Addiction

Chapter 23-1

Chapter 23

Knock, knock.

Who's there? she replied, with a stupid fool grin on her face.

Iva

Iva who?

Iva sore hand from knocking the past hour. Where U been?

She laughed, despite the irritated beep from the driver behind her. Flinging her phone to the passenger seat, she drove through the green light just in time for the car behind to get stopped on the red. Another angry beep followed her as she winced. “Them's the breaks.”

She pulled into a gas station, debating on whether or not to buy a chocolate bar. Her diet was boring her, and she hadn't had chocolate in weeks. First, she'd reply to Logan's text.

I been workin. Not everyone has such a handy job as u, brother mine.

That's funny, he replied. Coulda sworn you told people what color to paint walls. Real stressful, that.

It is. Have u ever tried to explain the difference between strawberry and cerise to a client?

Thankfully, no. What are ur plans for the night?

Little of this. Little of that.

Is it always little?

Smartass. I'm going to surprise Taylor with an early night.

Kinky.

Not that type of early night. Jeez. I'm going home early.

Oh, boring.

Can't all be as sexually adventurous as u r.

True. It's hard to be this good.

She found herself wondering – and not for the first time – just exactly how good he was. She'd been hearing about his sexcapades for so long that she often thought he made them up just to amuse her or shock her. She wondered as well what he'd think of her vanilla life, and all the boring ins and outs – literally – of her and Taylor's s*x life.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy s*x with Taylor, but she could definitely do with a bit of variety in the bedroom. A straight missionary man, Taylor never had s*x anywhere other than the bedroom, and never in the middle of the day, or the middle of the night. Mornings were iffy. Actually, if it didn't happen just before sleep, it usually didn't happen. How she had gravitated to such a straight-laced lover, when her own fantasies ran a little wilder, a little hotter, she'd yet to figure out. Maybe she could sit him down and have a chat with him about it. Relationships broke down when there was no communication after all.

Ur gone all quiet on me. Sup?

Nothing. Just thinking.

Don't burst a blood vessel.

If I do, will u send me flowers?

Nah, u hate flowers.

These were things Taylor never remembered. Every Valentine's Day, every anniversary, and every time they'd had a fight, he'd buy her some damn flowers. She didn't even own a vase – something she imagined he already knew since he lived there.

That's why I luv u bro, u get me.

:) Enjoy ur early night

Will do x

xx

Deciding against the chocolate after all, she pulled back into traffic. The dashboard clock said five oh eight p.m. She'd be home in time to present a united front to his client, at the very least. The thought making her smile, she drove on, tapping her fingers and singing along to Coldplay on the stereo. The lights were blazing when Sophie pulled up, taking note of a strange car in her driveway, which she assumed belonged to the client Taylor was wooing.

Rifling through her bag, she pulled out her set of house keys and let herself inside quietly, so as not to disturb his meeting too much. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. Two plates, scraped and stacked one on top of the other, were sitting beside the sink, and two glasses with the remnants of last night's Merlot pooling in the bottoms stood by them. The house was strangely quiet, and Sophie wondered where Taylor had brought his client. They certainly weren't here.

Checking the dining room and the study, just to be sure, she shrugged, toeing off her shoes, dangling them from two fingers as she skipped up the stairs. Steam curled around the bedroom door, as Sophie wandered inside. If Taylor had left the shower running, she'd murder him.

She marched to the door and grasped the handle, ready to enter, when she heard a soft moan coming from inside. It was not a male sound, that moan. It was very decidedly female. A tight feeling in her chest, she turned the handle in slow motion, steam seeping out to smack her in the face. It took a moment for the scene to clear, and when it had, she wished it hadn't.

Taylor, his broad back turned to the door, pressed a woman to the corner of the shower where the two walls met. A thigh either side of his waist, she panted and moaned as he quite eagerly f****d the s**t out of her. Her dark hair, piled up on top of her head, bobbed with each thrust and retreat.

