Addicted To Him

by Monica Murphy

  Christ, another f-bomb. She keeps this up, I might come in my jeans.

  “I’m not using you to get revenge on your brother,” I tell her, my voice somber. “If you want the truth, Jake is the last person I’m thinking about right now.”

  “Oh.” She swallows hard. “Well, if you’re just using me, I can deal with that,” she continues, her voice small, those words way more powerful than the f-bombs.

  Say what?

  “Because I need some sort of—outlet too.” She casts a shy look my way, and I lean in closer, drawn to her like she’s a magnet and I’m a giant steel rod.

  More like I’m sporting a giant steel rod in my jeans.

  “What exactly are you saying right now?” I need to be very sure.

  Very, very sure.

  Ava turns to face me, her expression switching from shy and unsure to bold and all-knowing. It’s hot. She’s hot. Everything about her just does it for me. And then she says words I’ve been dying to hear since two years ago when I first spotted her in the stands talking to her mom.

  “We can use each other,” she says, her voice strong and clear. “You can find your revenge and I’ll find my…”

  Her voice drifts. She doesn’t say anything else.

  “Find your what?” I ask.

  Twenty-Five

  Ava

  Find my happiness. Find my purpose. Find…something for me to focus on. Maybe I can heal him. Maybe he can heal me.

  But what the hell do I need to heal from? My life is perfect. I have loving parents. My brothers and sister are good to me. I do well in school. I have friends. I’m in leadership, on the cheer team. I should be on top of the world.

  So why do I feel so empty inside?

  Why does it always feel like I get lost in the shuffle? My parents are so busy right now, I barely see them, especially Dad. I don’t have a lot of friends. No one actually sees me for who I really am.

  Except Eli.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say with a soft laugh and a quick shake of my head. “I just want to…feel.”

  His expression morphs from amazement to pure sex in a matter of seconds. “I can make you feel.”

  His voice is dark. Gravelly. I wait for him to say something else, do something else. Anticipation curls within me, leaving me breathless.

  “Feel what?” I whisper.

  He settles his big hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What exactly do you want, Ava?”

  I love it when he says my name. I love it when he looks at me the way he’s currently studying me. As if he’s trying to figure me out. Yet he’s still completely in the dark. I am mysterious to no one. Everyone thinks they have me figured out.

  Except Eli.

  “I don’t know.” My voice is hushed. My skin prickling with goosebumps. My heart is beating so fast, I feel like I can’t catch my breath.

  “Ah, but I think you do.” He releases my knee and scoots even closer, just before he presses his fingers against the side of my neck.

  I close my eyes, focusing everything on that one spot where we’re connected. I just sit there, completely still with the exception of breathing. He caresses my throat with light fingers, much like he touched my steering wheel earlier, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with lust. My breasts feel heavy. My nipples are hard. Between my legs, I’m throbbing.

  And he’s only touching my neck.

  “How far have you gone?” he asks.

  I keep my eyes closed, hating how hot my face becomes at his question. “What do you mean?”

  “Sexually? How far have you taken it?”

  “The farthest I’ve ever gone is with…” I crack open my eyes. “You. Remember?”

  “I just wanted to hear you say it again.” He’s so close. Closer than he was only a minute ago. I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, shock coursing through me when I see all that hunger in his eyes.

  Hunger for me.

  “Remember what I said the night of the party at the lake?” he asks, his brows lifting slightly when I frown.

  Of course I remember.

  If we keep this up, we’re never going back. Those lips of yours touch my cock? I’m yours. My fingers slip between your legs and make you come? You’re mine.

  Eli touches my cheek, his fingers drifting down to whisper over my lips before he drops them. “I meant every damn word. I still do. Once this happens, there’s no going back. You better make damn sure this is what you want, Ava. I’m not playing games.”

  Unable to stop myself, I touch his cheek in return, my fingers skimming over the cut in his skin. He winces when I touch the red and purple bruise. “What happened here?”

