiss me first.

  I felt the pad of his thumb move across my cheek and my breath caught in my chest.

  “God, Lindsay,” he breathed. “You’re so beautiful.”

  No one had ever called me beautiful before. The word filled my body with an unfamiliar emotion, something that felt like a mix embarrassment, lust, and disbelief.

  I opened my eyes, and he was staring at me with a look on his face that mirrored what I was feeling inside. He wanted me. I could tell. And I wanted him.

  I closed my eyes again and waited for him to kiss me.

  “JB!” The voice echoed through the apartment from the other room.

  “Shit,” Justin swore and then sighed. “It’s Gilbert.”

  Right. Gilbert. I’d almost forgotten about him, which made no sense since he was the one who’d caused all that drama last night.

  Justin rolled away from me and sat up.

  It took every ounce of my self-control to not stare at him, and in the end, I lost the battle. I watched as he moved to his dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts, trying not to drool. His chest was tan and toned, with hard pecs and smooth lines. I let my eyes linger over his washboard abs, the smooth V of his hips, the way his biceps flexed as he moved.

  “I’m going to go check on Gil,” he said. “You can use the bathroom, or help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen, okay?”

  “Okay.” I wanted to ask him if he was planning on wearing a shirt, because I wasn’t sure I could take being around him if he was going to walk around shirtless like that.

  But apparently he didn’t plan on getting fully dressed, because he left the room without putting a shirt on.

  My body was filled with longing and anticipation, and I couldn’t sit still. I felt jumpy and full of nerves.

  I got up and headed for the bathroom, where I smoothed my hair, washed my face, and gargled with some mouthwash that I found in the medicine cabinet.

  Then I headed for the kitchen.

  The apartment was quiet, but I could hear low voices in one of the other rooms.

  The blanket Justin had put over Gil last night sat on the couch, wrinkled and discarded.

  Other than that, the apartment was neat and tidy.

  I walked into the kitchen and hunted around until I found the glasses, then poured myself some water.

  Justin was still in the other room, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. It felt kind of weird, just standing here in his kitchen. I opened the refrigerator. It was surprisingly stocked for an apartment with two guys living in it. There were containers of cut up vegetables and fruits, some meats and cheeses, cartons of orange juice, a couple of takeout containers, and various condiments and dressings.

  I rooted around until I found some eggs and bacon.

  Should I make breakfast?

  I was hungry and I wanted to, but I also didn’t want to come across as being all stalkery. It was the weekend, so it’s not like I had to be at class, but maybe Justin had things to do. Or maybe he just wanted to get rid of me. Maybe he —

  “Hey.” Justin peeked around the side of the refrigerator and I almost screamed.

  “You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” He just stood there, grinning that mischievous little grin of his, like he knew a secret I didn’t.

  “How’s Gil doing?” I asked, trying to sound like it was every day that I slept over a boy’s apartment and watched him walk around half-naked.

  “He’s good. Tired, a little nauseous. But he’s going to be fine. He went into the spare room for some reason. I guess he likes sleeping on the floor.”

  “That’s good. That’s he’s going to be okay, I mean.”

  “Yup.” He leaned against the wall, still looking at me with that smug little look.

  “So what are you doing in my refrigerator?”

  “I was going to make breakfast.”

  “Good idea. I’m starving.”

  “Eggs and bacon?”

  “Sounds good.” He reached into the breadbox and pulled out a loaf of bread.

  “And toast, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  I brought the eggs and bacon over to the stove and set them down. Justin crossed his arms over his chest, watching me.

  “Um, what are you doing?” I asked.

  “Watching you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re cute.”

  There was a lightness about him this morning, so different from the way he’d been last night. Last night he’d been dangerous and dark and brooding. This morning he seemed playful and flirty.

  I felt myself start to blush. “Where’s your frying pan?” I asked.

  “Right there.” He pointed to a lower cupboard, and I bent down and opened it. I pulled the frying pan out, and when I stood up, Justin let his eyes move up my body slowly, not even trying to hide what he was doing.

  I swallowed and moved to the stove, setting down the pan on one of the front burners. “Do you have any, um, cooking spray?”

  “Cooking spray?” He sounded outraged. “For what?”

  “You know, to spray the pan.” I gestured at it. “So that the eggs don’t stick.”

  “Oh, Lindsay.” He shook his head at me. “We don’t use cooking spray in this house. Cooking spray is for girls.”

