Counting On You

by J. C. Reed

  I burst out in laughter.

  A sex addiction makes so much sense. Why didn’t I think of that? After all, he wasn’t exactly stroking little bunnies in that bathroom. Besides, who in their right mind can’t control their urge to jerk off in the knowledge that someone could barge in any minute?

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Marlene asks. Her smile is gone; her tone is hard, on edge. Maybe this was all a test…which I’ve just failed, and she’ll report back to the judge.

  I might never see Bruce again.

  “No.” I clear my throat. “Not at all. You can rest assured that I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. You’ll find everything you need to know in your leaflet. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, she turns her attention back to the group, dismissing me.

  Heading back to my apartment, I barely notice the blonde bumping into me.

  “Sorry.” I look up. It takes me a second or two to remember her name.

  “They placed me in the wrong apartment,” Sylvie says.

  “Me, too.”

  Her features relax a little. “No way. Are you saying that—”

  “That I’ve been paired with a guy? Yes.”

  “Holy shit,” she mutters, then clasps a hand over her mouth. “Have you talked to someone? Are they really okay with this?”

  I nod my head. “Apparently, yes.” At her mortified expression, I laugh. “But you haven’t heard the best part yet.”

  Chapter Six

  Kaiden

  My grip on the razor tightens as I start to move it down the side of my face, leaving a smooth line behind. I rinse the razor under the cold water and bring it back up to my face, holding it close to my skin.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, but it’s not me who I see.

  It’s the vexed stare of my new roommate.

  Damn.

  It’s been at least half an hour since the bathroom incident, but I’m still worked up like a goddamn teenager in heat.

  My counselor mentioned her name, but I can’t remember. I can’t even focus on racking my brain to find that tidbit of information. All I can think about is how hot she is.

  My head is pounding, and fuck, my hands are still shaking.

  It’s not fear that’s squeezing my chest in her clutches. It’s pure, raw need and anticipation, all fueled by the knowledge that I’ll be seeing a lot of her.

  A lot.

  I’m not even sure why I’m surprised, but I am.

  When I arrived two days ago, I was told that I’d be partnered up with a woman. Apparently, sex addicts are now paired with love addicts. I was told something about knowing that a girl is obsessive and clingy being a huge turn-off and usually…I would agree.

  As soon as I hear the word commitment, my dick goes all limp. Limp like floppy, soft, put on your PJs and go straight under the covers because there’s not going to be any action tonight, ma’am.

  The only thing worse than obsessive and clingy is doing the same woman twice.

  I never do twice. That’s almost a relationship.

  I do one hook-up per woman; strictly one hook-up only.

  And lots of fucking, preferably in all kinds of shades and flavors.

  I aim to please, and I aim to return the favor, but I don’t do commitment. Not once; not twice. Never. The mere thought of a woman asking for my phone number causes my entire body to break out in a cold sweat.

  In my opinion, there’s nothing wrong with being different than the rest.

  But good gracious…my new roommate is a goddamn nutcase.

  And most importantly, she’s hot.

  If love were a cake, she would be the icing on it.

  There is no denying I would fuck her in a heartbeat if the chance presented itself.

  Her hair, long and curly, moved down past her breasts. Her breasts bounced as she stormed out. I could instantly tell from the way they moved that they were real. And I’m pretty sure she is a natural redhead, too. Even though I don’t really have a type, redheads with their fiery temperament and milky complexions are my weakness.

  Secretly, they’ve always been my favorite kind.

  There’s a fire burning inside them that can never be stifled.

  I bet she’s so wild in bed she’d let me continue to fuck her even after the bed breaks, which, judging from the quality of the mattress in my bedroom, won’t stand a chance once I get down and dirty.

  Something tells me she isn’t going to be quite as easy to get, though. She carries an air of dignity and aloofness, as if she’s used to keeping guys at arm’s length.

  It could be my imagination though.

  Could she be a nun?

  I so would do one, love addict or not. Except…she can’t be. She has a confidence about her that not every woman possesses.

  I think of her fiery, hazel eyes and feel my cock hardening again.

  Goddammit.

  A door opening and closing registers in the periphery of my mind, then footsteps—light and wary.

  It’s her.

  I know it with certainty because of the way my body reacts. Every muscle tenses and my heart begins to pump more blood directly to my crotch.

  Maybe she’s changed her mind and is about to ask for a little merry welcome party in my bedroom. The possibility gets me excited, makes me realize maybe this place isn’t as bad as I initially thought.

  The footsteps stop in front of my door. There’s a slight pause, as if she’s hesitating, plucking up the courage.

  Finally, a knock⎯strong for a woman her size.

  With a grin, I jump up, but as I open the door, I know with certainty that our little party will never happen.

  The surprise is short, but it wipes my grin right off my face.

  Fuck, the angry frown on her face makes her even more beautiful. She doesn’t turn her head away. She doesn’t glance at my dick or at my chest, two of my best features. Her eyes are focused solely on mine⎯penetrating and intense, and a hell of a lot challenging.

