Hothouse Flower (22 page)

< 31 >

RYKE MEADOWS

Seven days into the road trip, and I’m already
fighting with my brother.

“Do you know how fucking inappropriate you are?” Lo is
half-turned around in the front seat of the SUV, his jaw clenching as he lays
into me. The surprising fucking bit of all this: it’s not even about Daisy.

It’s about Lily.

His fucking fiancée.

“I’m pretty fucking inappropriate,” I admit with a shrug. “I
thought we all already knew that. So why are you hounding me about this?”

Lo gives me a look like
are
you serious?
“You can’t talk about that shit with her. She’s a fucking sex
addict.”

Connor’s eyes flicker to me in the rearview mirror, his
hands tight on the steering wheel. Whether he sides with Lo or me, he doesn’t
let on. Daisy twists her hair into a long braid beside me.

I groan loudly. “She’s so embarrassed to talk about sex. I was
doing her a fucking favor, and secondly, I don’t know why you’re yelling at me
now. This conversation happened months ago.”
Thanks, Lil, for bringing it up right now. When I’m in a confined space
for fucking hours with my brother.

Lily and I talk often, but I don’t remember how we arrived
onto the topic about public sex, maybe because she mentioned how she missed it.
It’s one of her restrictions now that she’s in recovery. I was sitting on their
couch, waiting for Lo to change for the gym, and I asked her all the places
she’s done it.

Her face flushed red and she stumbled for answers. I thought
it’d make her more comfortable if I listed my sexual fucking adventures.

Beaches.

Bathrooms.

Golf courses.

Woods.

Parking lots.

Elevators.

Parks.

Malls.

Gym locker rooms.

The list really just goes on and fucking on. I like screwing
everywhere, especially outside. Lily started to open up a little bit. It wasn’t
my fucking intention to share our sexual exploits with each other, but I just
wanted to make her feel less ashamed about her sex life. So fuck me.

She told me she had sex with Lo in a movie theatre once. And
how she did it at an amusement park when she was eighteen, on the fucking Ferris
wheel.

My first thought:
 
I
have to give her some credit for that one. It sounded fucking fun.

And then she told me it was with a random guy she met at the
cotton candy booth.

My insides kind of twisted. For her. For my brother. I wish
she could have just enjoyed sex like me, but instead it was something else
entirely for her. Something darker.

“I appreciate you trying to make her comfortable,” Lo says
in a way that sounds like he really doesn’t appreciate it. “But for Christ’s
sake, she’s texting me to clarify public sex to her.” He shakes his head and
looks down at his phone and reads her text. “
Is tent sex considered public sex, if the tent is owned by us? Because
some people live in tents. Therefore that would be a house, and a house isn’t
public, it’s private. Therefore, tent sex is private sex
.”

Connor tries really hard not to make a sound (at least I
think he does) but he ends up bursting into laughter.

“I know,” Lo says. “It’s insane. It’s like reading a text
from someone trying to convince you that cocaine isn’t a drug.”

“And how do you know this is my fucking fault?”

Lo raises his brows. “Because I told her that it’s public
sex and she immediately responded with:
Ryke
has a lot of
public sex. Maybe he’s a sex addict
.” He looks up to me. “And then we had a
long fucking talk about the conversation you had with her.”

Daisy eyes me with a grin. “You like public sex? Like in
grocery stores?”

“Yeah, right in front of the fucking cantaloupes and
produce,” I deadpan.

“I prefer to do it in front of the baking goods. Chocolates
chips. Cake mix.” Her smile grows.

Lo looks between us. “No,” he says sharply. “Don’t even go
there.” His eyes land on Daisy. “And don’t have sex in public. It’s fucking
gross.”

“Hey,” I cut in. “Let her do what she wants.”

“Yeah, sure, get arrested, Dais,” Lo tells her. “Or better
yet, screw in a grocery store and then some cashier will be
peeking
in from the aisle over and film you on his cellphone. Great story to tell the
world.”

I expect another sarcastic comment from her, but instead,
her face turns serious. “Do you think it’s gross that Lily has had public sex?”

Lo’s
face contorts and he starts
shaking his head. “Of course not. She’s not gross.”

