Addicted to You Read online

  “This happened last night, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now. Let me finish.”

  Will waved for him to continue. He definitely needed to hear how this happened.

  “I was out barhopping with the other guys—”

  “On a Tuesday night?”

  “Are you going to let me finish?”

  “Sorry, sorry. Carry on.”

  “Anyway, we ran into Seth—that’s Kat’s boyfriend—at the fourth bar. I was already kind of drunk, and Andy was giving me shit about wanting a girl who hated my guts so I was a little pissed too. So Seth sees us, and he comes over and starts talking to me like we’re friends or something. And then he asks to talk to me in private, and I think ‘sure, why the hell not,’ so I follow him back toward the bathrooms and—” He covered his face again.

  “And he kissed you.” Since when did college become a soap opera?

  Finn nodded miserably. “And I might have kissed back.”

  Will didn’t even know how to respond to that. Other than to ask, “Why?”

  “Because I’m an idiot!” he shouted. Several people nearby, including the bartender, glanced over. “I thought … I thought maybe that was it, you know? Maybe kissing him was the closest I would ever get to kissing Kat, and since she hated me anyway, why the hell shouldn’t I kiss him back? He started it.”

  “You do realize that’s a shit excuse?”

  “I know. What an asshole. I can’t believe he’d do that her. I can’t believe I’d do that to her.”

  Because there was nothing adequate to say, Will asked, “So what are you going to do?”

  Finn’s lips tightened. He lifted his mug and chugged down the rest of his beer. When he was finished, he gave Will a grim look that just didn’t look right on someone as laid back as he was.

  “I told Kat today at rehearsals.”

  That was twice now Finn had managed to surprise him. He floundered a bit before saying, “I guess … that was good of you?”

  “She said that must be why her boyfriend dumped her this morning. Then she called me something I needed to google to find the definition for and ran out before rehearsals were done.”

  Will could do nothing but order another pitcher of beer. And he thought he had it bad.

  “Sorry, man. First I fuck it up for you with your sex therapy girl, and now I’ve fucked it up with Kat.”

  Will finished his mug and then refilled it. “I’m pretty sure I can, and will, screw myself over with my girl on my own. Look, Finn, I know you really like Kat, but I think it’s time to let it go.”

  “I know,” he muttered. He was doing a bang up job of sulking. “I keep telling myself that.”

  “She wasn’t—”

  “Hey there.”

  This time, the interruption came from a tall brunette. As Finn mumbled something to the effect of “This is why I can’t take you anywhere,” the brunette held up her empty mug. With a nod at their pitcher, she gave Will a slow smile that wasn’t difficult to interpret.

  “Can I join you?”

  Finn leaned forward in his seat until Will thought he would fall off. But instead of falling, he braced his hands against Will’s shoulders and said blearily, “I hate you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She had yet to even look at Will, despite that he had taken the seat right next to her. She stared stonily ahead, apparently determined to pay attention to today’s session. Will had no such aspirations, despite that he had specific instructions from his boss to send detailed notes tomorrow about the effectiveness of the counselor’s repeated methods. Instead, he studied her profile and the way she pressed her lips together when one of the other members said something particularly unusual.

  The counselor was making them talk about their long-term personal goals. Not what they wanted out of life, but what they wanted romantically. After the old woman’s turn, the counselor clarified by saying, “‘Sleeping my way through life’ is not an acceptable answer.”

  The old woman had used a different word, but the message was clear.

  “I’m halfway through my bucket list,” said the woman with a head of dark brown curls and an impressive collection of corsets. She’d worn a different one to every session since Will began coming. Today, she wore a red brocade corset with black lace along the top. It didn’t do much to cover her cleavage.

  The counselor looked hopeful. “Fantastic! Care to share which items on your bucket list you’ve accomplished?”

  “Having sex in a train, sex on a boat, sex in a plane, in a bathroom, a restaurant—”

  The counselor spluttered before putting up a hand to stop her. “That’s your bucket list? A checklist of all the places you want to …” He released a long-suffering breath and rubbed his temple.

  Will was beginning to suspect the addicts enjoyed flustering the poor counselor and testing his unending patience. Probably another reason why the therapy didn’t appear to be working for any of them.

  The woman smiled and batted too-long-probably-fake lashes at Will. “Sex with a Scottish man is still on the list.” She leaned forward until Will felt certain she would spill out of her corset. “Think about it, Braveheart.”

  ‘Nothing to think about,’ he wanted to say but didn’t. Instead he settled his gaze on something far more pleasant—his nameless beauty, who was now scowling so hard at the busty woman that it was a miracle hellfire hadn’t risen up to consume her.

  Will smothered a smile. Being this close to her and having to pretend that he didn’t feel anything was an exercise in self-control. Every time she shifted, even if it was just to fold her hands in her lap, the movement drew his attention. He wanted to reach out and brush her hair over her shoulder. To trail his fingers down her cheekbone, her jaw, her neck. He wanted to see her smile at him with something that wasn’t tainted with distrust.

