Page 26 of Taste of Addiction

“Taste yourself and tell me what it’s like. Remind me.”

I drag my pointer finger along my folds and gather some moisture. I turn my finger so he can see and then suck it clean between my lips. “Hmm…” I moan. “I taste a bit sweeter than usual. Maybe from all of the pineapple and fruit I’ve been eating.”

“Yum.”

“When can I see you? In person,” I specify.

“Baby…”

“Graham, you can’t keep me locked up here forever.”

“It is way more complicated than I originally thought. I’m working on a solution—even if just a temporary one.”

“I’m not sure how much more I can take here without going crazy.”

“Just give me a little more time and soon you can go back to Portland. But when you do, you’re going to have to stay at the townhouse.”

I nod. I hate being alone there. Claire will most certainly be at Ethan’s place, and Graham will have to be keeping our relationship a secret until who knows when. He has already said as much.

I watch as Graham unbuttons his collared shirt to reveal the homemade heat pressed one that says “Property of Angela McFee” across the front center. I laugh at his silly expression. “Good…and make sure every single female there knows it!”

His smile is genuine. “I am yours, sweetheart. Just as you are mine.”

6

After about a week of being a lazy scrub-a-bum, I decide that Friday is a good enough day to attempt to be productive. The sun is shining through my windows, I feel surprisingly rested, and I have a little pep in my step over being able to connect with Graham yesterday—despite it being short-lived by the inconvenience of him still being at the office.

I start my day with a largest-mug-I-can-find serving of coffee. Collins is in full-blown hover mode. I actually prefer it over the hide-and-seek mode that he was in the previous days leading up to the epic food fight. I think having him as company has helped my mental state. I have made a quarantine candy-eating game out of his stone-like expressions. If I can get him to blush or crack a smile, I can eat a piece of candy from my secret stash of peachy rings, gummy raspberries, and sour worms. It helps to have something to work toward. Because it is survival, I feel zero guilt over making Collins be part of my fun. ’Tis part of the territory for accepting the job of being Graham’s Bodyguard Gofer Bitch.

While hanging out in the kitchen with my mug of joe, I check out the pantry and find that it is lacking the main ingredients to make Christmas cookies. Darn it.

“Collins?” I ask from the bottom of the pantry.

“Yes, ma’am?”

I turn around to see him hanging out at the island. He has moved from the shadows and looks to now be on edge more than he did a day ago. This all stems from Sophia being aggressive with her taunting. No one in this house trusts that one of us won’t kill the other and then try to hide the body.

“I really would like to make some cookies today but this place has none of my ingredients.”

“Start making a list, and I’ll get Malcolm to get anything you need.”

“Okay, thanks, I appreciate it.” I pull open my favorite recipes that I have saved to my email and start jotting down everything I need onto a notepad that is lying on the counter beside the fridge. “What is your favorite type, Collins?”

He glances at me, and if I wasn’t watching for a response, I would have missed the bare hint of a blush. Score! I just won a piece of candy.

“I really like gingerbread cookies,” he says quietly.

“Okay.”

“But the ones that are decorated with royal icing and a lot of sprinkles,” he adds.

I laugh over his specifications. Never in a million years would I have guessed he would say what he just did. I guess I was expecting him to say something more rugged, like snickerdoodles or oatmeal raisin. I stare at him and make his blush warm his cheeks to an even darker shade of pink. I count this as a new piece of candy won—because, why not? My game, my rules.

When I finish with my list, I hand it over and then head back to my room to work on some heat press projects while I wait for my ingredient delivery. I find a trashy show to put on the iPad and just enjoy the mindless background noise while I get to work.

I lose myself in my projects, and it isn’t until my stomach growls that I realize it is time to eat an early lunch. I shut off the press and walk down to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

“You want one, Collins?”

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