  “I am a girl.”

  “Trust me.” He took in a deep breath and grinned. “I know.”

  “So then what do you use?” I asked, ignoring his comment.

  “Butter.” He moved over to the refrigera
tor and pulled out a flowered butter dish.

  “You have a flowered butter dish?”

  “Wyatt’s mom got it for him,” he said defiantly. “It’s convenient. Besides, you shouldn’t be mocking my butter dish when you’re looking for cooking spray. You obviously have a lot to learn about cooking.”

  “And you’re going to teach me?” I asked skeptically.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Pip,” he said. His took a step closer to me, and his eyes moved up and down my body again, slower this time. “There are a lot of things I can teach you.”

  I shivered as he moved past me to the counter. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I wanted to tell him that if he expected me to pay attention to anything he was about to say, he should put his damn shirt on. His biceps were making me dizzy.

  He readjusted the frying pan on the burner, then turned on the heat. I tried not to think of it as a metaphor.

  “Now put some butter in that pan, Pip,” he said.

  I cut off a small slab and dropped it in.

  “More.”

  I did as I was told.

  He got to work whisking the eggs and then poured them into the pan.

  “Now stir,” he instructed. “And don’t stop.”

  He started laying bacon into another pan, and after a moment, the sound of sizzling filled the air followed by the salty scent of frying meat.

  We worked in silence for a few moments, and I tried not to look over at him. It was so surprising, the fact that he could cook. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he did something that made me realize I didn’t know anything about him.

  “You’re not stirring,” he said.

  “Oh.” I looked down. He was right. I’d stopped stirring the eggs.

  He moved behind me, his arms enveloping my waist. He put his hand gently on mine and guided the spatula. “See? You have to keep moving them, or they get stuck to the bottom.”

  “Yeah,” I said, just barely getting the words out. “Thanks.”

  Goosebumps had broken out on my arms. I was so aware of just… him.

  Everything about him. The way his body felt against mine, the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the tiny bit of stubble on his face.

  I’d used to think that the girls who’d had tons of sex in high school had no self-control. But I was beginning to think that if they’d felt the way I did when Justin was near me, then I couldn’t blame them.

  He stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, his hand on mine.

  “Got it now?” he breathed into my ear.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I got it.”

  I turned around, but he didn’t move. Now we were standing there, my back up against the stove, his arms around me, effectively pinning me in.

  The air crackled with electricity, and my stomach fizzed with anticipation.

  He swallowed, and I could see his Adam’s apple moving. “God, Lindsay,” he whispered. He reached up and moved a piece of hair off my face.

  It was almost unbearable, standing this close to him, looking into his eyes, and not kissing him.

  My phone rang, cutting some of the tension in the room, as the spell was broken.

  Toxic by Britney Spears went trilling through the apartment, echoing from where my purse was sitting on the table by the front door. I must have dropped my purse there when he led me to his room last night.

  Justin stepped back and let me walk past.

  “I see you haven’t changed your ringtone, Pip,” he grinned, like nothing had happened. He started pulling a plate down from the cupboard and laying strips of cooked bacon onto it. “You better answer it.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was answer my phone. In fact, whoever was calling and interrupting this moment was going to end up making it up to me from now until forever.

  Meanwhile, Justin was over on the other side of the kitchen now, popping toast into the toaster and humming happily under his breath.

  I headed for the hallway, then rummaged through my purse and pulled out my phone. It showed a number I didn’t recognize, and I frowned. I hardly ever got calls from phone numbers I didn’t know. The screen was showing a 617 area code, though, so I knew it had to be someone in the Boston area.

  Dr. Klaxton.

  I knew it was stupid, but it was the first name that popped into my head. What if he was calling to tell me he was sorry for the way he’d treated me, and he wanted to give me another chance? Maybe it was one of those weird tests that you always hear about professors giving people, like in that movie Legally Blonde.

  “Hello?” I answered, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Lindsay?”

  “This is she.”

  “I know it’s you, what the hell happened last night?”

  “Who is this?” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “It’s Adam!”

  Oh. Right. Adam. I hadn’t bothered to program his number into my phone when he’d given it to me, which was why I hadn’t recognized the number. Damn.

  “Oh, hi, Adam,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up is that I’ve been worried sick about you!” he said. “You left me sitting at the yogurt shop and just took off without even saying goodbye.”

