Addicted to Love (Bayou Devils MC Book 2)

by A. M. Myers

  Addicted to Love

  Bayou Devils MC

  Book Two

  A.M. Myers

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design by Jay Aheer

  Proofreading by Julie Deaton

  Photography by CJC Photography

  Cover Model: Gus Smyrnios

  Copyright © 2018 by A.M. Myers

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Chapter One

  Carly

  “Oh, fuck yes,” Sam moans. His loose grip on my hips kills my building orgasm and I reach up, pinching my nipple in an effort to reclaim it but it’s pointless. “Just like that. Ride it, baby.”

  I cringe at the pet name he knows better than to use. It’s a word reserved for boyfriends or husbands—something way more committed than we are or ever will be. I don’t do serious and I never will. Something I made clear to him before we ever hooked up.

  As I close my eyes, I try to imagine the sexy dark-haired man I saw on the new Calvin Klein ad last week underneath me instead of Sam as he lets out another moan that grates on my nerves. It's like nails on a chalkboard. Mystery man wouldn’t ruin a decent orgasm with a lackluster grip on my hips as the word “baby” spills out of his mouth because he would realize nothing turns me off faster than a lack of passion from my partner.

  How the hell have Sam and I even made it this long?

  With a sigh, I ride him faster, resigned to the fact I won’t be getting off soon. I was desperate for release and now all I can do is pray he finishes quickly so I can get on with my damn day.

  Sam groans louder and I try to focus on the sensation of him moving inside me but all I can hear in my head is that name rolling off his lips and it makes me want to run out of the room screaming. He groans again, smacking my ass with one hand as he presses his thumb to my clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub for a minute before he tenses beneath me, spilling into the thin barrier of the condom. Dots dance in my vision as I squeeze my eyes shut tight and I let out a fake moan. I contract my muscles around him before slipping his cock out of me and falling off to the side.

  Jesus, this is getting old.

  There’s nothing worse than having to fake an orgasm.

  Throwing my arm over my eyes, I release a breath and will my body to relax as Sam continues panting beside me. How does the man manage to make breathing annoying? It’s baffling but somehow he does.

  Last night, when I got home from work and needed to get laid, I should have just pulled my vibrator out of the nightstand instead of calling him. Or gone out to a club and found a random guy to hook up with in the bathroom. Either would be better than less than mediocre sex with a guy I should have dumped weeks ago. With a sigh, I drag my arm off my eyes and glance at the open bathroom door. Before I can convince myself to roll out of bed, Sam is on top of me with a huge grin on his face.

  “That was amazing.”

  I force a smile to my face and I can’t even pretend it’s not strained. “Thanks.”

  He trails his finger down my cheek and it’s way too intimate. Every cell in my body is desperate to put space between us but I remain still. “I’m serious, Carly. You’re so amazing and I’ve never met another woman like you. I’m falling in love with you.”

  Son of a bitch.

  I freeze, my body rigid as I stare up at him. Damn him for catching me off guard with this. Most of the time, I’m able to tell when the guy I’m seeing is developing feelings, and I shut it down before it gets too far but I missed the signs with Sam. He surprised the hell out of me with this and it has to end. Not that I had any intention of continuing after today anyway.

  I open my mouth to respond to him, but he silences me with a kiss before smiling and stroking my cheek.

  “Don’t say anything, okay? I understand I sprang this on you but keeping it inside was killing me. I’ll wait for you however long it takes so no pressure.”

  I nod, glancing over at the bathroom as my skin crawls. “I need to get ready for work.”

  “Want me to join you in there?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows like that’s supposed to entice me but there’s no way in hell that will happen. You know what’s worse than one ruined orgasm? Two of them.

  “I can't. I’m already running late.”

  He looks a little disappointed, but he nods, rolling off me. “How about I try to rustle up breakfast for us then?”

  I force another smile to my face and nod as I climb out of bed and grab my towel off the hook in the closet. As I retreat into the bathroom, I can sense his eyes on me and I try not to appear too rushed, like I’m trying to escape him even if that is what I’m doing. The bathroom door clicks behind me and I flip the lock before lean back against it and blowing out a breath. As soon as I hear Sam leave the bedroom, I walk over to the shower and turn on the water, running my hand through it to test the temperature before stepping in and letting the hot water run down my back with one thought running through my mind.

  How did this happen?

  Sam and I met in a bar four months ago and he seemed like the perfect guy for me since he wasn’t looking for anything serious either. His long-term girlfriend had just dumped him and nursing a broken heart, he wanted to lose himself in someone else to forget his pain—something I understood all too well. Before things progressed, I explained my rules to him and made it clear that our arrangement would be nothing more than casual so I’m struggling to understand how he could think there is any kind of future here.

  It’s sloppy. The kind of mistake I made in the beginning when I was just learning how to navigate these “relationships”. After too many break-ups that ended up being messy and dramatic when they should have been anything but, I figured out how to spot the signs that someone was becoming invested and end things before it moved too far. It saved us all a whole mess of hurt in the long run.

