Sex Addict (18 page)

The man standing in front of them, wearing a starched business suit and clutching his briefcase, peered over his shoulder toward them, and before Reagan could explain, Evan jumped in.

“I lost the office bet last week.”

The man gave them a smile of camaraderie, and when Evan looked back at her, Reagan didn’t feel in the least bit friendly—she felt indecent as hell. What kind of person was she that she was standing there, lying to this man, and yet at the same time wanting to hit the emergency button and demand he put an end to this frustration he’d built inside her all week?
 

As it was, she was almost terrified to read what was on the final cup.

She took the coffee with a tentative hand and held his gaze. His eyes seemed to sparkle at her, and she couldn’t help but respond by rolling hers, even if the half-smile on her face never went away.

Casually, she pulled the sleeve down to see what message she needed to refute today, but there was nothing written. Brows knitted together, she turned it around and found the rest blank as well. Beside her, she felt Evan’s shoulders begin to shake and, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of showing she cared about his silly messages, took a long sip before sputtering as the hot, black coffee that was obviously
not
hers made its way down her throat.
 

“Did you get mine by mistake?” Evan teased. “I’m sorry—it looks like this one is yours.”

Reagan glared up at his smirking face before grabbing the coffee out of his hand and shoving the nasty concoction she’d been forced to drink in his.
 

His lips found their way to her ear and, ever so quietly, he said, “I just wanted to taste your wet”—he glanced down to her mouth before looking her dead in the eyes—“cappuccino.”

A shiver raced through her, and as the elevator doors opened on their floor, she pushed her way past the remaining people inside, trying to put some space between her and the arrogant ass somewhere behind her. She waited until she was safely inside her office, away from Evan’s penetrating gaze, to pull down the sleeve.

Movement out of the corner of her eye had her looking up, and she saw Evan peering around her office door watching her. He’d probably been watching the whole time.
Dammit.
 

“Make sure to include your address in your snappy comeback email,” he said, and disappeared before she could even begin to formulate a response.
 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

REAGAN TWISTED A lock of her long blond hair deftly around the curling iron and held it there for a few moments before letting it fall in a bouncy ringlet down her chest. She never wore her hair like this, preferring a sleek updo or light waves down her back, but she was feeling a bit nostalgic after the constant barrage of dreams she’d had this week.
 

It didn’t surprise her that Evan hadn’t had an inkling of who she was. He was, after all,
her
childhood crush, and being the little sister of his best friend had made her invisible most of the time. Not to mention, she barely resembled the girl she used to be. That little girl had chocolate curls and an easygoing smile, still innocent to the way the world worked. Until…

Reagan put down the curling iron and ran her fingers through the ringlets to soften them a bit, thinking back to when her whole world had come crashing down the week before her eighth birthday.

“Troy!”

Jennifer heard her father call throughout the house as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror getting ready for school. She was waiting for her mother to come and help her with her curls that she’d started wearing after seeing her favorite TV star with a head full of ringlets.
 

“Troy!”
 

As her dad called out again, she made her way to the door and looked down the stairs to where he stood looking up at her.

“Oh, Jenny. Is your brother up there?”

With a quick shake of her head, she frowned at her father as he mumbled under his breath and told her, “You won’t be going to school today. Your mother and I need to talk to you, but first—Troy! Where is that boy?”

He turned and stormed away, presumably to track down her missing brother, leaving her standing there wondering what was going on.
 

Quietly, she made her way up the hall, careful not to make any noise as she approached her parents’ bedroom door. It was open just a crack, and as she got closer, she could hear soft sniffles—the sound of someone crying.
 

With a shaky hand, Jennifer reached for the door and pushed it open a little, spotting her mother sitting on the edge of her bed. Her head was bent, her hands were covering her face, and she seemed to be lost in her despair.

“Mom…” Jennifer’s voice shook as she tried to project it across the small space.

Her mother looked up, and as her bloodshot eyes found hers, she raised a hand toward her.

“Jenny.”

Jennifer took a timid step forward. “What’s going on? Daddy is upset too.”

Her mother wiped a tear from her cheek before patting the bedspread beside her. “Come here, baby girl. It’s okay.”

She moved around to the side of the bed and sat down beside her mother, her legs swinging off the floor as she fiddled with her hands in her lap.

“We got some bad news today, and we need to talk to you and Troy about it before you…well, before other people do. That’s all.”

Confused, she asked, “What do you mean?”

Her mom took her hands in hers and pulled her close to her side before stroking a hand down her hair.

“It’s about Rocky’s family, Jenny.”

She tried to piece together what her mother could possibly mean, but came up with nothing.

“We won’t be seeing him anymore.”

“OW, SHIT,” REAGAN cursed as her hand accidentally brushed the hot iron. After turning on the cold water, she stuck her hand underneath, wincing slightly at the initial sting of pain. Glancing at her cell, she noticed it was getting close to the time she’d planned to meet Evan, so with one final pass under the water, she shut the faucet off and grabbed the Neosporin from the medicine cabinet to her left. Then she applied a thick smear and gave herself one last look in the mirror.
 

Even though she hadn’t promised to obey Evan’s “cup commands,” she’d never had any intention of not following through. On any count.
 

