Always Wanting (Consumed, Book One 1)

by Alex Grayson

  The loud bang of the door shutting bounces off the walls. I sag back against it, pissed at myself for letting him get to me.

  Fucking jerk has no right to think he knows anything about me. He doesn’t know my situation. He doesn’t know what I go through on a daily basis. He has no fucking clue how hard I’ve fought with myself over my addiction.

  I angrily snatch my shirt off the floor and stomp back to my bedroom, ignoring the pain that’s still lingering in my chest.

  Chapter Four

  Abby

  Monday afternoon has me running around, picking things up off the floor and putting them in their right places. Screams, cries, and laughter fill the air around me, but I’d learned a long time ago how to filter out the noises I should be concerned with. I bend and scoop up several blocks and put them in the bin that’s up against the wall. I slip crayons back into their boxes, and close coloring books. Books go back on their shelves, and Barbie’s and GI Joe’s return to their toy boxes.

  I feel a small tug on my shirt and look down. A pair of sweet brown eyes stare up at me.

  “Miss Kade, I gotta use da bafroom,” little Lizzy says, dancing around on her toes, doing the pee pee dance.

  You ask why I can control my addiction during the day? I deal with little munchkins from nine-to-five, five days a week at Kidz Korner Day Care Center. Kids are one thing that can wilt any sexual desire. They are also the reason I religiously use a condom. There’s no way I’m having any accidental babies. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, you have to in my line of work, but being around them for forty hours a week gives you a new appreciation for the condom industry. It’s a dream of mine to have a house full of them one day, but I know that’s a dream that will probably never come true. Instead, I come to work every day and watch, along with three other ladies, thirteen kids, ranging from six months to five years old, and I love every single one of them.

  Today is Lizzy’s first day at the center, and she’s one of the sweetest little girls I’ve ever met. She’s four years old, and according to Mrs. Morris, her grandmother recently took over custody, because her mother is in a drug rehab facility. Her father died before she was born. My heart broke for the beautiful little girl.

  I smile and hold out my hand for her to take, which she does trustingly. “Come on, sweetie, I’ll take you.”

  I bring her to the two stall bathroom that’s connected to the classroom. Standing outside the small stall, I wait for her to do her business, then we both wash our hands before walking out. I noticed that she didn’t talk much today, and wonder if it has anything to do with her living arrangements before she came to live with her grandmother. Or, it could simply be her being in a new place. I hope it’s the latter.

  She keeps hold of my hand when I loosen my grip to let hers go. I tighten mine back and walk her over to a table out of the way of the many screaming and rambunctious kids. When we both take a seat, something that’s a little difficult for me with the tiny chairs and my not-so-tiny behind, her eyes dart around to all the kids running around. It’s coming up on five o’clock, so the kids know it’s about time to leave.

  There’s a coloring book and a box of crayons that haven’t been put away yet. I push it across to Lizzy, and she immediately grabs them.

  “How did you like your first day, Lizzy?” I ask, trying to draw her out.

  She pulls a red crayon out of the box and starts coloring the only way a four-year-old can; way outside the lines.

  Seconds later, she lifts her big brown eyes to me and says, “I wiked it.”

  I smile, and she goes back to coloring. I lean over and watch as she does.

  “You’re doing a great job, sweetie!” I praise, which earns me a beautiful smile.

  She puts the red crayon on the table and pulls out an orange. Her tongue peeks out at the corner of her mouth as she concentrates and tries to color the dress of the little girl in the picture.

  “Did you have fun?” I keep my eyes on the paper as she continues to color.

  “Uh-huh,” she answers, now picking a blue from the box and starts coloring the boy’s face.

  “Did you make any friends?”

  She lifts her head and looks over at some of the kids that are being helped by their parents, slipping on their jackets.

  “I wike Ashwey. She’s my fwiend.”

  Ashley Michaels. She’s another one of my favorites. She’s five years old, and as cute as a button. She’s also one of the more outspoken kids, who’s not shy at all.