  He looks away, keeping his gaze averted as he says, “Got into an argument.”

  “With who?”

  “My mom.”

  Shock courses through me as I keep touching the tender wound. “Your mom did this to you?”

  “Don’t tell anyone, okay? When she slapped me, her ring must’ve been turned so it cut me too.” His gaze returns to mine, and there’s worry there. He’s protecting her. Why?

  “She slapped you?” My voice rises. I’m pissed. I can’t believe she hit him. She’s his mother. She’s supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

  “We were arguing. She had a little too much to drink. I said some shitty things. I deserved it,” he says firmly, his face like a stone mask. He does not want to talk about this.

  “No one ever deserves to be hit,” I say softly as I come closer to him, my fingers still on his face. I wonder how much his mother drinks. If she does it all the time. He makes it seem like she does.

  And where’s his dad? Why is he never around, involved in Eli’s life? Does he even go to Eli’s games? He never mentions his father. It’s like they ignore him.

  I can sort of relate.

  “Don’t forget you slapped me that one time,” Eli reminds me and I immediately feel terrible.

  “I know.” I swallow hard, regret filling me. “I still feel bad about it, too.”

  His smile is faint. “It’s okay.”

  Eli’s easy forgiveness makes me feel better, though I suppose I’m no better than his mother.

  I lightly touch the bruise again, making him grimace. “Did it hurt?”

  “Like a bitch,” he admits.

  I rise up onto my knees on the couch and clutch either side of his head in my hands, dipping down to press a light kiss to the cut, my lips barely touching his skin. He sucks in a harsh breath, and I can only assume he’s surprised I would do this.

  The moment is symbolic. I know this won’t heal him. But I want Eli to know that no matter what, I’m on his side.

  I want to take care of him.

  He closes his eyes, his lips parted, his face tilted upward as a little groan of pleasure escapes him. I kiss the skin just below the cut. The bruise. His nose. His forehead. His temple. I murmur words into his flesh, though I have no idea what I’m really saying. All I can do is focus on the salty taste of his skin, his scent, how I want more. So much more.

  “Fuck, what are you doing to me?” he asks, and he sounds as if he’s in complete agony.

  I know the feeling. I understand it. He’s making me crazy. My heart hurts at the thought of his mother slapping his beautiful face. I can’t imagine my mother ever doing something like that to any of us.

  “Why did she hit you?” I whisper close to his mouth.

  “She was drunk. We were arguing about my father.”

  His voice is full of pain. This is as real as it gets right now.

  “Why?”

  “She got mad at me because I called her out on her bullshit. So she threatened to send me to live with him. Pull me out of school, pull me off of the team. Take away everything I care about so she can make my life miserable,” he says.

  My heart sinks. No. He can’t leave. Not now.

  “I’m almost eighteen. They can’t argue over custody about me. I’m too fucking old.” He turns his head, our mouths are aligned. “
I hate them.”

  His lips move against mine when he speaks, sending tingles scattering all over my body. “I hate them too,” I whisper.

  “You don’t even know them,” he says with the faintest smile. I think it pleases him that I would say that. That I would so easily take his side.

  “It doesn’t matter. They hurt you.” I slip my hand into his soft hair and run my fingers through it as I watch him. His entire face relaxes the longer I stroke his hair, and I get a thrill out of giving him pleasure. I lean in once more, my mouth barely touching his as I whisper, “I hate them so much.”

  Eli’s lips part, and he captures my lower lip with his teeth before he releases it. “You going to take me up as your charity case, Callahan? Because I’ve got news for you.” He catches my lip again, biting so hard I swear he draws blood. “I don’t really want your charitable assistance.”

  “You’re not a charity case,” I say, annoyed he would even suggest I feel that way.

  “I hear you take up causes.” He says the words nonchalantly, but I see something in his gaze. Like he’s feeling defensive.

