Sext Addict: A Sexy Romantic Comedy Reverse Harem Read online

  I considered the question and realized that he was, of course, right.

  “Or…” he said slowly and I raised a suspicious eyebrow as he shrugged, “…or you could just stop all of this and admit that participating in a sex study with three guys is not exactly your thing, Tessa Stewart.”

  There was kindness in his eyes, and I knew that he was saying this to keep me from being hurt, but I just wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  Stubbornness and willfulness suddenly flared up in my chest, and I pushed myself off from the couch, grabbing my phone.

  “What are you doing?” Ellis asked, craning his neck to follow me as I circled around the back of the couch. “Where are you going?”

  With my back turned to him, I tugged my sweatshirt up and over my head and left it behind me on the floor as I walked into my bathroom and closed the door behind me. I heard Ellis climb over the back of the couch as I turned on my phone camera.

  Ellis knocked on the bathroom door, “Uh, Tess? Why did you take off your sweatshirt?”

  “How do you take a picture of your own boobs?” I asked, tilting the camera this way and that in a failing attempt to make my breasts look more Victoria Secret-y less mammary gland-y.

  “You’re doing it?”

  “I’m doing it,” I said. “Now just tell me how to do it.”

  “Tessa, you do know that I don’t have tits, right?”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed my boobs together with my arms to get more cleavage. “You’ve never received a boob pic?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Well, which ones do you like best?”

  “Tessa, this is—”

  “Just tell me, okay?”

  I could practically see Ellis dragging his hand through his perfect hair in exacerbation.

  “Um, don’t show everything,” he said finally, his voice a little quiet, a little hesitant. “Like, cover one breast with your hand or arm or something.”

  “Okay,” I said, fumbling a little with the phone as I followed his instructions.

  “And, um, make sure you get your face in there, too,” Ellis said next.

  “What do I do with my face?” I asked, staring into the reflection I didn’t particularly like.

  Ellis was silent for a moment.

  “Ellis?”

  “Yeah, um, you don’t have to do anything,” he said. “Just, just look at your body. And see how fucking beautiful it is.”

  I paused, glancing over toward the door where he remained hidden from view. Heat grew between my legs. Was he imagining me topless?

  “He’ll see it in your eyes,” Ellis nearly whispered. “That’s the hottest part.”

  I swallowed heavily and tried to focus. It wasn’t exactly easy when I could hear Ellis behind the door. Had his breath quickened or was I just hoping that it had quickened?

  I forced myself to look in the mirror.

  “Your curves,” Ellis continued. “Your smooth skin. Your peaked nipples.”

  Wow. If Ellis kept talking that way, I was going to have to touch myself. I had to stay focused.

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” I said, clearing my throat. “Taking the picture in three, two, o—fuck, no, no, what?”

  At that very moment my phone flickered and went black: dead.

  “What?” Ellis said, his voice worried. “What happened? Tessa, are you alright?”

  I was about to curse my phone when I started laughing.

  “Tessa? Tessa, are you okay?”

  But I could barely answer him I was laughing so hard. I clutched my side and sucked in as deep of a breath as I could.

  “Tessa? Say something, because you’re freaking me out.”

  Wiping at the tears streaming from my eyes, I sank down the door till I was sitting on the floor. “I’m alright,” I gasped. “My phone just died, is all. I couldn’t get the boob pic.”

  I heard Ellis sigh in relief and sag against the door.

  “My life is a hot mess,” I added through my laughter. “A hot mess.”

  “It kind of is,” he admitted. “But it’s never boring.”

  I shook my head.

  “Things are going to work out for you, Tessa,” Ellis said after a moment of silence. “Boob pic or not.”

  I grinned, leaning my head against the door. I heard him do the same.

  And so we spent the rest of the night talking and laughing, me still leaning against the door on one side, him leaning against the same door on the other side. It was easy, natural, simple. I didn’t think about the sex study or Levi P. or a boob pic or the New Tessa even once.