  Just to prove my point, Ashley waves frantically and screeches across the room, “Bye-bye, Lizzy! We’ll play more tomowow!”

  Lizzy smiles big and drops her blue crayon, waving back at Ashley. She watches her leave with her mom, then grabs the green out of the box and commences to scribble lines across the grass on the picture.

  I sit silently, watching her color for a few more moments. Many of the kids have left with their parents, leaving only me, Lizzy, Mrs. Morris, and a handful of kids behind.

  I’m just about to ask Lizzy what her favorite color is, when she says softly, “I miss my mommy.”

  My heart cracks wide open with her sad words. She’s still looking down at her paper, but her hand has slowed down. The sorrow in her voice brings tears to my eyes. This precious four-year-old should never have to go through such grief. Her mom may still be alive, but to a child this young, being away from their parents for days, weeks, months at a time, seems like a lifetime to them.

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

  She looks up at me and the tears I see swimming in her eyes has me reaching forward to gather her in my arms. I can’t stand for a child to cry. They are so innocent, and should never be brought to tears.

  I soothingly rub her back as she lays her head on my shoulder. She doesn’t cry loudly. She’s not screaming, or hiccupping, or crying uncontrollably. If it wasn’t for the quiet sniffles and the dampness on my shirt, I wouldn’t know she was crying. She’s doing it softly and delicately, which makes the pain in my chest worse. I want to cry with her, but I know I have to be strong.

  I hold her until she lifts her head. I look at her to make sure she’s okay, but her eyes aren’t on me. She jumps from my lap and rushes away. I turn to see what’s captured her attention, and am stunned to find her being lifted into a pair of familiar strong arms.

  “Unca Colt!” she yells.

  He smiles down at her, then murmurs something against her forehead after he kisses it. When he lifts his head, his eyes land on mine and widen in surprise. I’m still pissed at his comment from the other night.

  I stand from the chair when he walks toward me with Lizzy still in his arms. He responds to whatever she’s saying in his ear, but his eyes stay glued to me.

  He puts Lizzy down on her tiny legs once he’s standing in front of me and squats to her level. “Lizzy, honey, why don’t you go grab your stuff while me and Miss Abby talk for a few minutes.”

  “Dat’s Miss Kade, silly,” Lizzy informs him with a silly grin. I’m glad to see the sadness gone. It always amazes me how kids can bounce back so fast.

  I smile, while Blue laughs. “Well, excuse me, ma’am.” Lizzy giggles. “Why don’t you go grab your stuff while me and Miss Kade talk.”

  “Otay,” she says, skipping off merrily to the hooks where coats and bags hang.

  Blue stands and takes a step closer to me. His woodsy and soap scent assaults my senses, making it hard to think. I’m supposed to be mad at this guy, not having my insides turn to mush. I push back the unwanted feelings.

  “Everything okay?” he asks. He’s not referring to me, but Lizzy. He had to have seen her tearstained face.

  “Yes.” He’s too close to me, so I take a step back from him. “Everything’s fine. She was just upset, said she missed her mom. I was comforting her.”

  He nods in understanding, turning to see Mrs. Morris help Lizzy with her coat. When he faces me again, worry pulls his brows down. I ignore the feeling that look gives me.


  He opens his mouth to speak, but I talk over him.

  “You’re her uncle?”

  “Yes. My mother was recently given custody of her. She had an appointment today, and asked me to pick her up.”

  “She’s a beautiful and sweet little girl.”

  He nods. “She is. Thank you.”

  I shift on my feet when we both grow quiet. The room suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, and twice as small as it did before he walked in. I have no idea why this guy affects me so much, especially after his hurtful comment to me Saturday night. Just the sight of him should disgust me, but looking at him right now, in his dark-gray suit pants, navy blue tie that’s loosened around his neck, light gray dress shirt, sexy blue eyes, and light stubble gracing his face, it does just the opposite. I want to crawl up his body and do naughty things to him.