  “Can you please, for the love of God, put something on?” she says with disdain, as if my nakedness is annoying, something to be avoided.

  She even sounds bored.

  “Why?”

  She scowls, her gaze not leaving mine. “Because it’s rude to run around naked.”

  I cock my head to the side, taking her in from head to toe. I cannot help but smile. “What are you?”

  “What am I?”

  “A nun?”

  For a moment, she seems taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

  “Are you a nun?”

  She stares at me blankly before her brows shoot upward. “Wow. You’re a jerk with a capital J. What are you going to ask me next? Whether I’m the maid? Because I bet that’s the fantasy playing now right before your eyes.”

  I let out a snort.

  She has no idea.

  Really, I just can’t help myself. She isn’t just hot; she’s funny, too. That’s a sexy combination.

  “Well, are you?” I prompt.

  She scowls. “No, obviously.”

  “That’s too bad.” I cross my arms over my chest as I regard her with the kind of look that’s melted many panties. “I’ve been wondering if you’re—”

  “A nun? Into women? Something like that?” She looks at me, her hazel eyes shimmering with anger. “Why? Because I don’t like seeing you naked? Big newsflash. I’m none of those things. I’m just not impressed, that’s all.”

  “Huh.” Sounds like she’ll be panting my name by the end of the week.

  “Yeah.” She nods her head, as though to convince herself of the ridiculous statement she’s just made.

  “How come?” I take in her posture, the way she glares at me. Her perfume, a blend of roses, wafts past me, and I force myself not to inhale too deeply. In fact, I’m fighting the urge not to lean over and bury my nose into her skin, then lick my way down her neck to her breasts.

  “You seriously believe everyone wants to see you naked?” The annoyance i
s gone, replaced with disbelief.

  I cross my arms over my chest, unable to stop the hint of a smile creeping over my face. “Not everyone, no. But I’m sure most want to, you included.”

  She lets out a snort. “Well, you’re wrong, buddy. No woman with her head safely screwed on and a modicum of self-respect would want to unless she had no choice.”

  “I can assure you most of them plead with me to take off my clothes.” I grin at her. “So, why are you here again?”

  “I’m here to get treatment, just like you, even though I’m not…I’m not a…” she trails off as she waves her hand at me, “you know, I’m not like you.”

  The silence that follows is long and peaceful. Unlike her gaze, which is wild and doubtful and a little rebellious.

  I realize she’s waiting for me to say something, but I’m not going to help her out by declaring that she’s not a nutcase or that she doesn’t belong here.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Why are you here right now, standing in front of my bedroom door?”

  “I want to talk,” she says.

  “I’m not going to move out if that’s what you’re here for.”

  “I know. And I don’t expect you to.” She pauses, not returning my smile as she takes a long breath. “As strange as it may sound, apparently, we’ve been roomed together on purpose. So…” She trails off again, biting her lip as she eyes her hands. For a second, I can’t help but wonder if she’d slap me if I sucked that lower lip of hers between my teeth. But the opportunity vanishes the moment she looks up again, her expression softer.

  She really has the most beautiful eyes. Almond shaped. Framed by full lashes. Only the slightest hint of eyeliner and mascara. “Look, you can jerk off as much as you want. Honestly, I don’t care what you do. But if we’re to make this work—”

  “Will,” I cut in.

  She frowns. “Huh?”

  “You made it sound like there’s a possibility that we might fail. But we’re not going to. We are living together. We will make it work. Just pointing out a fact.”

  Not least because there’s no chance in Hell I’m losing my chair on the company board.

  Her features harden again; her eyes are ablaze with fury. Whatever thought’s riding her, it’s riding her hard. “Just be finished in ten. I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

  Her mouth stays open as if to say more, then she closes it, but her gaze lingers on my neck. “You might want to do something about the bleeding,” she says eventually.

  “What?”

  She spins around, slamming the door behind her.

  I reach up to my neck and realize there’s blood on my fingers. I must have been so engrossed in my thoughts of her that I cut myself while finishing up shaving and didn’t even realize it.

  Fuck.

  I didn’t even feel the pain.

  Thinking back, our little conversation was kind of hot.

  And she even encouraged me to finish up. At least in my mind she did when she gave me ten minutes to finish up shaving

  Maybe I should listen to her and finish what I started.

  My hand travels south, and I exhale a sharp breath in surprise. I’m still completely hard. Our little confrontation has turned me on. My grip tightens around my cock, but I can’t bring myself to resume the action.

  I’m so close to my goal—too close. After my assistant, I managed to squeeze in the neighbor right before heading for rehab.

  One more conquest, and my 365-day, non-stop sex calendar is complete.

  The truth hits me like a train.

  Damn.

  Why am I stuck with a sexy nutcase as my roommate? The rules are clear: all other patients are completely off-limits.

  I even had to sign a damn admissions release that I’d abide by those rules.

  Talk about callous and unfair.

  But what if she hasn’t signed hers yet?

  The rules would be broken by only one of the parties involved in the tryst, so it would be a “glass half-full/half-empty” kind of situation.