  It was just me and Ellis.

  It wasn’t until later that I remembered Ellis’s date. He’d missed it because of me. But as I thought about it, the tiniest thought wiggled its way into my mind. What if he hadn’t missed it because of me?

  What if Ellis had missed his date for me?

  Chapter 8

  Tessa

  Unlike yours truly, who liked to spend her Friday nights with the company of Mr. Cookie Dough and Mr. Spoon, Ellis had actual friends (yes, the human kind), and had set me up with one of them for a date tonight on the off chance I liked the guy enough to fill one of my three open sex study spots.

  “If anyone is going to be down for sex study, it will be Tom,” Ellis had said the day before as we sat on my couch eating popcorn and watching All About Eve.

  And because of my best friend’s best intentions to get me laid by not one but three guys—at the same time—I now stood outside The Celtic Cave, the local pub just around the corner from my apartment where Tom and I had agreed to meet, pulling down the skirt Ellis had suggested I wear. “Tom is a simple man,” Ellis had said. “The more skin the better, my friend.”

  So I was now dressed in an outfit that gave me goosebumps anytime a slight breeze blew by. There was live music that night at the bar, so even if the date was a complete failure at least we wouldn’t be sitting together in awkward silence. Awkward noise was so much better.

  “Tessa?”

  I turned to see an attractive man with almond-shaped, light blue

  eyes, darkened by his long black eyelashes. Ellis’s description hadn’t done the man justice, but as attractive as his blue eyes were, they didn’t hold a candle to the deep sapphire beauty of Ellis’s.

  “Um, hi. Yes, I’m Tessa."

  “I’m Tom.” He smiled and nodded toward the door. “Shall we go in?”

  “Of course,” I said, trying to shake off the nervous energy that was radiating off of me like a heat wave off of the LA concrete. I turned to the door, and when I looked over my shoulder to make sure Tom was following, his eyes didn’t meet mine. You might assume he was looking at my butt in the tight skirt Ellis had insisted I be squeezed into, but alas, this was not the case. He was raking his fingers through his hair as he stared lovingly at his own reflection in the darkened windows of the bar.

  I pretended not to notice as he finally smiled down at me, stretching over me to hold open the door. It wasn’t exactly the same smile he gave his own reflection, but it was still enough to make my knees weak.

  Inside the bar was loud with a packed crowd for the show as the band finished setting up on the small stage stuffed into the corner.

  “Let’s claim that table near the front,” Tom whispered in my ear, leaning in close and pointing to the only empty table in the place, smack-dab in front of the cramped stage, complete with a drum set, a couple microphone stands, and beat-up amplifiers.

  He placed his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through the groups of people chatting over beers and whiskeys. As we stopped in front of the table, he held out a chair for me, then ordered drinks for us. He told me about himself while we waited for the band to start. I told myself it was going well. I told myself I was having fun. I told myself I liked him. I mean how could I not like him? He was a Disney prince come to life: impossible jaw line, glistening eyes, etcetera, etcetera.

  Sur
e, he had yet to ask me a single question about myself. Sure, I spent the first fifteen minutes listening to him list all his upcoming world travels for fashion week. He then proceeded to show me all the famous people who followed him on Instagram, to which I nodded politely and added to each a “wow” or “oh, cool” or “no way!” I tried to convince myself I was having a good time hearing about his nutritional program and his latest whey protein obsession and his favorite type of burpee. And sure, he spent more time looking at himself in the mirror on the wall behind me or in his phone camera under the guise of “checking a work email” or even once in the reflection of his vodka and soda glass than he did looking at me.

  But I reminded myself of my goals: we were talking about a sex study here. I was hoping to make a real connection with someone, but it could also just be physical, right?

  I nearly sighed in relief when the crowd cheered as the band finally came onto the stage. But my relief quickly turned into bristling irritation.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I grumbled.

