“What do you want me to say?” I mumble, my voice slightly more petulant than I’d intended. I like to keep mine and Kill’s life private. Not that we have a life together or anything, but he’s mine and I don’t like to share what’s mine.
I blink rapidly, shocked by my own possessive thoughts. I hadn’t even realized I felt that way about anything, let alone him.
Shit. I’m so fucked.
Addy leans forward, placing her perfectly made-up face right in front of mine. Her long platinum blonde curls spill out over her shoulder and dangle in my eyes. I bat them away, then shove her out of my bubble. “You like him,” she states, reclaiming her spot.
“I do,” I say softly, a wave of nerves pooling low in my belly. In all honesty, liking him is the least of my offenses where he’s concerned. Obsessed is more like it. Greedy, hungry…fuckingstarvingfor the man. Starving for more of his time, his words, his late-night musings. All of it.
I want to hear his voice, see his face, play with him—have him play with me.I’m so obsessed that everywhere I go I feel like I see him. I feel his presence, like he’s watching me. It’s ridiculous since I have no idea what he looks like. In my head, he’s tall, tattooed and bruting. He’s ominous and beautiful. Like a real angel, not the fictionalized kind. The dark ones who look more demon than anything, yet, they’re so beautiful it physically hurts to look upon them.
Yes. Definitely obsessed.
It’s more than that, though. I want to get to know him and hang out with him. Fuck, I just want to meet the man.
“So,” Addy says, drawing out the word in a way that makes me want to crawl into a hole. “What’s the problem? Why do you look like someone stabbed your cat?”
I open my mouth to respond, unsure what I’m even supposed to say when we’re interrupted by a very domesticated-looking Jackson. My brows furrow and I have to tug my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down to avoid laughing hysterically. Jackson Lowell, the rich, pristinely dressed, suit-wearing, blonde beefcake, is currently carrying a silver tray with three cups of coffee, creamer, and a dish of sugar like a well-trained butler.
“Jack,” Addy murmurs, looking just as perplexed as I am. “Where the fuck did you get a tea tray?”
He shrugs, not meeting either of our gazes as he sets the spread out before us, making my coffee table look like high tea at the Palace instead of an Ikea clearance item. He must feel our penetrating stares because he awkwardly shifts before coughing outmy office.And that’s the exact moment I lose it. We laugh at poor Jackson’s expense until tears are streaming down our cheeks and I’m feeling slightly better about the depressing situation.
“Whatever,” Jackson grumbles as he doctors up a cup of coffee with scientific precision. When he’s done, he silently sets it in front of Addison. Her laughter dies an abrupt death, causing an awkward tension to fill the room. He ignores it and slides a black cup of coffee in front of me before making his own and taking a seat across from us.
Eager to clear the air, I arch a brow in his direction. “What? I’m just expected to make my own coffee, now? What ever will I do?” I bring my hand to my chest and gasp in mock horror. “I can’t possibly be expected to ma—”
“Shut it!” he barks. “You’re lucky I even brought either of your ungrateful asses anything.” His lip tips up with the hint of a smirk, giving himself away. I crack a smile and dump a splash of cream in my drink before sitting back in my seat. Addy, however, is still staring at her drink like she was just gifted a Maserati. “Just drink the damn coffee, Adds.”
She jolts like she’s been shocked, then does as he commanded and sips her drink slowly. With a hum of satisfaction, she turns to me and nods. “You were just about to tell me all about your boyfriend. Go on.”
I sputter and choke on the hot liquid, shooting her a wide-eyed look. My gaze flits between her and Jackson, who’s looking mighty smug right now. Maybe I should call it a day? I have a shit ton of PTO I could be using right now instead of dealing with their insufferable asses.
“Oh, yes, Rayvn. Please, do tell all,” he murmurs, crossing a leg over the opposite knee and gesturing for me to continue. I flip him off but sigh, resigning myself to just get it out. Maybe talking it through will help me come to terms with my… situation.
“Shit,” I groan. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re both sworn to secrecy. You got it?” They nod their heads, and I’m surprised when I find Jackson giving me a serious look of understanding. “We met three weeks ago on a—” I pause, shifting uncomfortably. “Dating app.”
Jackson’s brows lift but he says nothing. Addison nods eagerly, her tiny little fits clenching her coffee cup tightly. I’m assuming she’s trying to hold herself back from going full-on postal right now. I’ve only told her a few details, none of them including what kind of app I met him on, not that I think she’d judge. She knows all about my interests, and let’s face it she’s a freak too.
“It’s all been very—” I break off searching for the word. “Simple? I mean, we matched the night I signed up. Pretty immediately, actually. I messaged him first, and we’ve been chatting back and forth regularly, but there just hasn’t been any…” I shrug, taking a deep swallow of my coffee. “Forward progression.” If you don’t count him sending me famous quotes and telling me to fuck myself at work…but, those are small victories, really.
“What do you mean?” Jackson asks before Addy can. I let out a heavy breath. I don’t know how to ask for advice without giving explicit details.
Shooting Addison a hard look, I continue. “It’s an app geared toward people with certain kinks.”
“Oh! Kinksters?” she blurts, grinning like a maniac. Slowly, I nod, my eyes darting to see Jackson’s reaction. His cheeks are a tad pink, but other than that his face is stoic and understanding, like the good lawyer he is. “I love that app,” she gushes. “I bet you’ve had a hard time weeding through all the creeps, huh?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
She’s on the app?Well, shit.I can’t say it’s completely unexpected, but—a thought rattles through my brain, making my gut clench painfully. What if she’s talking to him?Fuck.What if he’s talking to other women?
I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about that before. Kill is the only person I’ve talked to on Kinksters. In fact, he’s the only person I’ve matched with, which is fine. I’m sure there aren’t many people who are down with my long list of interests. Addy must not have been as specific if she’s receiving that many messages.
I shake my head, focusing back on the room. “No, actually. He’s the only person I’ve matched with. Don’t you find it odd that there aren’t any photos or locations?” I ask, voicing one of the details that’s been bothering me.
She tips a delicate shoulder up, her mouth latched around her coffee mug. “If you like someone, then you share those details. It’s supposed to keep everyone safe. Even if you haven’t talked to anyone else, trust me when I say, there are a shit ton of creeps and pervs on that app. If you match with someone and decide to pursue things, you can exchange numbers and private information.” She considers me for a moment, a look of calm calculation crossing her face. “You haven’t done that.”
“No,” I say, my voice heavy and despondent. I may not date much, but even I know it’s not a good sign that he’s reluctant to tell me anything personal about himself. “I don’t even know his name,” I whisper, feeling extremely embarrassed all of the sudden. Shit. I’m pretending like I have a relationship with a fucking stranger who clearly isn’t all that interested in me.
“You call him Kill, though,” she says, her brows dipping together. I nod. “I thought that was short for Killian or something.”Psh, I wish.