The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (6 page)

My alarm annoyingly wakes me at five a.m. on Monday, as usual. I like to get a run in every morning before I open up the shop, mainly because of the large amount of sugar consumption that happens regularly between Joey and me during work hours. Dressing in my running gear, I grab my phone and keys off my nightstand and go downstairs into the large kitchen. I live in a small loft above the bakery and have since I opened the place three years ago. It’s practical for me living at my job since some days I’m required to get up in the middle of the night to work on something for a client. My loft consists of one large room, which I separated into two with a decorative screen, giving my bedroom area some privacy from the living room and kitchen. It is small, quaint, and cheap. Renting the room above the bakery only costs me eight hundred and fifty dollars a month, which is relatively inexpensive for the downtown Chicago area. Below the loft, the stairs dump out into the large kitchen/work space, which I spend the majority of my time in, with a doorway that leads out to the main bakery. I make my way through the doorway and smile at Joey’s face, which is pressing against the glass, peering inside. He never misses a run. I step outside and lock up behind me, seeing his angry expression glaring at me as I spin to greet him.

“Well, thank God you aren’t dead. What the fuck? I called you a million times yesterday.” He stretches his back by twisting from left to right. “I believe I told you I wanted details.”

I bend down and reach for my toes and he does the same. “I’m sorry. I needed to mentally check out yesterday. The wedding was a bit much.”
Understatement of the century.
Stretching my hamstrings, I stand up and press my hand against the window of the bakery to steady myself.

“And are you going to just stand there and
not
tell me what the fuck that means?”

“I’m sure you already know everything, you gossip queen. Hasn’t Juls spilled the big surprise?”

We start jogging down the sidewalk together, our feet hitting the pavement at the same time. It’s already hot as hell outside and that just ups my annoyance level.

“What big surprise? Juls spent the rest of the reception sucking Ian’s face and God knows what else, and I ate my weight in cake after I saw Billy flirting with a waiter.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Joey. That really sucks.”

“Whatever. He ended up driving me home, and I did him in the back of his Denali as punishment.”

I push his arm, but he doesn’t budge. The man is a mountain of muscle. “Jesus. Well, I guess you showed him.”

“Oh, I did. Now, what surprise?”

We make our usual trek down Fayette Street on the deserted sidewalk, Joey initiating the pace as he always does.

“Reese is married.”
God, it still sucked today saying it out loud. And why did my heart physically ache at the sound of it. I couldn’t be that
affected by a wedding hook up, no matter how good the sex was.
I stop running and look back at Joey who is frozen on the pavement, his blond curls already sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“He’s what?” He starts up again, momentarily stunned, and I move with him.

“You heard me. Fucking married. Of course, he didn’t mention this before, during, or after our hot as hell sex in the men’s bathroom. He just simply asked me ‘What the fuck was that?’
after he came, told me he was sorry, and went on about his business.” I push my legs faster as we run up a small hill, feeling the burn in my thighs.

“What a dick. Are you sure though? I mean, I didn’t see a ring and you know I hunt that out first thing.”

“Yeah, so do I. Apparently, Ian told Juls that he was married. He probably didn’t wear his ring so he could fuck me blind. Oh, and I almost forgot, to top the night off, Justin followed me outside and alluded to me fucking
him
since married men are my thing now.”
Asshole.

Joey snaps his head toward me, eyes wide. “Are you fucking serious right now? Where the fuck was I when all this was happening? Oh, that’s right. I was eating my goddamned feelings.” He picks up his pace as I struggle behind him.

“Slow down! Your legs are miles longer than mine.”

“Crap, sorry.” He returns to my side. “I’m sorry about Reese, cupcake. I really am. But—”

“Don’t fucking say it, Joey.” I know exactly what his next words would be.

“I’m just saying—”

“Shut it, Holt,” I grit out as he spins around to face me, effortlessly running backward.

“You could be the sexy mistress. If the sex was
that
good, why give it up?”

Now
I
start sprinting and hear a squeal from him as he catches up within seconds. “Are you mental? I am not going to be his fuck buddy on the side. I don’t care how amazing the sex was or how hard he made me come. Fuck that shit.” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, the sweat already starting to build on my skin.

“Ooohhh, how hard
did
he make you come? Was he huge? Please tell me it didn’t have some weird hook to it like Billy’s did.” He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not quite sure how I feel about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ. It is way too early to talk about dick sizes and which way they curve.” I pause. “But for the record, he’s massive and as straight as you pretended to be in high school.”

“I fucking knew it. You lucky bitch.”

We run in silence the rest of the way around the neighborhood, the only noises coming from us being our breathing and the sound of our shoes striking the pavement. I run fast and hard, desperately trying to push the memory of Reese and our hook up out of my mind and hoping to run away from it. But that isn’t going to happen, at least not today, and it isn’t happening for my running partner either. I can almost hear Joey’s mind working as we run, most likely coming up with all the possible secret rendezvous scenarios between Reese and myself. Needless to say, the five-mile trek today is both mentally and physically exhausting.

I shower and dress for the day after saying goodbye to Joey, so he can do the same. He only lives a few blocks from the bakery and will be back before we open at seven a.m. He is my only employee at the moment, seeing as I haven’t gotten around to hiring anybody to replace Tiffany after I fired her. I’m not entirely sure I need anybody else to work for me; Joey and I seem to manage just fine on our own. I grew up with him, going to high school together, and then to college where we both studied business. He was more than supportive when I dreamed of opening my own bakery and insisted on becoming my assistant so we could stay close. Although, deep down, I think he just wanted to sample all my new creations. Thank God for our daily runs, otherwise, I’m certain we would both be as big as a house.