  Taking his place on stage at the drum set was none other than my most favorite neighbor ever. I ducked my head and shielded my eyes with my hand in the hopes that Jamie hadn’t yet seen me. I expected Tom to lean over and ask me in a concerned voice what was wrong. But when I peeked at him from between my fingers he was not so subtly checking out his flexed bicep.

  To his credit, they were very nice biceps.

  Of all the bars in all of LA, Neanderthal Neighbor Jamie had to be playing in this one. Of all the people I could be with in front of my neighbor, it had to be “not a hair out of place,” “irons his jeans,” “eats vegan and Instagrams his green smoothies” guy. I prayed that Jamie couldn’t see me through the haze of the crowded bar and the dim dark, lit only by the neon lights of the stage.

  A cheer went up through the crowd, and I turned to catch the end of Jamie ripping his faded grey T-shirt straight down the center and flinging it from his sculpted shoulders like some sort of Irish Tarzan. Still hidden behind the cover of my hands, I couldn’t help the thrill seeing his bare chest sent through my body. In a single moment I felt more than I had talking to Tom for thirty-three agonizing minutes.

  “Oy fuckers!” Jamie shouted into the microphone set up in front of his drum kit as he twirled his drumsticks expertly between his tattooed fingers. I blushed as I wondered what else he could do with those fingers. “Let’s rock!”

  Jamie and the two guitarists next to him launched into the first rowdy, irreverent song. It was one I heard plenty of times through the paper-thin walls separating our apartments.

  “This guy is good.” Tom leaned over to shout into my ear over the noise.

  I shrugged, trying to show the highest levels of apathy possible. “I’ve heard better.”

  With a savage strength and wild passion, Jamie pounded on the drums and belted into the microphone. I felt it all thundering in my chest and it was unlike anything I’d felt before.

  “He’s really not that good at all,” I shouted toward Tom over the roar of the crowd as Jamie finished his first song and launched right into the next one, somehow exerting even more energy than before.

  A fine layer of sweat glistened across Jamie’s wide chest, covered the wiry red hair on his pecs, and slipped down his abs. He was hypnotic to watch as he threw himself completely into the music, his eyes closed, his arms flailing, foot pounding at the bass drum.

  “In fact, it’s pretty bad, if you ask me,” I shouted to Tom, though I could already hear my voice losing its conviction.

  I hadn’t even bothered to take my eyes off of Jamie in order to speak to him. How could I? I’d never seen someone bare their soul so openly in front of total strangers before. He wasn’t hiding anything—the man wasn’t holding a single thing back from his audience. I wasn’t even sure he knew that we were there at a certain point. It was just Jamie and the drums and the music and the lights. I couldn’t look away.

  “I don’t like him,” I said.

  I hadn’t thought Tom would have been able to hear me. But he scooted closer to me.

  “What?”

  “I mean, I don’t like his music,” I corrected quickly.

  Out of the corner of my eye, because I still refused to look away from Jamie, I saw Tom shake his head.

  “Then you’re crazy.”

  I remained in some weird hypnotic state for a total of five songs, steadily downing an additional two drinks Tom ordered for me, and unable to keep my eyes off the stage.

  Finally, Jamie stood, nearly breaking the drums as he hammered out the final notes of the song. The crowd went crazy, cheered him on, feet stomping and hands clapping.

  “Whiskey break, you bunch of assholes,” he shouted over the applause. “Back in fifteen.”

  The bar broke into movement, with people hurrying toward either the long line for the bathroom or the long line for the bar or the long line of people vaping outside against the brick exterior of the bar.

  “Another drink?” Tom asked, shaking his empty vodka and soda glass.

  I nodded. “Sure.” Why not?

  He stood and I sighed, because he was hot and nice and, sure, maybe a little vain, but who isn’t? Still, I felt nothing. Nilch. Notta. Zippo. Even if it was just all physical for the sex study, I needed to feel something.

  I was in the middle of sighing again when someone bumped into our table.

  “Oh, sorr—” I stopped when I saw Jamie towering over me, bare chest still heaving like an animal in the middle of hunting its prey.

