Page 67 of Taste of Addiction

“Umm, well,” I start. I don’t know why I am nervous about telling him. It’s not like I need permission. I just know how possessive and overprotective he can be. “Claire wants to have a girls’ night. I think she missed me while I was quarantining.”

“Can you have it at the penthouse?”

“With you hovering around the corner?”

“Pretty sure someone will be hovering no matter where you guys decide to go,” he says casually. “It’s not safe for you to be left unaccompanied. And I don’t think drinking is a good idea right now while we try to figure out everything else.”

I glance down at my phone with the incoming text. “She wants to hit a dance club this Friday. Hasn’t given me a name. I can promise to only do mocktails.”

Graham sighs. “Accept an entourage and make sure it is a reputable venue and not the dive bar you like to attend.”

I scrunch my face up at his hoity-toity attitude. “How will I know it meets your standards, Mr. Hoffman?”

“Keep it up with the fake formalities and I’ll throw you over my shoulder, skip the line to the restroom, and fuck you on top of the vanity this round.”

I stare at my nails in boredom, then glance up at him with innocent eyes. “You make it sound like that would be a punishment.”

“Insatiable,” he hisses.

“You made me this way.”

Graham takes a sip of his gingerbread latte. “Guilty.”

I laugh and get back to business. “How about the new place that just opened a few months ago on the south side? Stride? No, um, Spark? That’s not it either.”

“Slay?”

I hit my hand on the table. “Yes!”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and places it up to his ear. “Angie wants to have a girls’ night at Slay. Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” He shuts off his phone and then takes a bite of the cinnamon roll that I have been picking at between sips of my coffee.

“So?”

“I’ll let you know once Collins checks it out. If it seems like they actually follow fire code, have multiple exit routes, and train their employees on emergency procedures, I will consider.”

“You realize how silly this sounds, right?”

“You realize I don’t care about a lot of things, but your safety is something I do care about? I won't budge on this.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Maybe it will be the night they bring in the male strippers,” I tease, but try to keep my tone nonchalant.

“Then that will be the night that you do not attend,” he says blankly, as if he knows my comment is just meant to try to poke at him.

Graham throws away our trash, stuffs a few bills into the tip jar, and escorts me out of the shop. It doesn’t take us long to get back to our building, and when we do, I am on edge. My skin starts to crawl with need now that the distractions are gone. Graham pushes the call button for the elevator once we cross through the lobby. He glances down at me, concern in his eyes.

“These first steps are the hardest. But food and exercise will help.”

“Is that why you are skipping work? To babysit me?”

“It’s called support,” he says sadly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take out my frustrations on you. I’m starting to feel like my body is bubbling with need. My head is starting to hurt.”

He takes my hand and we walk into the elevator together. He tugs me to him and lets go of my hand to instead wrap his arm around me. I kick off my shoes once we are in the foyer and am surprised to see the door into the main part of the house open. I look up to Graham for answers but am just greeted with a look of indifference.

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