  Most of all, he wanted to learn her name. Knowing part of her past was great, but now he wanted to know her present. He wanted her to stop being a question so he could start working on how to be her answer.

  And if anyone ever found out he’d thought those words, he would probably be laughed out of America.

  “Please do not proposition each other during meetings,” the counselor said, sounding weary. “Or outside of them either.”

  The busty woman waved her hand in the air like she was chasing away a bad odor. “Of course, all that was before,” she said unconvincingly. “Now all I’d like is to find love. And have sex with that one person. Everywhere.”

  “Okay then,” the counselor said. “Thank you for, um, being honest.” He nodded to the guy in a dirty, beaten down Packers cap who looked like your average creeper.

  The creeper shrugged his shoulders beneath his oversized, brown leather jacket. “I don’t have a plan. My wife is leaving me.”

  The counselor’s expression immediately transformed into pained sympathy. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  The creeper gave a loud snort, startling the counselor. Will gave him a curious look, and even his grumpy beauty frowned at him.

  “Why? I’m not sorry. I’ve been trying to get her to leave for years!” His entire body shook with hysterical laughter.

  The counselor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. No one else said anything as the creeper slapped his thigh and wiped tears from his eyes. It took another several seconds for him to calm himself down, but he was still grinning from ear to ear, looking less like a creepy pervert and more like a creepy psycho. Will took a few mental notes on his body language.

  The creeper was obviously suppressing some serious issues with his soon-to-be ex-wife, and the sex addiction had likely formed as a means to deal with it. Will was fairly certain he wasn’t nearly as happy about his wife leaving him as he pretended to be.

  “Still,” the counselor said, voice soft, “the separation of two people who’d promised each other forever is something to be mourned.”

  No one said anything for a few seconds. Will looked
at his grumpy beauty again and was surprised to find her watching him. She had a contemplative look in her hazel eyes. When he offered her a small smile, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away.

  Someone coughed. Will looked up to find everyone but her staring at him.

  The counselor gave him a disapproving frown before saying, “It’s your turn. Would you like to share with us your long-term personal goals?”

  Not particularly.

  “Well,” he began. In spite of what he’d heard today from everyone, and in spite of his own childhood, what he wanted was fairly standard, if only because it had never been standard for him. “I’d like to marry someday. Maybe buy a house and have children. I think it’d be worth trying.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” the counselor said, sounding relieved that someone finally wanted something he considered normal and healthy. “I know couples who’ve been together fifty years and counting. It can certainly be done successfully.”

  “Just don’t marry for love,” the creeper said.

  Will looked at him. “You don’t believe love lasts?”

  “I know it.”

  Having never been in love, Will couldn’t say definitively either way. But he liked to think it was possible. The counselor gave the creeper a melancholy look. How did he always look so … genuine?

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” the counselor said. “But love finds you even in the most unlikely of times. It may happen again for you.”

  The creeper gave a sharp bark of laughter. “God, I hope not.”

  Ignoring him, the counselor returned his attention to Will. “Will you be settling here in America, or are you planning to return to Scotland?”

  At the question, the girl beside Will finally looked at him—a quick glance that gave nothing away of her thoughts.

  “Just to visit,” he said. “I miss it, but I doubt I’d want to live there again.”

  The counselor nodded. His smile looked wistful. “I’d love to hear about your country some time if you’re willing to share.”

  “Of course.” Oftentimes, people asked him questions with preconceived notions about Scotland, usually formed through television and movies. Like if everyone wore kilts. Or if he knew how to play the bagpipes. Or, if they were trying to be funny, if he’d ever seen a leprechaun. (No, he hadn’t, and by the way, leprechauns were Irish.)

  The counselor glanced at the clock on the wall before directing his smile at Will’s pale-haired mystery girl. “Would you like to finish us off?”

  The busty woman’s lips stretched into a gleeful smile, and the creeper snickered loudly. The old woman snorted, but it was hard to tell if the sound had come from her since he couldn’t see her face beneath the brim of her hat. Even Will couldn’t help the mental images that arose at the counselor’s innocent question. It helped that he could flavor those images with real memories.

  His grumpy beauty didn’t react to the counselor’s words other than with an unimpressed tilt of her brow.

  When the counselor realized what he’d said, he turned a pale shade of pink. “Let me rephrase. Would you like to complete today’s session by sharing with us your goals?”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” she said, which made the counselor blink at her. “But since I’m torturing myself by being here, I suppose I might as well. I want …” She hesitated.

  Will focused on her lips, his breath held in anticipation.

  “I want to be happy,” she said quietly, not looking anywhere but down at her hands folded in her lap. She sounded irritated by her own words. “Whatever that means. I’m not sure what’ll make me happy, whether it’s a marriage with kids or an open relationship with a circus troupe.”

  The counselor looked slightly incensed by the second option. Will smiled.