  I’m ready to get this over with and move on with my day. It will suck but it has to happen and it will hurt him less if I do it now. I’m not heartless so I do feel bad, but he holds some blame, too. In the months we’ve been hooking up, I never gave him the impression that this could be more. This is all I’m capable of giving a guy and I thought he understood that. Memories engulf me and I close my eyes, trying to forget all the reasons I’m like this. It doesn’t help that the anniversary of the worst day of my life is speeding toward me like a stray bullet. It’s likely part of the reason I got so careless this time.

  Before my thoughts go down a road I have no desire to visit today, I focus back on washing my body, scrubbing meticulously to distract my mind but it’s a constant struggle to avoid those dark thoughts. I’ve been so distracted by that damn date, circled in red on my calendar next week, that I’ve barely even been able to focus on anything else, even my new job, so of course I missed things with Sam. Shaking my head, I rinse out my loofa and hang it back on its hook before slipping under the hot water and watching the little soap bubbles run down my belly. Once I’m clean, I turn off the water and step out of the shower as I grab my towel and wrap it around my chest. Silence greets me and I tiptoe to the bathroom door. I pull it open a fraction and scan the bedroom for Sam wi
th my breath stuck in my lungs. After a moment, I hear him singing along to the radio in the kitchen, so I slip out of the bathroom and into my spacious walk-in closet.

  This is the one space in the whole apartment I was allowed to decorate and its mix of rustic and contemporary décor sticks out like a sore thumb but it never fails to bring a smile to my face. It is as large as most apartment bedrooms and somewhat of a sanctuary for me in a condo that doesn’t seem like home most of the time. I walk past my wall of shoes and thumb through the rack of clothes before settling on a deep blue shift dress. Once I’m dressed, I re-wrap my hair in the towel and grab my shoes as I steel myself to go break up with Sam.

  Time to get this over with.

  “So, you didn’t have much to work with,” Sam says as I walk into the kitchen, his back facing me as he stands over the stove. He transfers two sunny-side-up eggs from the pan to a plate before turning to face me. “But I found eggs.”

  Hot cup of coffee in his hand, he saunters over and hands it to me as he leans against the island and cuts one egg in half with a fork before scooping it up and holding it in front of my mouth.

  What the hell is he doing?

  Never, in the months we’ve been hooking up, have we ever been so… domesticated with each other and I’m once again baffled by the change in him that seems to have occurred overnight as I open my mouth and accept the food. He watches me chew with an expectant expression on his face.

  “Good?” he asks and I nod, lifting the steaming cup of coffee to my lips. I take a sip before realizing that he didn’t add any creamer to it and I try not to grimace as I grip it in both hands. “Oh, you were out of creamer but there's this great little coffee shop nearby that you’ll love if you want to stop and grab something there.”

  Why does he think he’ll be versed in what I love? Sam and I don’t spend time together unless it’s to fuck and he can’t even do that right, so he has no clue what I’d want or like. I shake my head, setting the coffee down as I gather up my laptop and slip it in its bag.

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he asks, an edge to his voice that wasn’t there a second ago.

  “Does it matter?”

  He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, it sure as hell does.”

  Sighing, I face him and lean my hip against the counter as I cross my arms over my chest. “Sam, after what happened this morning, I think it’s best if we end this.”

  “I fucking knew you would do this,” he hisses, slamming the plate of eggs down on the counter and I’m surprised that it doesn’t shatter. Damn, that thing is sturdy. I’m kind of impressed, actually. I’ll have to figure out who sells them and pick up more.

  Sam grabs the coffee off of the counter and takes a sip, drawing my attention back to him. “Why can’t you let me in, baby? What are you so scared of?”

  There’s that word again. I square my shoulders and lift my chin in defiance as I stare him down. “I’m not scared and I’m sure as hell not your damn baby.”

  “But you could be if you’d just give this thing a shot. You don’t need to be scared.”

  “Did you forget about the rules? This was never going to be more than sex and I already told you, I’m not scared.”

  He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re so full of shit, Carly. You’re terrified of something. I just can’t figure out what it is. I never forgot your damn rules but I’m saying this could be so much more. We’re great together and all I’m asking is for you to give us a chance.”

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head and he looks away for a moment before stepping toward me and cradling my cheek as he gives me an imploring look. He’s dead wrong if he thinks it will work on me.

  “Please, Car. Just grab dinner with me tonight and we can talk. We can take this as slow as you want. Just give me a shot.”

  His hopeful expression fills me with guilt but there’s no way in hell this thing can go on, no matter what he says. It’s annoying because now I will have to find someone new. Though, even the thought of getting back out there has me considering celibacy for the first time since college.

  I take a step back and his hand falls between us. “You’re not hearing me. This is over. I’m sorry if that hurts you but I made myself perfectly clear when we met. This was only ever sex for me and now it’s done.”

