Hothouse Flower

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DAISY CALLOWAY

I lie on my stomach beneath Ryke’s sheet, naked. In his apartment. I have my head buried underneath the pillow and my hand shielding the blue glow of my phone, trying not to wake him.

3:14 a.m. blinks on the top of my cell, reminding me that not even a night of wild sex—from his kitchen counter to the floor to the bed—puts me to sleep for long. I average a solid four hours, which sucks.

I open a series of missed texts from my older sister.

I need out of this house. We’re considering moving to an apartment, but Lily says I would hate it. What do you think? – Rose

We’ve been on the East coast for a whole week, which has given our publicists enough time to make a press release: Rose Cobalt is expecting a baby! Gossip sites are going crazy speculating the baby’s name and the gender. Lily said the paparazzi tried to climb the hedges the other day, wanting a photo of Rose’s belly. She’s not even showing yet. I heard Connor strengthened the security around their Princeton house, but Rose must have called it quits.

I send back: You’d absolutely hate it. Not enough closet space.

And then I open another missed text.

We’re looking for places in Philly or around the area. – Rose

I smile. I’m in Philly. Ryke is in Philly. But there are other reasons they’d choose this location too. Calloway Couture and Cobalt Inc. are located here. Nothing is tying them to Princeton, New Jersey. Their commute already sucks, and Lily finishes her final college class in December. She’ll be an official graduate, free to move wherever she likes.

If they decide to keep living together, that is.

No one has talked about the separation of Lily and Lo / Connor and Rose yet. They’ve been rooming in the same house for so long that it’d be kinda weird for them to split up. But Rose is pregnant now. Maybe everyone’s just going to move on with their own lives.

My smile fades. If that’s the case, then I barely got any time with my sisters before they started their own families.

Being the youngest blows.

I click into another text.

I’d really love to talk to you. Please, Daisy. – Mom

I delete it almost immediately. I don’t even want to think about what she did. I don’t want to let those emotions in, so I push them away like I’ve seen Ryke do so many times before.

Last unread message:

Ugh. I need a fucking drink. Pregnancy is making me empathize with Loren. I already hate it. – Rose

And then my pillow is flung off my head. I’m caught red-handed. Ryke edges closer to me, fully naked, and his leg brushes against mine as he grabs my phone. He checks the time, and his eyes harden. “You slept for a fucking hour, Calloway.”

“I know. I feel badly about that,” I say. “You can go back to sleep. I won’t disturb you anymore.” I’m about to slide off the bed, but he spreads his strong arm across my back, keeping me on my stomach, right here on his mattress.

The place between my legs clenches. Oh God. Again? I am so insanely attracted to Ryke Meadows that my body doesn’t know how to handle it.

He shifts on top of me, and his lips brush against my ear. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” he breathes. “I want you in our bed, all fucking night.” Our bed. I smile, being reminded that we’re moving in together. We haven’t told anyone, and we’ve been bouncing back from his apartment to mine, not sure which one we should pick.

It feels normal though.

And I guess, in a way, we’ve been doing this since I graduated, just without the sex.

He pushes the covers off of me, exposing my bare back and bottom underneath him. He kisses my shoulders, his tongue stroking my skin with each deep, sensual kiss. It’s torture—his kisses. They’re the best because they heighten every sensation, but they also make me crave for something hard between my legs.

I turn my head to watch his broad muscles flex, the lines of his abs sharpening. He is so effing hot. I blink, just to make sure that this isn’t a dream—that I’m truly with the brooding, rough, sexy guy that I’ve known for years.

His lips descend to my ass, holding my bottom as he kisses my smooth flesh. Ahhh… I feel wet just by the way he’s staring at my body. We share the same expression, the same attraction.

He flips me over, and I pant heavily. He’s kneeling, towering above me, and my eyes trace his sculpted, lean muscles, the darkness in his eyes. I feel small beneath him. Not because of my age. Just feminine. A girl to his man.

I need him inside of me. “I think…I think I’m addicted to sex,” I say, not able to catch my breath and I’m just lying here, looking at him.

He almost smiles. “You love sex. That doesn’t mean you’re addicted to it.”

“How do you know?” I breathe shallowly.