  For the first time since I started working at the day care center, I feel a small twinge of pain in the pit of my stomach. The cramps normally don’t come until a couple hours after I’ve left work. I blame it on the guy in front of me.

  The bastard.

  I look around and see Lizzy is the last child left; all the others have been picked up. Mrs. Morris is kneeling in front of Lizzy, talking quietly with her. I bring my eyes back to Blue, to find him watching me. One corner of his mouth is tipped up into a smirk, like he caught me checking him out seconds ago.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him again. I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. A reminder of that night is the last thing I need. He’s already gotten to me enough.

  “Lizzy’s mom, is she your sister?” I ask, hoping he’ll forget whatever he was going to say.

  The heated look he had before disappears immediately. He now appears somber, sad even, like the subject is a sore one. I feel a touch of guilt for making him think of something that’s obviously painful.

  He stays silent for so long, I think he’s not going to answer me, but then he says quietly, “No, she’s my brother’s widow.”

  “Oh.” Now I feel like shit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t be. It was years ago.”

  It obviously still hurts him, though. Lizzy is only four years old, so his brother’s death couldn’t have been more than five years ago, which isn’t that long when you lose someone you love.

  “Abby, I’d like—”

  This time when he tries to talk, it’s not me that interrupts him.

  “Unca Colt, can we get ice cweam on da way home?” Lizzy asks, running up to her uncle. I can’t help but smile at the earnest look she gives him with her big brown eyes.

  His lips quirk up into a smile when he bends to her level again. I like that he doesn’t tower over her when he speaks to her.

  “We can, but it’s going to be our secret. Don’t tell Grandma, or she’ll have my butt for giving you ice cream before dinner. Deal?”

  She nods her head vigorously and says, “Deal!” She kisses his cheek, and my heart melts a little.

  Blue chuckles and climbs to his feet, lovingly patting her head. I laugh as she jumps up and down in excitement at the prospect of getting ice cream with her uncle. She obviously loves him a great deal. The feeling is mutual by the way he looks at her.

  Blue faces me when I laugh, but I turn away from him, gathering up the crayons and coloring book Lizzy was using. I walk over to the shelf to store the coloring book and place the crayons in the bin. Blue’s still watching me once I’m done.

  “It was great having Lizzy today,” I tell him, giving myself something to say. I wish he would leave. Being near him isn’t helping my libido. “I look forward to seeing her again tomorrow.”

  “Can we talk privately?”

  I force a smile and portray remorse when I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Mrs. Morris and I still have several things we need to do here before we leave.” There’s no way I can be alone with him right now.

  He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t like my answer from the barely visible tick in his jaw.

  “Come on, Unca Colt!” Lizzy yells from across the room. “Let’s get some ice cream!”

  He looks at me for several more seconds, before turning to walk to Lizzy, who is not so patiently waiting for him at the door.

  He only takes a few steps, before he turns back to me. “I’ll see you later,” he says pointedly.

  I’m not sure what he means by that, but I give him a shrug anyway.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, my eyes watch his ass as he walks out the door, him and Lizzy holding hands.

  Later that evening, me, Ava, and Nathan are back at Blackie’s. Tegan had to work late, and didn’t know if he’d be able to make it later or not. I’m hoping tonight goes better than last night. I down my fourth shot of straight Jack and slam the glass down on the table, trying my damnedest to ignore the bastard cramps and shakes. The burn down my throat isn’t as strong as it was for the first two shots.

  My eyes catch Nathan looking at me, worried.

  “What are you looking at?” I yell over the loud music, proud that my voice only slurs slightly.

  He leans over the table to be heard better and asks, “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I play dumb.

  Dumb is one thing Nathan isn’t. He’s quiet and watchful, and always knows when something is off with one of us. Tonight is no different.

  “You’ve been off the last couple days.”