I tie my favorite apron on and begin pulling the pastries, muffins, cupcakes, and cookies from the back racks and bringing them up front to the display cases. The house specialty is my banana nut muffins, which I spent five years perfecting the recipe on. They’re insanely delicious and it’s a struggle not to eat every one myself straight out of the oven. I sell out of them every day by noon and nothing makes me prouder. At a few minutes before opening, Joey comes hustling through the door carrying two coffees and his award-winning smile.

“I’m dick talked out, so don’t even,” I say as I open the register and count the money.

“Cupcake, there’s no such thing, trust me. I had them put in an extra shot of espresso for you this morning, figured you might need it,” he says, walking around the counter. “Although, perhaps you’d prefer hard liquor with your coffee today?” He hands me my piping hot cup and I smile weakly. He is handsomely dressed in dark jeans and a bright blue polo shirt that brings out the color in his eyes.

“Thanks and, yes, liquor would be my preferred beverage this morning, but I don’t think the sight of me stumbling around the shop wasted off my ass would be good for business.” I take a sip and let the hot liquid run down my throat, instantly perking me up as the front door swings open. “Good morning. And how are my favorite regulars today?”

Mr. and Mrs. Crisp live around the corner and come into the shop every morning for two of my banana muffins. They are beyond adorable and always start my day off with a smile when I see them. “Well, besides the fact that this one kept me up all night, snoring, we are just fine, Dylan.” Mrs. Crisp motions toward her husband who smiles sweetly at her.

“You love it, dear. I’m sure you told me once how my snoring helps you sleep.” Mr. Crisp lovingly rubs his wife’s back as she bats him away playfully.

“Oh, that’s ridiculous, Harry,” she huffs. I pull out their muffins as I smile and place them in a bag, grabbing the money that was placed on the counter. “And how was the wedding, dear? You stick it to that nasty, no good ex of yours?”

I roll my eyes after handing Mr. Crisp his change. “Not the way I would have liked to.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter. “Whatever, I’m just glad it’s over with. The cake looked amazing and was apparently delicious.” I motion toward my assistant who is nibbling on a muffin. “This one ate an entire tier by himself.”

He snorts loudly at my declaration. “It was not an entire tier. Well, actually, yeah it probably was.” The four of us all laugh together as he devours his breakfast. The man can put away the sweets.

The front door swings open, getting our attention, and an older gentleman carrying a white box walks in and up to the counter. Mr. and Mrs. Crisp wave their goodbyes and slip out.

“Can I help you?” I ask, staring at the box questionably. It doesn’t have any labels on it, giving no indication as to where it’s from.

He places it in front of me with a smile. “Good morning. Delivery for a Ms. Dylan.” My eyes widen as Joey steps next to me.

“What the hell did you order?” he asks as I sign the slip for the man.

“I didn’t order anything, I don’t think. Who sent this?” The man just shrugs and takes his clipboard, pushing the box toward me on the counter and walking quickly out of the bakery. We both stare at the box, glancing up and meeting each other’s eyes.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asks, arching his brows at me.

I study it suspiciously before replying. “I don’t know; don’t bombs come in unmarked packages?”

“Who the hell would try to bomb you?”

“Well, for starters, a certain wife of a certain someone who banged my back out Saturday night,” I huff. He makes a face at me and pulls the white ribbon that is tied on the top, lifting the sides of the box to reveal a folded brown card on top of white tissue paper. I open the card and quickly scan the handwriting.

Dylan,

I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I would love to see you again.

X Reese

My mouth drops open. “You have
got
to be kidding me.” I hand the card to Joey and hear him gasp after a fleeting moment.

“Holy shit. He would love to see you again? Dylan!”

Snatching the card back, I pull apart the tissue paper and cock my head to the side as I stare at the contents of the box. “What the hell?”

Joey leans in and gawks. “
Oh, my God
. This has to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I pull out a pound of flour and drop it on the counter as he squeals next to me. “Why would he send me flour?” I am beyond confused right now while my assistant is bouncing around like a bunny. You would think by the way he’s reacting that I’m currently staring at an engagement ring instead of baking supplies.

“Don’t you get it? Instead of
flowers
he sent you
flour
since you’re a baker. Shit, that’s romantic.”

I shove him and he doesn’t budge. “Romantic? A married man just wrote me saying he wants to keep fucking me on the side. He’s married, Joey. This is not romantic. It’s sleazy and disgusting.” Picking up my coffee and stepping away from the counter, I stare at the flour and take generous sips.
This is insane and my assistant is an idiot.

“You’re missing some key adjectives there. A
hot
married man wants to keep
rightly
fucking you on the side. You must have blown his mind, girl. Plus, he sends you presents? I want him as my secret boyfriend.”

I shake my head. “What a pompous asshole. He must think I’m some two-bit whore to willingly submit to this joke of a request. Fucking douche-bag.” I pick the card up and toss it in the trash as Joey lunges for it. “Leave it.”

“No. At least keep it for a day. You might change your mind.”

“You are high off your ass if you think I would actually consider this.”

“I fucking wish I was high right now. That would be an excuse for my insane case of the munchies.” He throws his hands up dramatically.

We both giggle at each other and the situation. Of course, this is my life. I couldn’t have some hot guy, who gave me the best orgasm, be interested in me. No, that would be too normal. He has to be a hot
married
best orgasm giver with a mouth I would pay to have on me again.
Figures.