“Because you’d be insatiable. You would’ve been looking at porn on your fucking cellphone right then, even after I came inside of you tonight.”

My lips rise. “Twice.”

“About to be three times, Calloway.”

I bunch the sheets in my hands around me and turn my face into the mattress. “You aren’t real,” I say dramatically with a big smile.

And then he suddenly steps off the bed and yanks my ankle so I reach him. Oxygen rushes out of my lungs. I look at his cock that’s a lot harder than before. There’s not as much pain when he fits inside of me, but if I’m not wet enough for him, he’ll grab lube. He’s really aware of how easily he can hurt me, and his attention to this only makes me love him more.

But he doesn’t fill me yet.

He bends my knees, and his head drops between my legs. I gasp before his mouth even touches the tender, aching place that begs for his skill. Ryke excels in many areas, but this has to be on a whole other level.

I grip his hair as his tongue and lips work on me in sync. I like that he’s the only guy who’s every gone down on me before, who’s ever kissed that intimate spot. He locks my legs from moving, his arms around them as he holds my waist with two strong hands.

I alternate from clenching his hair or placing my hand on his. “Ryke,” I gasp, my breath quickening. “Oh God…I can’t…” My back starts to buck, and I clutch his head.

His mouth is right there.

His head is between your legs.

He’s kissing you.

He has your body in his grasp.

He’s naked.

I’m about to freak out.

I cry, my mouth opening and my fingers scrunching his thick brown hair. Oh my God. I barely catch my breath as I watch him stand up and then place one knee on the mattress. I’ve seen him do this move so many times before—the one knee on the bed to get a little closer to my body. But never without clothes. Never with an erection and me lying naked below.

He pulls my leg up to his waist, and as he grips his shaft, he slowly slides his hard cock inside of me. I think I just whimpered.

Normally I’d sit up to meet him, but my limbs have jellified. I let him pound against me just like this. And I watch him absorb the way our bodies meet, his hardness rocking into me with a pulsing rhythm. I feel so full—I can’t even describe. There’s no room for anything else but him.

A nerve electrifies, and I moan. The sensations never die down. His gaze focuses on me. He looks intoxicated by my reactions and body’s responses. His lips part at one point, and he ends up putting his hand on the mattress, lowering closer to me, and his erection goes deeper. Still one foot on the ground.

“Ryke!” I cry, the pleasure too much. I cover my face with my hands. I’m done. Blown away. A million pieces. But that’s not true. I’m still climbing this freakin’ mountain. It’s so intense that I just want to reach the top already. I suffocate for breath, but my lungs won’t cooperate.

He tears my hands away from my face, and I rest them against his neck as he kisses me strongly. He helps me breathe with the embrace, forcing oxygen to my lungs, and then he lifts my leg a little higher, and my head tilts back.

He drives into me without stopping. His pace picks up, and his eyes flicker between his dick hammering into me and my mouth that refuses to close, cries breaching my lips.

He groans. “Fuck.” He moves faster and faster. So hard. So crazy. So fucking insane. “Dais…”

“Ryke…” My hands find his, one on the backside of my thigh, raising my leg, the other on the bed beside my hair. I hold both, and with one more thrust, he’s true to his word.

He releases, and I feel my body clenching around him. I shut my eyes and breathe. I just ran around the world in thirty-five minutes.

He stays inside of me while he crawls onto the bed and pulls me into his arms. We kiss for probably another five minutes. And then as we both relax against each other, he says, “This wasn’t to help you fall asleep.”

He’s mentioned on numerous occasions that he would never medicate me with sex. “It was a just because fuck?” I ask with a smile.

“No,” he whispers, “it was an I love you fuck.”

I brighten. “No wonder it was my favorite.”

He combs my hair, my breathing beginning to match his steady rhythm. “Do you need me to check the doors?” he asks.

“I’m okay.” I’m not as paranoid as I was before we were together. I don’t think starting a relationship necessarily fixed my problems. But knowing Ryke will be here for me one-hundred percent—it’s a security that I didn’t have before. It squashes most of my irrational fear.

I rest my cheek against his chest. I don’t fall back to sleep right away. And he stays awake with me for however long it takes. Just holding my bare, tired body until slumber finally calls me to a peaceful place.

I drift to sleep in his arms, where I know I’ll be safe.