Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(51)
Author: Emma Hart

I reach out and take his hand in mine. A calming feeling washes over me as our fingers entwine and his thumb rubs the back of my hand. The elevator doors close in front of us, and I curl my body into his, just needing to be held by him.

It comes fleetingly—the urge to touch him, to have him touch me, to have that connection. It’s always strong and irresistible, and as he slides his hands down to my ass and kisses my neck, I’m reminded that we’re still very much governed by our addictions.

He still craves my body, and in turn, I still crave his heart.

Our love just has a way of pushing it to the side, smothering it a little. I think more of how I love him than how I’m addicted to him… And maybe that’s the key.

Maybe that’s how we’ll make it work.

Perhaps our love and our addictions are intertwining into an intricate knot that makes total sense.

I reluctantly step from Tyler’s hold and put my key in the door. And pause.

“I hear flapping.”

“Are you serious?” Tyler asks, knocking my hand away and opening the door. “Shit!” he cries, ducking when a bird comes flying clumsily through it. I shriek, thankful that no one has taken Sean’s old apartment yet.

Angus comes flying out, hissing at the bird.

“Oh no you don’t!” I scoop him up and throw him back into my apartment. I tug Tyler inside and slam the door. “Before the thing gets back in.”

“So you’re just going to leave it there flying around the hallway?”

“Pretty much.” I dump my purse, put a can of food in Angus’s bowl, and head into my room to change. Tyler watches me as I go and, the second I turn into my room, laughs at me.

Nice of him to try and hide it.

He’s an awful actor.

Cupboards open and close and pans clang from the kitchen. I pull some sweatpants and a tank top on before I pad my way back out. Tyler already has some water boiling on the stove when I turn on the DVD player and lie back on the sofa. Angus finishes his food and strolls across the apartment to jump onto my legs. He circles a few times and I wince at his claws digging into my thighs.

He lies down, his head on my stomach, and I smile.

“So he brings a bird home and is now keeping the baby warm. Is that like an offering to it or something?”

I meet Tyler’s eyes, my smile still in place. “The bird is for me. He thinks I’m weak, and given that he had no food, he assumed I needed help to feed him,” I explain, scratching my cat’s head. “And cats can sense babies. I was watching Teen Mom and one of the girls had a cat—it was always sleeping on her stomach.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is your knowledge of pregnancy all courtesy of Teen Mom?”

“No. It makes you pee a lot, makes you sick, and makes your boobs really tender. I figured those out for myself.”

He stares at me for a minute before smiling and turning back to the pasta. Yeah, you smile, buddy. You fucking smile now. You won’t be smiling so much when I’m having the baby.

I’m pretty sure those hours of labor are reserved purely for Daddy’s suffering. I get pain relief. He gets broken fingers.

To be honest, it seems like a fair trade to me.

Tyler brings me over a bowl of pasta with a sprinkling of cheese. I take the fork from him and rest the bowl on my stomach. This isn’t appealing to me—not in the slightest. But I’ll eat it because it will make him happy. And as sexy as an angry Tyler Stone is, I don’t have the energy to deal with him tonight.

He’ll have to wank instead.

Wait. When did I start thinking in British?

Bloody hell.

Shit. There it is again.

“Have you packed yet?”

I shake my head, my mouth full of food. “Last time, you did it, so I figured you could just do it again.”

“Last time, you were taking your vibrator. This time, you don’t need it.”

“Why? Did you pack yours?”

He steals a bit of pasta. “No. I reckon I only have a few months before you tell me you’re done with sex and I’m not wasting them with a vibrator. So, until after the baby is born, the only thing inside your pussy will be me.”

“Well, how does a girl argue with that reasoning?” I jab some pasta and shove it in my mouth.

I look down at the bowl. I’ve eaten just over a quarter of it. That will do. I set it on the coffee table, ignoring the way Ty’s brow furrows, and turn to the television.

He rubs my thigh and gets up. He turns in the direction of my bedroom, presumably to pack for me. My phone buzzes after a few minutes and I awkwardly pull it from my pocket in an attempt not to dislodge Angus.

Marchant’s name flashes on screen. I swipe to open the message.

Monday. Starbucks on Pike Place. Noon.

I swallow my groan.

No choice in meeting. He must have spoken to my mom.

Fucking hell. That’s the last thing I need—a conversation with a therapist about my pregnancy and my addiction.

I drop my phone on the floor with a thunk.

“Liv? You okay?” Tyler calls.

“Mmph.”

He comes back through to the front room and leans against the door. “What is it?”

I look up and can’t help but notice that his shirt is off. Yes. The noticing is entirely accidental. Just like the way my eyes flick over his abs and down that V that disappears beneath the waistband of his pants…

“Liv.”

I snap my eyes back to his and catch his smirk. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”

His lips curve a little more. “What’s up?”

I’m guessing that ‘my libido’ isn’t the right answer. “My mom kind of freaked earlier when I called and told her. Not about the baby, but how I’ll cope with it…and you. She’s a little overprotective. Anyway, my dad has this friend he fishes with who’s a therapist. It’s never bothered me before, but he was there when I went over there last week and started asking me questions. I know my mom put him up to it.”

“And?”

“And he said if I wanted to talk to call him. I did—a couple days ago, just after I took the test. But I got his voicemail. I was still in panic mode then, but now that I’ve calmed down, I don’t need to talk. But he just texted and said to meet him Monday for coffee.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“He’s not going to upset me, Ty.”

“I couldn’t give a shit, Liv. We’re in this together. Besides, he can go back to your mum and tell her I’m a great guy, can’t he?”