Deeply Destructive (Addicted To You, Book Four) by Lucy Covington Page B

me dizzy.
    He readjusted the frying pan on the burner, then turned on the heat. I tried not to think of it as a metaphor.
    “Now put some butter in that pan, Pip,” he said.
    I cut off a small slab and dropped it in.
    “More.”
    I did as I was told.
    He got to work whisking the eggs and then poured them into the pan.
    “Now stir,” he instructed. “And don’t stop.”
    He started laying bacon into another pan, and after a moment, the sound of sizzling filled the air followed by the salty scent of frying meat.
    We worked in silence for a few moments, and I tried not to look over at him. It was so surprising, the fact that he could cook. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he did something that made me realize I didn’t know anything about him.
    “You’re not stirring,” he said.
    “Oh.” I looked down. He was right. I’d stopped stirring the eggs.
    He moved behind me, his arms enveloping my waist. He put his hand gently on mine and guided the spatula. “See? You have to keep moving them, or they get stuck to the bottom.”
    “Yeah,” I said, just barely getting the words out. “Thanks.”
    Goosebumps had broken out on my arms. I was so aware of just... him.
    Everything about him. The way his body felt against mine, the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the tiny bit of stubble on his face.
    I’d used to think that the girls who’d had tons of sex in high school had no self-control. But I was beginning to think that if they’d felt the way I did when Justin was near me, then I couldn’t blame them.
    He stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, his hand on mine.
    “Got it now?” he breathed into my ear.
    “Yeah,” I said. “I got it.”
    I turned around, but he didn’t move. Now we were standing there, my back up against the stove, his arms around me, effectively pinning me in.
    The air crackled with electricity, and my stomach fizzed with anticipation.
    He swallowed, and I could see his Adam’s apple moving. “God, Lindsay,” he whispered. He reached up and moved a piece of hair off my face.
    It was almost unbearable, standing this close to him, looking into his eyes, and not kissing him.
    My phone rang, cutting some of the tension in the room, as the spell was broken.
    Toxic by Britney Spears went trilling through the apartment, echoing from where my purse was sitting on the table by the front door. I must have dropped my purse there when he led me to his room last night.
    Justin stepped back and let me walk past.
    “I see you haven’t changed your ringtone, Pip,” he grinned, like nothing had happened. He started pulling a plate down from the cupboard and laying strips of cooked bacon onto it. “You better answer it.”
    The last thing I wanted to do was answer my phone. In fact, whoever was calling and interrupting this moment was going to end up making it up to me from now until forever.
    Meanwhile, Justin was over on the other side of the kitchen now, popping toast into the toaster and humming happily under his breath.
    I headed for the hallway, then rummaged through my purse and pulled out my phone. It showed a number I didn’t recognize, and I frowned. I hardly ever got calls from phone numbers I didn’t know. The screen was showing a 617 area code, though, so I knew it had to be someone in the Boston area.

    Dr. Klaxton.
    I knew it was stupid, but it was the first name that popped into my head. What if he was calling to tell me he was sorry for the way he’d treated me, and he wanted to give me another chance? Maybe it was one of those weird tests that you always hear about professors giving people, like in that movie Legally Blonde.
    “Hello?” I answered, trying not to sound too eager.
    “Lindsay?”
    “This is she.”
    “I know it’s you, what the hell happened last night?”
    “Who is this?” The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
    “It’s Adam!”
    Oh. Right. Adam. I hadn’t bothered to program his number into my phone when