  “You’ve heard that about me?” I’m surprised. Why would anyone care what I’m doing?

  “I might’ve asked around about you before.” He shrugs and looks away.

  “When?” I ask softly, resting my hand on his cheek and gently forcing him to look at me. “When did you first ask about me?”

  He’s so close. Everything inside of me feels on edge. Like I’m about to fall out of the sky with no net to catch me. “Two years ago,” he admits.

  I’m shocked. “Why?”

  “Saw your pretty face sitting with your mama and I had to know.”

  I ignore the fluttering in my chest at his compliment. “Had to know what?”

  “If you really were a Callahan,” he answers. A smile teases the corner of his lips. “Unfortunately, you are.”

  It’s unfortunate that he is who he is as well. “We shouldn’t do this,” I tell him.

  “Oh, I know. But the thing is, I want to do this.” He presses his mouth to mine in the softest, dreamiest kiss, pulling away before I can close my eyes and really get into it. “What do you want to do?”

  Leaning forward, I kiss him. I part his lips with mine. I slip my tongue inside his mouth. I circle it around his, over and over, until I’m a trembling, overeager mess. He grabs hold of me, his hand clamped on the back of my head, yanking out my ponytail before he threads his fingers through my hair. His touch is possessive, and I like it. I want it.

  I want him to claim me. Make me his.

  We kiss for long, delicious minutes, until I finally break away to catch my breath. I say nothing and neither does he, though I shift my body just enough, so he’s able to wrap his arms around my waist and rest his head directly on my chest. His mouth is mere inches from my right nipple, and I can feel his warm breath feathering across my sports bra. My skin. My nipple tightens. Aches. Everything inside of me aches for this broken, angry boy.

  Pressing my cheek on top of his head, I close my eyes and hold him. He clings to me, and we sit like this for a few minutes, until finally we start to move away from each other, both of us suddenly awkward. Not meeting each other’s gazes, as if we’re embarrassed.

  This isn’t how we normally operate. He’s the cocky, flippant man boy, and I’m the girl who’s secretly fascinated by his obvious lust for me. Now after a couple of confessions and an electric kissing session, it’s like we can barely look at each other.

  “Want to go outside?” I suggest.

  He frowns. “You’ll be cold.”

  I shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

  Sending me a doubtful look, he climbs off the couch and stretches his arms above his head, his T-shirt lifting and revealing a delectable sliver of his perfect abs. I stare in fascination at that little glimpse of skin while he speaks to me.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask as he heads toward the back of the cabin.

  He turns, walking backward, pointing his index finger at me. “Give me a second.”

  What are we doing? I glance around the room nervously, then leap to my feet and start pacing, nerves eating at my insides and leaving me restless.

  Eli is back within seconds, a giant blanket stuffed under one arm. “Let’s go,” he says, as he passes me on his way to the door. He opens it and glances over his shoulder at me, titling his head. “Come on.”

  With a huff I follow after him, shivering the moment the cool air hits my bare skin. It may still get warm during the day, but at night, the temperature drops considerably, especially when the sun sinks behind the mountains. As we go through September and into October, it’ll only get colder.

  And here I am, prancing around in sweatpants and my sports bra. If Brandy saw me in my cheer shoes right now, she’d probably have a heart attack. She is always telling us we have to keep our shoes clean, that they’re a part of our uniform.

  I shove all thoughts of cheer and shoes and Brandy straight out of my mind and concentrate on the boy walking ahead of me with determined steps. I run to catch up with him, noticing the bottle of beer he must’ve stashed in the back pocket of his jeans. I’m pleasantly surprised when he grabs my hand and tugs me closer.

  “We’re going to the lake,” he says. “And I have a blanket.”

  “And beer,” I tell him.

  “Liquid courage, babe.” He grins at me. “I think I’m going to need it.”

  No he won’t, I think as we head through the thick grove of pine trees. He doesn’t know it yet but…

  When it comes to Eli, I’m pretty much a sure thing.