  “Have not,” I mumble, but he still catches it.

  He raises his brow, not ready to let me get away with my answer. He knows for a fact I’ve been off, especially last night.

  I look away from him when I say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Just as I’d feared, he doesn’t let it go. He reaches across and turns my head back with a finger to my chin.

  “Is it about that guy you met Saturday night?”

  I love Nathan, but sometimes I really don’t like him. He never lets me just stew in my feelings in peace. Of course, after using him the way I did last night, I guess he does kind of deserve to know what’s going on.

  I came to Blackie’s with the same intentions as every other night; to find a guy that’ll satisfy my addiction. Last night was different, though. The cramps and shakes were worse than normal, and I was drenched in sweat, but there wasn’t one guy in the place that appealed to me. There were plenty to choose from, and I tried—I fucking tried hard—to find someone that would fit what I needed, but not one damn guy was acceptable for what I was looking for. My body was giving me mixed feelings. I felt the insistent need to have sex, but I also felt revulsion for any guy I looked at.

  And I have no doubt it’s all fucking Colt’s fault.

  Blue.

  Frustrated and pissed, I called Nathan and told him I couldn’t find anyone to take care of my problem. He was at Blackie’s thirty minutes later, picking me up and taking me home. Some people might find it weird to sleep with their best friend, or find it hard to keep feelings apart from the experience. Nathan and I, even Tegan and I, the few times I’ve slept with him, have never had that problem. We all love each other, but we’re not in love.

  I pick up the next shot glass filled with whiskey and down it, before looking back at Nathan, who’s still waiting on my answer.

  “I have no clue what it is about him, but I can’t get him out of my head,” I admit. “It’s stupid, huh? I just met him. Not to mention the fact it’s not like I can start a real relationship with him,” I finish bitterly. I may have accepted and embraced my sex addiction, but that doesn’t mean I don’t resent it sometimes.

  Nathan gets up from his seat and moves to the one beside me that Ava was using until she decided to go dance. He slings his arm around the back of my seat, pulling me close. His spicy smell fills my nose. I look over at him and feel the pain in my stomach intensify. He really is one sexy man.

  “It’s not stupid, Abs,” his deep voice rumbles. “It’s completely normal
to come across a guy you may want more with. You knew this might happen one day.”

  He stops talking, but I see the wheels turning in his head, like he wants to say more, but isn’t sure if he should. A minute later, I realize why he was hesitant to continue.

  “Maybe you should consider going back to the support group.”

  My head is already shaking before he can finish his sentence. I have to steady myself when a wave of dizziness takes hold. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last shot. I’m going to really regret this in the morning when I have to get up at seven to get ready for work. It’s still early, but a hangover is a hangover, and when you deal with a bunch of small children, it really, really sucks.

  “No. We both know they don’t do shit for us.”

  His eyes hold sympathy as he looks down at me. “Maybe it’ll work if you have the right motivation.”

  “I doubt it. Besides, Blue is just some random guy that has me tied in knots at the moment. That doesn’t mean it could ever be anything serious. I don’t even know his last name.”

  “Blue?” he asks.

  I look away and reach for one of the empty shot glasses and twirl it around. “It’s what I call him.”

  “Maverick.” Nathan says next, confusing me.

  “What?”

  “His last name. It’s Maverick,” he supplies. His eyes leave mine for a minute while he scans the room, before bringing them back to my baffled face.

  “How do you know that?”

  He shrugs and picks up his own shot, throwing it back. “He’s been to the building I do security for before. He’s some rich guy that owns his own company, and does business with the owner of Silver Technologies.”

  I sit back in my seat and take in his words. I knew Blue had money, just from looking at him, but to own his own company?

  “Have you kissed him?” Nathan says next, earning a scowl from me.

  “Of course not. You know I don’t kiss the guys I sleep with.”

  In seven years, the only guys I’ve kissed are Nathan and Tegan, and that’s only because I know it’s safe with them.