  “I just mean that, at this point, I’m not sure what I want. I like the idea of falling in love, but I’ve never—” Her gaze flickered up to Will before looking down again. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be with for longer than a night, never mind forever.”

  And then Will shocked himself by thinking, I want to change that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Will spent a couple hours typing up notes and singling out the creeper for deeper analysis. He left out his grumpy beauty’s contribution to the meeting. He still felt like a jerk for writing about their problems and then outlining the numerous reasons why the counselor’s methods weren’t working, but at least it was entirely anonymous. And he’d already decided that he would explain to James what was going on.

  He spent another hour finishing up his research on actual, approved treatment plans for hypersexuality. He found the fact you could become a Certified Sex Addict Therapist most interesting. At the next group session, he’d have to ask the counselor about his credentials.

  Once he finished, he checked his phone to find a text from Finn telling him how their opening night had gone off without any major problems. One of the supporting actors forgot his lines, but they were able to push through it. Naturally, Kat had ignored everyone when they weren’t on stage performing, and she left the moment it was finished. Will could just imagine Finn’s dejected expression.

  He felt for his friend, but kissing Kat’s boyfriend—even if he had kissed Finn first—was crossing a line. If Finn expected Kat to ever speak to him again, well … that might be asking for too much.

  He texted Finn back with an apology for not being able to make it and a promise to make the next performance. Then he cleaned up and joined Bonny on the bed where she was curled into a furry ball on the blanket.

  Sleep was slow to come, his thoughts too busy tripping over each other to settle down and let him rest. When he closed his eyes, he saw her face as she was telling the group what she wanted—to be happy—and he could hear the resignation in her voice, as if she already believed that it wouldn’t happen.

  Fortunately, not only was happiness subjective, but its cause could change. Will was an optimist at heart, and he knew he could make her happy if she let him.

  Now, he just needed to know her name. Since she’d hinted about working for the University web developers—or at least being connected with them—it would simply be a matter of locating where they were on campus and then either asking the staff or waiting around for her to show up.

  But a slightly irrational part of him felt like this would be cheating. He didn’t want to weasel his way into learning the information. He wanted her to tell him her name because she wanted to.

  It occurred to him then that he’d never told her his name either. Maybe that was why she’d held back that day at the theater. He’d have to rectify that the next time he saw her, hopefully before the next meeting.

  By the time his alarm clock went off, Will had gotten a grand total of four hours of continuous sleep. Bonny was curled into his side, and her head popped up to give him a resentful look for getting out of bed and depriving her of his body heat.

  He set about his usual morning routine—cleaning up and feeding Bonny before having eggs and toast for breakfast. He made it to work with five minutes to spare.

  “Feeling better?” James asked from behind the mountain range of books stacked on his desk.

  Will winced. He’d lied about being sick to avoid coming into the office and having to deal with his substandard work on the case study.

  “I’m fine,” he said. He settled into one of the chairs in front of James’s desk. Then he stood again because sitting resulted in not being able to see his boss over all the books. “James, I need to talk to you.”

  James leaned back in his leather chair, which creaked underneath his weight. Opening a textbook in his lap, he said, “Good. I need to talk to you, too. I’m guessing it’s about the same thing, namely the fact my ten-year-old could have taken better notes than what you turned in last week.”

  Will tried not to look guilty, but probably failed. “I don’t think I can complete the case study.”

  “You
‘don’t think’?”

  “I’ve been avoiding the work because I have a—” He considered his words. “—conflict of interest.”

  James’s brows rose. “Are you a real sex addict?”

  “Uh. No,” he said with a crooked smile. “There’s a girl who attends the meetings, and … I like her. I would prefer not to have to continue lying to her.”

  The book in James’s lap snapped shut, and he gave Will a small, indecipherable smile. Will couldn’t help straightening his shoulders a bit.

  “So what you’re saying,” his boss said, “is you’re giving up on the case study—the case study I’ve been paying you to work on for the past several weeks—because you have a crush on one of the addicts.”

  When he put it that way, it did sound rather immature. But it was true nonetheless. “Aye.”

  James nodded. “Congratulations.”

  Caught off guard, Will’s brows narrowed in confusion. “What?”

  “Congratulations,” he repeated. “I’m assuming you’ve asked this girl out.”

  Will looked away, and James threw up his hands.

  “You’re risking your job for her, and you haven’t even asked her out yet?”

  “I’m working on it,” he said, disliking how defensive he sounded. It wasn’t his boss’s business whether he’d asked her out or not.

  “Right. Well. You do realize I’ll have to punish you,” James said, sounding perfectly serious.

  Will angled him a wary look. “What do you mean?”

  James stood, his mouth stretching into a smile that was alarmingly self-satisfied. “I have a task for you. It’s a very important task. You may refuse, but if you do, you can consider yourself removed from this position.”

  That was a hefty thing to say. Will nodded to indicate he understood.

  “It involves paddles, a gag, and a Black Room of Bondage.”

  Will blinked. Then he took a step back toward the exit. “Excuse me?”