  Oh my God. I’d totally forgotten about Adam. How could I have done such a thing? Talk about a horrible, mean thing to do. But whenever Justin was around, it was like everything else faded away. Even now, I was watching him through the kitchen doorway as he served up plates of food for us.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam,” I said. “I really am. It was just… something came up.”

  Justin’s shoulders tensed at Adam’s name, and he turned around and frowned at me.

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t cool to just leave me hanging,” Adam said. “Not to mention I was extremely worried. I was this close to calling the police, but I ran into Rachel and she said –”

  “The police? Why would you have called the police?”

  “Because you took off with a thug, never to be heard from again.”

  “He’s not a thug.”

  Justin looked up sharply and then held his hand out. “Give me the phone.”

  I shook my head. The last thing I needed was for Justin to get on the phone with Adam and start yelling at him.

  “Adam,” I said. “I’m so sorry I made you worry, I really am. But I’m fine, I promise.”

  “She’s fine, Adam,” Justin yelled, sounding annoyed. “Mind your own damn business.”

  “What’s he saying?” Adam demanded.

  “Look,” I said, ignoring his question, “I’m sorry I disappeared last night. That was wrong of me. Let me make it up to you. Maybe we can hang out later or something?” I wasn’t just trying to placate him. I did feel bad. Adam had been nothing but nice to me, and I’d just left him sitting there outside the yogurt shop. It was wrong, and I was embarrassed by my behavior.

  “Okay,” Adam said, sighing. But he didn’t sound happy.

  “I’ll text you later?” I asked.

  “I guess.” He still sounded miffed. But then his voice softened a little bit. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  We hung up and I walked through the doorway back into the kitchen. Justin had his back to me and was sliding toast onto two plates. He picked them up and walked toward the little table in the corner.

  I sat down. “Thanks,” I said as he set a plate down in front of me.

  “Welcome.” He picked up his fork and angrily stabbed at his eggs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “‘I’ll make it up to you’?” He was doing a shockingly good impression of my voice. “What was that about?”

  “What it’s about is, I feel bad that I left him sitting alone in a yogurt shop last night without so much as an explanation.”

  “I told you, I don’t want you seeing that guy anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s bad news.”

  I shook my
head and took a sip of the orange juice he’d poured for me. “I don’t think so, Justin. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly what?”

  “Exactly my point. Why do you think he’s been so nice to you?”

  “Because he’s a nice person?”

  He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe how naïve I was. “He wants to get in your pants.”

  “No, he doesn’t!” I said, shocked. “He hasn’t tried any such thing.” But even as I was saying the words, I was remembering the other night at Frog, when Adam had put his hand on my leg. At the time it seemed innocent, but was Justin right? Was Adam just trying to get in my pants?

  “Trust me,” Justin said. “He’s just biding his time, making you think he’s this great guy, and then when he has you roped in, he’s going to try something.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “It’s not.”

  Was he right? Adam had put his hand on my leg. But still. Other than that, he’d been nothing but nice to me. And besides, I couldn’t start getting all paranoid about people just because Justin had some kind of chip on his shoulder.

  “Well, whatever,” I said, hoping we could change the subject.

  “Whatever, nothing. If he touches you, I’ll kill him.”

  “Justin!”

  “What?” He shrugged. “I’m serious, Lindsay. I don’t want him putting his hands on you. And you can tell him that, too.”

  I wanted to ask Justin why he didn’t want Adam putting his hands on me when he himself hadn’t even tried to kiss me. It didn’t make any sense. If Justin was that jealous of another guy, then why didn’t he try something with me?

  I took a bite of my eggs. “These are really good,” I said.

  “See?” He grinned, proud of himself. “I told you.”

  A few minutes later, we were cleaning up the breakfast dishes when my phone rang again.

  “If that’s Adam again…” Justin warned.

  “What if it is?” I challenged.

  “Let me see that phone,” he replied, trying to grab it from my hands.

  Once again, I felt the familiar spark of electricity as Justin’s body came in contact with mine. I tried to retain my composure, but it wasn’t easy.

  “It’s Rachel,” I said, looking down at the caller ID and keeping the cell out of his reach. “You know, my roommate? She’s probably wondering why I didn’t come home last night.” I sent the call to voicemail, not wanting to get into a big conversation about where I’d been. Then I sent her a quick text, letting her know I was okay and that I’d be home soon.