  He lets out a sardonic laugh and nods, thrusting his full cup of coffee at my chest. I catch it but half of the contents spill down the front of my dress as my gaze snaps up to his in shock.

  “Have a nice fucking life, Carly.”

  Sam takes off, knocking me in the shoulder as he lumbers past me, and stalks toward the door. The door to the apartment slams shut as he leaves and I jump as I turn to look at it before glancing down at my ruined dress. Would it be possible to crawl back into bed and pretend this day never happened?

  * * * *

  This entire day is going to shit.

  After changing into a new outfit - a sleek black dress and my favorite red leather jacket to make me feel like a badass after my terrible morning - I barely made it to work when Ali, my best friend, got a call from her boyfriend that someone had broken into her house. It’s not even noon yet and I’m counting the minutes until I can go home, lock the front door, crawl under the covers, and lose myself in a bottle of wine.

  I glance across the car at Alison, who doesn’t even notice my gaze as she stares at the road in front of us. She hasn’t said a word since she hung up the phone with her boyfriend, Storm. Not that I blame her. I’m sure her mind is a million miles away right now. I mean, what do you even say to someone after such an invasion of privacy? As I focus back on the road, I rack my brain for anything that could improve her mood or even take her mind off the situation but come up empty. It kills me.

  Alison and I met six years ago when we both worked at The Baton Rouge Times. In hindsight, it wasn’t a great job, but we were both fresh out of college and excited to be starting our journey in journalism. We bonded right away over our love of the written word and coffee. When she introduced me to her roommate, Isabelle Hutton, we became a tight knit little group. I swear, sometimes it's like I’ve known them my entire life and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for either of them.

  Pulling up to the curb, I shift the car into park as I peer up at the house and suck in a breath. To anyone else, the house looks the same as it did two nights ago when I brought dinner over for Ali and I but somehow, it's different. A chill blankets my skin and it’s almost if a shadow has been cast over the property, an ominous sensation greeting you like one of those old haunted houses kids dare each other to go near. If it’s affecting me this much, I can’t even imagine what Ali is going through—her sanctuary destroyed. I glance over at her and she meets my eyes.

  “Ready to do this, sweetie?” I ask and her gaze flicks up to the house behind me before she nods. We climb out of the car and she meets me on the sidewalk and slips her hand in mine. As we walk up the front walk, she’s almost robotic in her movements, staring up at her home as we inch toward it. Every step closer to the front door, the sense that someone is watching us intensifies, and I resist the urge to kick the bushes just in case the creep who broke in is still lurking around.

  “You think it’s got something to do with the pictures?” a gruff voice asks from inside the house as I guide Ali up the steps and I flick a questioning glance in her direction, but she doesn’t even notice me. Her face is blank and her gaze is fixed in front of her. We step through the open front door and stop short.

  Six large men in leather vests turn to us and I let out a soft gasp. My eyes roam over them, my pulse spiking and a tingle creeping up my spine as I try to figure out who the hell these guys are. A man steps through the crowd, his dark hair in disarray and his piercing gray eyes trained on Ali as he closes the gap between them and slides a hand into her hair, shoving me out of the way. They collide and he presses his forehead to hers as she melts into his touch. The stress drains out of h
er body as her eyes drift closed and he takes a deep breath like he can breathe again now with her here. They stand in their own little world, oblivious to the rest of us.

  It’s a stunning picture.

  When my friend told me about her feelings for her hot neighbor who was the VP of a motorcycle club, I thought she was a little crazy but seeing them together, you can’t deny what they have. The connection they share is so potent that you can sense it filling the room and my chest aches. In the quiet moments of the night, when I’m alone, I remember a young girl who dreamed of a connection like that before the world taught her how naïve she was. And every once in a while, I can admit to myself that a small piece of me still clings to the hope that there is someone out there for me, a man who will gaze at me like I am his sun and moon. Like he can see galaxies dancing in my eyes and he’s content to just get lost in them forever. But when the sun peeks through the trees the next morning, that sliver of the young girl I used to be gets buried underneath the lessons painfully learned in my youth.

  “Hey, let’s give them a minute,” someone says, nudging my arm and I nod, without pulling my gaze away from Ali. I hate to leave her, but she seems to have relaxed, and she’s clinging to Storm like he’s her life raft. She seems okay, for now, so I follow the other guys outside as they fan out across the lawn, all of them talking to each other.

  “What’s your name, Darlin’?” the same voice asks, and I pull my gaze away from the door, sucking in a breath when my eyes meet his.

  Holy shit.

  Those two words are the only intelligible thing bouncing around in my head as his jade green eyes bore into me, intense and a little curious, like he’s trying to uncover my most intimate secrets. Just one look from him and it's as if I’m laid bare at his feet, all my baggage printed across my skin for him to read. A smile teases his lips as he takes his time looking me over, almost like there is an inside joke I’m missing but I'm sure he didn’t say anything else since I can’t seem to take my eyes off of his full lips or wonder how they would feel pressed against my neck.