“But it’d be gross for me,” Daisy says, touching her chest.
Confusion wrinkles her forehead.

I glower at Lo. He did just say that.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lo says, cringing. “You’re
just…you’re you, Dais. You’re young.”

“Lily had sex on a Ferris wheel when she was eighteen,” I
refute coldly. “Don’t make this into an age thing. Say the fucking truth, Lo.
It’d be gross for
you
to think about
Daisy having sex. It doesn’t matter where the fuck it is.”

“It’s okay, guys,” Daisy says quickly, “I’m sorry I brought
it up.” She slides over to the window, her face sinking in guilt at stirring
more confrontation between my brother and me. But honestly, anything she
fucking says is going to rile Lo. It’s just the way he is.

Lo gives me a long stare. “Just be more careful with Lil
next time. You, ranting and raving, about losing your fucking virginity on a
golf course is not going to help. She’s going to want to try it, and I have to
tell her no.”

“You can’t even do it outside the bedroom once? I thought
she was getting better,” I say.

“She can’t ask for it,” Lo tells me. “And she’s starting to
fucking ask. You see the cycle here?”

“Yeah.” He’s not getting laid. But I know it’s more than
that. He worries about her. He always has.

“Who locked the windows?” Daisy suddenly asks

I glance over and see her flicking the button on the door handle,
nothing happens. Dais cannot sit still for longer than thirty fucking minutes.
Put her in an SUV for an hour, and she’ll stick her head, arm, legs and
eventually her whole body out of the window. Lo had to drag her back onto the
leather seat three or four times already.

I slide next to her.

“I did,” Connor says. “I’m not getting my first ticket
because
Ryke
won’t restrain his puppy.”

“Hey,” Lo interjects. I frown. He’s going to stick up for
me? “Don’t be calling Daisy
his
anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Just unlock the fucking window, Connor.”

“No, it’s cool,” Daisy says, scooting closer to me. “I don’t
want to get anyone in trouble.” She tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear,
and her leg brushes against mine. Her bruises are gone, and this morning, she
had her stitches removed by a doctor in Ohio. The gash along her cheek is
closed but reddened.

Still, it looks ten times better than it did. I untie her
hair that’s in a bun, and I playfully mess the strands. They lie tangled on her
head, frizzy like she rolled out of bed or ran through the woods.

She tenses as she watches me look her over closely. I act
the same in front of Daisy as I did before we got together—which means my
brother shoots me a warning glare every half hour for overstepping and walking
a thin line.
 

“Do you like my hair long?” she asks me.

“No because I can tell you fucking hate it.” I wonder if she
was waiting for my opinion before she grabbed a scissors. I thought cutting her
hair would be one of her first spontaneous acts after she quit modeling.

“Then why do you always untie my hair when I put it up?”

I’m going to have to fucking generalize because my brother
is in the front seat. So I say, “I like when girls have messy hair.”

“Like ‘
we just fucked
’
messy?”

She went there anyway. I try hard not to smile.

“Daisy,” Lo interjects with a grimace. “Don’t say that to my
brother.”

 
“You’re right,” she
says to Lo. “The f-word is a bit abrasive.” She tilts her head at me. “How
about ‘
we just had sex
’
messy?”

Lo shakes his head a couple times, puts on headphones and
balls his sweatshirt in the corner of the door. “Wake me up when you stop
flirting with a guy seven years older than you. It’s disgusting.”

Her smile fades.

I love Lo, but he can be a real fucking asshole.

Connor stays quiet, concentrating on driving, and I take the
opportunity to cheer up Daisy. I grab her waist and set her between my open
legs. The surprise causes her to smile again, and I slip one hand beneath her
shirt, rubbing her back while I massage her shoulder with the other.

Her tense muscles can’t loosen with me this close. The more
I knead my fingers into her shoulder and skim her back with my palm, the more
she stiffens and holds onto my kneecaps for support.
 

 
She purposefully
scoots her ass harder into my crotch.
Fuck
me.

I remove my hand from beneath her shirt and comb my fingers
through her hair. “I like your hair down because of how wild you look, but you
could do anything to it and I would still love it.” I want
her
to choose the length and color based on what she wants. Her mom
and agency have dictated her appearance so much. I’m not fucking replacing
them.

