Sex Addict (12 page)

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 floor. “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.
 

Crystal laughed. “Jesus, he didn’t have to run. I’m not feeling too stabby yet.”

“I don’t know,” Reagan drawled as she gave her a quick once-over. “Your face certainly says otherwise.”

“And your face is screaming of another late-night conquest. Spill it.”

Sighing, she grabbed Crystal’s martini and took a sip before saying, “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Mhmm.” Her friend wrinkled her nose in distaste. “If I recall correctly, you’re wearing your emergency clothes that you keep in your bottom drawer at work, and you’ve got a guilty ‘walk of shame’ look about you.”

When Reagan set Crystal’s drink back down in front of her, the woman shook her head and pushed it back. “Oh no, you keep that one. No telling where that filthy mouth has been.”
 

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Reagan said as she scratched her brow with her middle finger. “How the hell did you even know these were my emergency clothes?”

“That huge crease running down your shirt is definitely not a dead giveaway.”

Reagan looked down to the center of her blouse and then aimed narrowed eyes back on Crystal. “Well, we all can’t be as immaculate as you.”

“Bullshit. Usually you’re put together right down to the color of your nail polish matching your lipstick…but not today. Today you look like you fucked and fled.”

“Actually, it was more like crawling and creeping out the door.”

Her friend leaned in across the table, eyes wide. “Why? Was he
that
bad?”

“I can’t even remember, does that tell you anything? Plus, I stayed the night. And I haven’t done that since—” She caught herself before she spilled Evan’s name, but not before her friend caught on.

With a wide smile, Crystal sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I know who you mean. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Did you ever find out his name?”

Yeah, and he works under me…well, not under me, though I know how amazing that…no, no, no.