  Twenty-Six

  Eli

  I’m fucking nervous as hell, and I don’t know why. I’ve been with girls. I’ve fucked around. I’ve had a lot of hookups. We usually only mess around, never quite getting to the serious fucking stage. I’ve actually had sex with only two girls. Neither of them named Cami Lockhart.

  That bitch just told everyone I fucked her. Yes, she sucked my dick. Yes, I fingered her, but she faked her orgasm and that turned me off.

  Anyway, I don’t know why I’m thinking about all the girls I’ve been with in my past when I’m currently walking with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever been lucky enough to kiss, let alone touch. She’s currently holding my hand and looking hot as hell, wearing the sweatpants that ride low on her flaring hips and that black sports bra with the white Nike swoosh right in the middle of it.

  I tend to like bigger tits on a girl, but, damn Ava’s chest is perfect. Just like everything else about her. She’s still got the bow in her hair, which is cute.

  Clasping her hand in mine, I tug her closer as we walk through the trees. It’s colder in here, and she’s shivering. I can actually hear her teeth chattering. I pull her in and release her hand, slipping my arm around her bare shoulders. She comes closer to me happily, leaning her head against my chest for a brief moment before we continue heading for the shore.

  Once we break out of the trees, I spot an old log lying across the sand to the right of where we’re standing—the complete opposite side of where Ava puked a few weeks ago. I figure if we don’t venture over there, we won’t risk running into her old dried up vomit.

  Disgusting, but a person has to think of these things.

  “Let’s sit here,” I suggest, right before I shake out the blanket and then wrap it around my shoulders.

  She frowns. “Why do you get the blanket and I don’t?”

  “Just follow my lead, princess,” I tell her as I settle onto the ground, my back against the log. I spread my legs and pat the spot in between them. “Sit here.”

  Sending me a wary glance, she plops her perfect butt right in front of me, and I wrap my arms around her, bringing the blanket with me. She leans into me, her back to my front, her body fully covered by the blanket I snatched off one of the old beds in the cabin. She shifts a little to the right, then glances up at me with a smile.

&nbs
p; “This was a good idea.”

  “And you doubted me,” I tease her.

  She drops her head, smiling down at the ground. “You’re right. I did.”

  “I have all sorts of good ideas.” I press my cheek to hers, then we both glance up at the sky at the same time, getting lost in the stars.

  There aren’t as many shining tonight, only because the light of the moon obliterates them. But it’s still beautiful. The sky is dark, and if you tilt your head back, you can see the silhouette of the pines rising upward. She scooches closer to me, her ass nestled against my groin, and I give her a squeeze, pressing my cheek against hers and breathing deep.

  She smells like heaven. Like coconut and fancy tropical flowers that I don’t know the name of. “You’re still wearing your bow,” I tell her when it flaps in my face.

  Ava laughs. It’s a beautiful sound. “My coach is going to kill me if I lose it.”

  “Can I keep it?”

  “No way.” She turns to glare at me.

  “Please?” I tug on it and see that it’s connected to a black hair elastic. “I want it.”

  “What are you going to do with it?” Now she’s frowning. I bet I can convince her to let me have it.

  “Maybe you don’t want to know,” I say with a grin.

  “You’re so gross.” She wrinkles her nose.

  “I’m fucking kidding.” Leaning in, I drop a kiss on her still wrinkled nose. “Just—let me have something that belongs to you.”

  She leans away from me, bending her head forward, the ends of her ponytail sliding along the side of her neck. “Take it,” she says.

  I do as she says, unwinding it from her hair, realizing she has another hair tie on beneath, so her ponytail stays intact. I wrap the black elastic band around my wrist and wave my hand back and forth, the ends of the white bow flopping around. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re weird,” she says, her voice laced with humor.

  “Like I said, I want something that belongs to you. That’s uniquely yours,” I tell her.