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

night sat on the couch, wrinkled and discarded.
    Other than that, the apartment was neat and tidy.
    I walked into the kitchen and hunted around until I found the glasses, then poured myself some water.
    Justin was still in the other room, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. It felt kind of weird, just standing here in his kitchen. I opened the refrigerator. It was surprisingly stocked for an apartment with two guys living in it. There were containers of cut up vegetables and fruits, some meats and cheeses, cartons of orange juice, a couple of takeout containers, and various condiments and dressings.
    I rooted around until I found some eggs and bacon.
    Should I make breakfast?
    I was hungry and I wanted to, but I also didn’t want to come across as being all stalkery. It was the weekend, so it’s not like I had to be at class, but maybe Justin had things to do. Or maybe he just wanted to get rid of me. Maybe he --
    “Hey.” Justin peeked around the side of the refrigerator and I almost screamed.
    “You scared me!”
    “Sorry.” He just stood there, grinning that mischievous little grin of his, like he knew a secret I didn’t.
    “How’s Gil doing?” I asked, trying to sound like it was every day that I slept over a boy’s apartment and watched him walk around half-naked.
    “He’s good. Tired, a little nauseous. But he’s going to be fine. He went into the spare room for some reason. I guess he likes sleeping on the floor.”
    “That’s good. That’s he’s going to be okay, I mean.”
    “Yup.” He leaned against the wall, still looking at me with that smug little look.
    “So what are you doing in my refrigerator?”
    “I was going to make breakfast.”
    “Good idea. I’m starving.”
    “Eggs and bacon?”
    “Sounds good.” He reached into the breadbox and pulled out a loaf of bread.
    “And toast, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    I brought the eggs and bacon over to the stove and set them down. Justin crossed his arms over his chest, watching me.
    “Um, what are you doing?” I asked.
    “Watching you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re cute.”
    There was a lightness about him this morning, so different from the way he’d been last night. Last night he’d been dangerous and dark and brooding. This morning he seemed playful and flirty.
    I felt myself start to blush. “Where’s your frying pan?” I asked.
    “Right there.” He pointed to a lower cupboard, and I bent down and opened it. I pulled the frying pan out, and when I stood up, Justin let his eyes move up my body slowly, not even trying to hide what he was doing.
    I swallowed and moved to the stove, setting down the pan on one of the front burners. “Do you have any, um, cooking spray?”
    “Cooking spray?” He sounded outraged. “For what?”
    “You know, to spray the pan.” I gestured at it. “So that the eggs don’t stick.”
    “Oh, Lindsay.” He shook his head at me. “We don’t use cooking spray in this house. Cooking spray is for girls.”
    “I am a girl.”
    “Trust me.” He took in a deep breath and grinned. “I know.”
    “So then what do you use?” I asked, ignoring his comment.
    “Butter.” He moved over to the refrigerator and pulled out a flowered butter dish.
    “You have a flowered butter dish?”
    “Wyatt’s mom got it for him,” he said defiantly. “It’s convenient. Besides, you shouldn’t be mocking my butter dish when you’re looking for cooking spray. You obviously have a lot to learn about cooking.”
    “And you’re going to teach me?” I asked skeptically.
    “Don’t look so surprised, Pip,” he said. His took a step closer to me, and his eyes moved up and down my body again, slower this time. “There are a lot of things I can teach you.”
    I shivered as he moved past me to the counter. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I wanted to tell him that if he expected me to pay attention to anything he was about to say, he should put his damn shirt on. His biceps were making