The fuck-me heels were high, the panties were nonexistent, and the strapless skintight black dress she wore was short enough to be indecently sexy, but long enough for her not to pass as a street hooker.
 

The only thing she couldn’t manage to put on was the bra he’d returned, but only because it was impossible to wear underneath that particular dress. It was spritzed with her favorite perfume and tucked into her handbag in case he accused her of reneging on their bet.
 

All right, Evan James. Bring it on.

* * *

THE TOWN CAR waiting outside her apartment had been a surprise. Though she’d refused to give him her address and had stipulated she’d meet him at the venue, he’d managed to find it anyway and had transportation waiting to escort her there—alone.
 

She smiled as she gazed out at the river below, watching the lights of the Brooklyn Bridge dance across the top of the water as they drove across it, leaving the city behind them. The flutter in her stomach made her feel like she was eight again, giddy and excited about seeing Evan’s handsome face. For all his faults, and she was well aware of them, he really was charming when he wanted to be.
 

The unruly brown hair he’d never been able to tame back then was a bit more manageable now, and his face had taken on a rugged, manly look, erasing his boyish features, but his eyes—his eyes were the constant. They were the color of aged whiskey, but back then she had always compared them to the honey that Miss Rodgers down the street had bottled up and sent by the case to their house every year. But no, Evan was certainly not sweet like honey; he was more the hot sting left behind by the bee.

As the car pulled up in front of a cobbled path, Reagan peered out to see twinkling lights scattered throughout the branches hanging in an arch over the walkway. The plants and flowers lining the pavers were also lit up by garden floodlights, adding to the romantic ambience of the place as she pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the curb.
 

Looking at her surroundings, Reagan had to consciously keep her mouth from falling open.
 

The place was stunning. Breathtaking, actually, and there was no way in hell that this could be mistaken as anything other than a play to impress.

And score one for Evan. I’m impressed.

Clutching her handbag by her side, she all of a sudden felt like a nervous wreck. No doubt thanks to the Town Car, the restaurant and—

“Reagan?”

—the man.

Turning her head, she spied him standing off to the side of the entrance, dressed immaculately in a black suit, black tie, and tailored white shirt. In the left pocket of his jacket was a neatly folded handkerchief. He’d never looked sexier.

Swallowing her nerves, she willed herself to pull it together and also reminded herself not to think about how hot he looked,
because hello—no panties.
 

She made her way over to where he was standing and didn’t miss for one second the way his eyes ate her up with every step she took. Apparently she had pleased him, because when she stopped in front of him and raised her eyes, he swiped his tongue along his lower lip and said, “So…I see you do know how to follow orders. Although I have to say, you far exceeded my expectations.”

With a seductive wink, she leaned in and placed a hand on the lapel of his jacket and said, “Thank you. And just so we’re clear, I followed every
single
order, right down to the bare essentials.”

Evan’s eyes roamed down her body, as if he would be able to see through her dress, and then quickly found hers again. “You mean…”

“Oh yes, I mean
bare
.”

“Fuck me,” he said under his breath.
 

As his gaze made its way back up to hers, the look in his eyes almost stole the air from her lungs. She couldn’t move for a long moment and then, finally, she looked away self-consciously and decided to break the tension in the air.

“But you haven’t even bought me dinner yet,” she teased.

His expression stayed serious as he reached for her waist and held her still, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Though she couldn’t find the words to respond, a smile swept across her face, and his hand on her waist moved down to grab her hand.
 

“Shall we?” he asked, and she linked her fingers through his and squeezed in acknowledgment.
 

He led her inside the intimate space, and the first thing she noticed was the wall-to-floor glass on the left side of the room, showcasing the spectacular Manhattan skyline.

Their table was situated directly in front of the glass, adorned with a fresh bouquet of roses, candles, and intricately carved wine goblets, while the soft sounds of the grand piano played from the corner of the room. Taking the seat Evan pulled out for her, she almost pinched herself that she was here, now, with him.
 

Not quite sure where to begin, she glanced down at the white tablecloth, looking for the napkin and cutlery—but the table was empty save for the napkin.

Glancing across at where Evan sat, she saw a crafty smile pull across his lips.

“Looking for something?” he asked as she turned to look at the people seated next to them. It wasn’t until right at that moment she noticed they were eating with…their fingers.

Spinning back to face him, she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Where’s the silverware?”

Evan chuckled, and she had a feeling her consternation was amusing him greatly.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? This is a fine-dining finger-food restaurant. So that means I get to sit here and watch you suck and lick those long, elegant fingers of yours, and it has nothing to do with sex…it’s purely for nutritional purposes.”  

Reagan licked her lips then and had to admit she loved this sneaky, cheeky side of Evan. It appealed to her in every way imaginable.

“Really? You
really
picked a place where I would sit across from you and basically stimulate you all evening for the price of a meal? It better be a damn good one, Evan,” she said, and hoped in the back of her mind that he was becoming as aroused by the looks and conversation as she was.

“I have a feeling it’s going to be worth the discomfort of an hour or two, to say the least.”

Feeling slightly less out of place, and a lot more smug at his admission, Reagan picked up a menu and sat back in her chair. Reading over the choices, she felt a sassy smirk hit her lips as she raised her eyes and pinned him with a molten stare.