  It’s a possibility, far-fetched, wild, and forbidden, but I decide I like it. Therapy is supposed to start tomorrow. What’s one broken rule before treatment has started? You can’t break something that she hasn’t agreed to yet.

  They would understand.

  We’ve already been labeled as addicts so we’re not here for the free coffee, right? We’re here to get help. I bet they even expect us to have a relapse or two along the way to recovery.

  I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts that I barely register the footsteps thudding down the hallway.

  The knock on my door startles me.

  “Jesus. How long does it take you to get done?” she mutters, probably thinking I can’t hear her through the closed door.

  More knocking, louder this time.

  Good grief.

  Is she trying to break down the door?

  “Why the fuck can’t you just give me a few moments?” I yell, trying to sound angry, but I can’t help the amusement creeping into my voice.

  “Your ten minutes are over.”

  I groan, more out of desperation than out of frustration. “Another minute.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Bossy much?

  The steps retreat.

  This is going to be interesting.

  As soon as I enter the living room, her relaxed expression turns into another frown.

  “What took you so long?” She scans my white robe. “Is this what you call dressed?”

  “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

  “Sorry?”

  “You asked two questions,” I explain patiently. “Which one do you want answered first?”

  The slightest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her luscious lips. “I’m just saying you should put in more effort if you’re sharing your apartment with someone. Wearing proper clothing is one of those things that doesn’t require much effort on anyone’s part.”

  “What’s wrong with my robe?” I glance down, my hand brushing over the white fabric.

  “It’s called having manners.”

  “Are you implying that I don’t have any?” I wink. “Sweetheart, if you knew me, you wouldn’t make such a statement. This is a major trade up. I’m usually naked.”

  “Naked?” She draws out the word. At the same time, her gaze is drawn to my lap. “Yes. I sleep naked, I cook naked, and I fuck naked, if you have to know.”

  “Whoa. Hold your horses.” She holds up a hand to stop me from saying more and lets out another long breath. “Jeez. I knew you were a sex addict, but seriously, there’s no need to go into detail.”

  I cringe at the way she emphasizes the last word. She makes it sound like I’m some kind of perverted fuck who fucks the entire day.

  “I’m not a sex addict.” The words come out more defensive than intended. Fuck, I hate how weak it makes me sound. But more than that, I’m annoyed by the fact that she just managed to make me want to justify my actions.

  I shouldn’t feel the need to explain my life, and yet in her presence the word “denial” springs to mind.

  “That’s not what I’ve been told,” she says.

  “Well, they’re wrong.”

  Our gazes lock in a fierce battle.

  She isn’t afraid of making eye contact, I notice.

  She isn’t shy, either.

  So, why doesn’t she want me to touch her in all the good places, like most women do?

  “What do you want?” I slump down on the couch, still eyeing her.

  “A chat.”

  “About what?”

  “About ground rules.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It won’t take long,” she adds as she catches my alarmed glance. “Now that it’s clear we’re expected to share this apartment, we need to discuss how—”

  “The answer is no.” I jump to my feet again. “I didn’t come here to be told by a woman what I can or can’t do.”

  “But—” She leans fo
rward and her frown deepens. “—you haven’t heard me out yet.”

  “True. But you see, I know what women want from me, and the answer is no. Are you done?” I make a point to take a step toward the door.

  To be honest, I’m enjoying myself. I enjoy winding her up.

  Her face distorts into anger, just as I expected. “That’s so sexist of you. You have no idea what I’ll ask of you.”

  “Believe it or not, I do. You’ll want what all other women want.”

  “Again, so sexist. But you’re wrong.”

  No woman has ever called me a sexist. “What are you saying?”

  “You got it all wrong,” she repeats.

  I take a step toward her, my gaze buried in her blazing eyes. “Let me prove that I’m right. If I make a correct guess, I want you to go out with me.”

  Shock crosses her features. I can see it in the way her eyes widen the moment her mind processes the meaning of my words. At last, she leans back, the shock replaced with surprise. “You want to go out with me?”

  Surprise and complete disbelief.

  What’s so hard to believe that yes, I’d take her out to dinner and then I’d rock both the bed and her world?

  “Yes,” I say slowly.

  She frowns. “Why?”

  “To get to know you better.” Among many things.

  “We barely met half an hour ago.”

  “That’s correct.” I’ve taken out women I knew for less than ten minutes, so half an hour is pretty long for me.

  She frowns again, and her confusion deepens. “I don’t get it. Why would you ask me?”

  “Because you’d like it.” Not just dinner, but everything else I have to offer.

  “You don’t know me well enough to say that I’d like it or you.” She bites down on her lip. “I honestly don’t know why you’d ask me. Besides, there’s nowhere to go, really. If you’re familiar with the renovation plans, you surely know that everything within a mile is closed.”

  My smile turns into a grin. She hasn’t said no yet.

  To be more precise, she’s absolutely not adverse to the idea, and she doesn’t seem to know about the “don’t fuck other patients” rule either.

  “Is that the only thing you’re concerned about? That I won’t find a suitable place to take you out?”