“Oh, baby. Yeah, that's right, take my cock.”

And she'd thought he was vanilla? Her anger stirring, she opened the door fully, striding inside. The brunette's eyes went wide as she tracked Sophie's progress toward the shower stall. She bucked and struggled, but Taylor, intent on his mission, thought it was all part of her arousal and f****d her twice as hard for her efforts. As he gave one last thrust, and groaned through his orgasm, Sophie slid the door open and turned off the shower. “I would let you finish up, but I don't think any amount of soap is going to get you clean, Taylor.”

“Sophie!” he shouted in surprise, dropping the brunette's thighs as though scalded. “I um... I...it's—”

“Not what it looks like?” she suggested. “Save it. I want you out of here. Both of you,” she speared the brunette with a look. “Now.”

“Soph,” Taylor pleaded. “I swear this wasn't meant to happen. Please just let me explain.”

“You can explain to the cops if you don't get the hell out of here, right now. I mean it Taylor. Leave.”

She stormed out of the bathroom, and enclosed herself in the study while Taylor and his mistress gathered their s**t and got the hell out of her house. The first tear didn't fall until she heard him place his key on the hall console and the door close with a soft thud. Then all hell broke loose inside her. She plonked her head down, tears burning and nose stinging. The bastard. How could he do that? In her shower. In her home. In her parents' home. That f*****g bastard.

She had no idea who the mystery woman was, but she was sure she'd hear about it one way or the other – this town was nothing if not rumor-efficient.

Storming into the kitchen, she lifted her phone from her bag and stared at the screen. As if by telepathy alone, it lit up. Logan's name flashed on the screen. Did he already know? Someone could have seen the spectacle, she knew and phoned a friend, who phoned a friend, and so on, until it got back to Logan in Somersville. With no small amount of trepidation, she hit the message icon on the screen.

How's ur early night going? Am I interrupting?

Yes, she replied, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

Sorrynotsorry :)

She laughed despite herself, knowing she had to tell him. She hit the call button.

“Hey,” he answered. “I thought I was interrupting?”

“I need an interruption. Or maybe an intervention. An interjection? Hell if I know!”

“What's wrong?” When no reply was forthcoming he pressed further. “Speak to me, Soph. What the f**k's happened? You're scaring me.”

With heaving breaths and hiccups, she told him of the earlier events, finishing with, “I can't stay here. Not right now.”

“Come to me,” he demanded more than suggested. “It'll be good for you, and besides, I haven't seen you in forever.”

“You miss me, huh?” she asked in a voice gone hoarse from crying.

“Every day,” he told her. She could sense the smile in his voice, and it brought a twitch to her own lips. Damn the man, he always could make her smile against her will.

“Okay.”

“Are you serious? You'll come here?” He sounded surprised, but happy, and Sophie had to admit the idea of both getting away from here and seeing her stepbrother appealed enormously.

“Yeah.”

“I'll book you a train ticket.” She could hear him rifling through some papers. “Just give me one minute and I'll book you a ticket right now.” As if she were about to change her mind.

“I'll drive.” It would give her a chance to clear her head – which she desperately needed to do – and decide what to do about her share of Taylor's business. There was no way she wanted anything to do with him now, and that included his shitty business.

“That'll take you hours,” he protested. “It's already six p.m.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then I won't come.” She sniffed.

“Seriously? You're going to blackmail me?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Just promise me you'll drive safely, and answer me when I text.”

“I promise.” She gathered up her bag from the island and plodded up the stairs to pack a small bag of clothes and other items she might need. This would be good for her, he was right. She hadn't been out of this damn town in years, had never visited Logan at his beach house, and was feeling a tiny kernel of excitement as she flung clothes and shoes, cosmetics and books into her bag. Within ten minutes, she had engaged the alarm, dropped Taylor's key in the trash and locked up the house. She would forget everything for a little while. Taking a final minute to send her boss a text about some family emergency, she slid into her car and drove away, not sparing the house one more look in her rear view than was necessary.

*