She spins around, my hands falling off her shoulders. And in
effect, she half-straddles my lap. Her ass is on the edge of the seat, not on
me.

“Can I have your knife?” she asks.

I stare down at her and cup her face, brushing my thumb
along her smooth cheek. “What knife?”

She reaches towards my ankle, and I grab her wrist to stop
her. A smile plays at her lips, mischievousness dancing in her eyes. “The knife
you used to wear to bed,” she whispers in a silky voice.

I’m wearing that knife now, but I stopped strapping it to my
ankle at night because I thought it would lessen her anxiety—for her to see
that I wasn’t worried about someone breaking into her apartment anymore. “Don’t
talk about my knife, Calloway,” I deadpan.

She eases forward, straddling my lap. “I like your knife.”

She’s a wicked fucking girl. There’s a reason why guys
haven’t been able to last with her. In bed, she probably won’t lie still while
a guy dominates her. She doesn’t beg to be in full control either. She wants to
be a part of the experience, so when I fuck her, she’s going to fuck me with
equal intensity. It’s a back and forth between us that I didn’t expect to
translate to sex, but I already know it will.

My gaze hardens, giving her a look that intimidates most
women. Instead her eyes brighten, hypnotized by the darkness inside of me. The
I don’t give a fuck what you think
mentality
scares some people, but it attracts her. It always has.

She breathes deeply and runs her hand through my hair before
her lips touch my ear, “You’re my wolf.” Her hands fall to the back of my neck,
watching me watch her.

“Cute,” I say.

“The cutest?” She smiles.

I shake my head, lean forward, and whisper in her ear, “The
cutest is you, wrapped in my arms, coming three or four times before you fall
asleep.”

Her fingers grip my neck tighter. “I can barely come once,”
she whispers.

My eyebrows shoot up. “You came pretty fucking quickly with
me,” I breathe. She stares at my lips while I reach down in my boot and pull
out my serrated knife.

I hand it to her, and she touches the point of the blade to
her finger, not drawing blood but just inspecting the sharpness.

“It can cut through hair,” I assure her.

She still scrutinizes the blade with a faraway look. Then
she says under her breath, “I’ve never had sex with a guy like that.”

I frown. “With someone holding you?”

She nods. “Usually they have their head on a pillow,
watching me while I’m on top.”

That really fucking bugs me, and the irritation passes
through my features.

“I shouldn’t have brought up other guys I was with. I know
it’s like a relationship faux pas.” She slides off my lap and steals back her
hairband from my wrist.

“I’m not upset because you were talking about your past hook
ups,” I tell her. I glance at the front of the car. My brother is fast asleep
while Connor switches lanes, acting disinterested in everything. I don’t think
he can hear us, and if he can, he’ll probably keep everything to himself. I
look back at Daisy who ties her hair in a low pony.

“You looked pissed,” she says.

“I fucking am,” I whisper. “You deserve better.”

“What’s better?” she asks.

“Someone who pays attention to you,” I tell her. “Someone
who can tell what you like and dislike without asking.” And then I lean forward
and whisper in her ear, “Someone who makes you so wet that you scream when you
come.”

Her face flushes a little and she ties her hair off and
whispers back, “Where were you three years ago?”

She was fifteen. I was twenty-two.

“Three years ago,” I whisper, “I met you at a New Year’s Eve
party where you got
roofied
and I carried you to my
car.”

She shakes her head. “You met me before then at my house.
You waved at me.”

I remember that. “I didn’t know you were Lily’s sister.
Honestly, I thought you were twenty-two and one of Rose’s friends.”

When Lily pointed at the tall blonde eating a pomegranate in
the kitchen, I thought she was fucking gorgeous. So I waved. Her face lit up
and she gave me a quick once-over, her lips curving in a cute smile.

I immediately wanted to fuck her, to start something,
wondering if she was the kind of girl who did long term, short term, or
one-night stands. I planned to do any of the three, just based on the way she
was smiling, her carefree nature where she radiated with energy, and her
beautiful fucking features.