  “What are you apologizing for?” he asked, that infuriating grin there again at the corner of his lips.

  I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. “I wasn’t apologizing.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Jamie chuckled. “Alright, Tina,” he said. “You weren’t apologizing for someone else running into your table.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “It’s Tessa.”

  He shrugged. “Close enough.”

  He was trying to get a rise out of me. He was searching for my buttons. I wasn’t going to give in.

  “I’m actually here with someone, Jamie.” I made a little shooing motion with my hand back toward the stage. “So if you don’t mind…”

  “Yeah, I saw him,” Jamie said, distractedly looking around. I watched him grab a beer out of a guy’s hand and the guy let him when Jamie gave him a smile and an extra Irish-y, “Cheers.”

  I rolled my eyes, though inside I knew I would probably have let him have the drink, too.

  “Is he your brother?” Jamie asked me after finishing the beer in one long drink.

  My mouth fell open. “No. He’s my date.”

  Jamie easily looked over the heads of the crowd to find Tom at the bar. He looked back down at me. “Why hasn’t he touched you, then?”

  I frowned up at him. “He has.”

  “He’s touched his own hair more than he’s touched you,” Jamie said.

  “That’s not true,” I said, knowing even as I forced the words defiantly out of my mouth that it was absolutely true.

  “Why are you with him?” Jamie asked, ignoring my weak protests. “He’s not your type at all.”

  I spit out a laugh. “Oh, you know my type all of a sudden?”

  A dark grin tugged up the corners of Jamie’s lips. “I know it’s not Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch over there. Tell me what you’re doing with him.”

  I checked over my shoulder to see Tom nearly at the front of the line for the bar. “Would you just beat it?” I growled out. “You’re so irritating.”

  “Are you robbing him? Is this some sort of con?”

  “No.”

  “You’re his math tutor?”

  “I failed freshman algebra.”

  “Geography?”

  “Get lost, Jamie.”

  Jamie glanced again over at Tom. “He’s a prostitute then,” he said, grinning down at me. “Look, Tonya, if you wanted to get laid, you
just had to ask your lovely next door neighbor.”

  I glared as he obviously tried to contain his laughter at my own expense.

  “We...are...on...a...date,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

  Jamie shook his head. “I know that’s not true.”

  I threw my hands up into the air in frustration. “Why?” I nearly wailed. “Why is that so hard to believe, next door neighbor I don’t even know?”

  With his massive arms, Jamie easily grabbed Tom’s chair, lifted it over the table, and slammed it on the floor. He sat down in it, like a giant in a child’s play set chair, and gripped the sides of my own chair. I gasped when he dragged me close to him, so my knees were butted up against the edge of his own chair. His thighs enveloped me.

  “Because,” Jamie said, his eyes flashing as he looked me intensely, “you want more than him. You want someone who can make you feel more than this.”

  He ran his hand up my leg and goosebumps erupted all over my body. I shivered.

  “You want someone who can make you feel this.”

  Jamie placed his hand over my heart and I felt my own pounding, erratic heart beat against his palm. Eyes locked together, I didn’t understand how my heart was still beating: it felt like I hadn’t breathed in hours, days.

  “It’s for a sex study I’m going to do,” I breathed out like a confession. I didn’t even realize I was saying it until the words were out, in the hot, heavy air between us, unable to take back. I watched the surprise on Jamie’s face as he processed what I had just said through the fog of whiskey and beer.

  “Well aren’t you just full of surprises,” he said, a naughty grin spreading over his face.

  Wait, did I just tell my Neanderthal neighbor I was doing a sex study? Panic filled my chest and I fumbled for words to explain myself as Jamie watched me intently with a growing smile.

  “I, I—”

  “I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “Wait! My date—”

  “You’re gorgeous tonight, Tandy. You’re on a date, and you look amazing. You deserve to be kissed with passion. With lust. And that douchebag won’t have any idea how to kiss you and mean it. So unless you tell me no in five…four…three…”