Ick Factor (Seasons of Revenge, #4)

by Morgan Elizabeth

I love you to the moon and to Saturn.

According to her, she finishes her tasks too quickly, gets bored, and then starts digging, resulting in—

Me

The woman rarely stops long enough to have a meal, instead pulling from her drawer all day long. When she first started here, I was worried she had too much on her plate and was unable to find time. I confronted her about it, but she just laughed, telling me she would rather snack all day than sit still for that long.

MEEEE

My single status was genuinely worrying him. Which is fucked because this is the twenty-first century, and no one needs to be in a relationship to be happy,

THANK YOU

“I’m thirty and I’ve never had a job I liked for longer than three, four months. I get bored, lose the will to be there as soon as the excitement wears off, as soon as I realize I’m stuck.

ME

Because unfortunately, the ick factor doesn’t just apply to men in my life. It applies to everything. Friendships. Food. Relationships. Jobs. Interests. Hobbies.

MEEEEE

I get excited about something, hyperfixate, and mold my life to fit my new obsession. I think I’m good, this one is different, that I’ll be able to maintain the interest, and then one day, I wake up and it’s . . . gone.

for the love of god ME

ADHD will do that to you: a constant cycle of excited hyperfixation and the sudden drop as soon as that hit of dopam...

so accurate

If I were actually engaged, ready to settle down and marry a woman, I’d want someone like Katrina.

I definitely don’t touch on how seeing Katrina in that dress is fucking with me, and I absolutely don’t listen to the tiny voice telling me that despite the nerves, this feels normal. Comfortable. Easy.

I'm sure staying in this denial will go support well lol

Too bad for him, I’m really fucking competitive and I just made winning for Theo my new life’s goal.

“She was rambling on about an idea she had for the gala last year, how to add a fundraising aspect, and I looked up at her, and she was smiling. I realized she was joking, picking on me, and . . . I don’t know. Something snapped. I looked up at her and it was like something had shifted and I needed her to be mine. The world stopped spinning for a moment; everything felt hot and cold at the same time.”

But that’s not what he’s talking about, of course. He’s not remembering a moment that’s kept me up at night more than once with any kind of true fondness. It’s just . . . a useful moment he also remembers for some strange reason.

Girl!!!!! you are not this naive are you!? he likes you!

“It fills a room. It’s magical. I could have the absolute worst day of my life, hear her laughing at her desk, and instantly feel better. If laughter is medicine, Katrina’s is my cure.”

“You know, your commitment to not dating is really only hurting the women of New Jersey. The dating pool could most certainly use a gentleman like you,” I say. He squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything as we walk to the entrance of my building.

it’s the dopamine hit I get when impulse buying a pair of pretty shoes that caught my eye. Having ADHD means I have horrible impulse control, so living in a more affordable apartment is actually a point of fiscal responsibility, something both of my parents always hammered into my mind my entire life.

“I’m your sister. You have to like me.” “Millions of siblings who never talk beg to differ.”

Mine

“Theo, every time you tell me to come into your office and close the door with that grumpy, no-nonsense tone, I assume I fucked something up big time and you’re ready to fire me.”

Hey its me!!

“I got you stuck in this situation; you get whatever you need. Make it hurt, kitten.”

KITTEN omg

For a moment, I wonder if she purrs when she’s content before I scrub that out of my fucking mind.

“I love them, they remind me of my abuela. She loved them, had paintings all over her house of them. She’d always say they were a lesson, how they have to be literally frozen for like, five whole months and somehow still make a pretty flower. I see them and it reminds me of her and how sometimes we have to go through something hard and excruciating to make something beautiful and magical.” I shrug and smile, suddenly feeling silly. “Ignore me. Sometimes, I get strangely introspective.”

I’m not stressing about calling my assistant kitten and kissing her fingers like some kind of chivalrous duke,

I curl my fingers into a fist, reminding myself that punching out my fake fiancé’s competition would not really be doing what I’ve agreed to. He steps back with a douchey smile, and I reconsider once more. I could punch him, knock one of those pretty fucking veneers out. He takes another step back toward the door and suddenly, I can breathe again, out of his reach.

“Warren wouldn’t do that,” he says, resignation in his words as he pushes the printout away from him.

ummmm WARREN WOULD DO THAT

And I’ve spent every moment since putting it into a box, sealing it away from the light of day because if I ignore my problems, they go away. That’s how that works, right?

yep exactly nothing can go wrong with this

Suddenly, I feel the need to keep my hands busy.

ME

“Because I like you! I like you, Katrina, and that’s why I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re a good fucking person and a great fucking friend, and I like you. Am I so goddamned impersonal you can’t even see that?”

Because I just kissed Theodore Carter with no one watching, with no expectation, for no good reason, and I really freaking liked it.

“You’re broken?” “Oh, yeah,” I say with my normal, forced chipper attitude. “Super broken.”

Theo does not like small talk. He doesn’t like talking to and hugging dozens of people. He hates this.

how many times is too many times for me to scream MEEEEE while reading

“But what you didn’t anticipate is me. I’m as loyal as they come, and I’m fucking insane. Theo might want to play this clean and keep things good, but me? I'm happy to play in the mud with you. So before you try anything, before you try and fuck with my fiancé and his legacy, just know that if you go low, I’ll tunnel to the core of the fucking earth.”

This kiss in an empty hallway, his body lined up with mine, my jaw in his big hands, my arms sliding up to loop around his neck, is just for us.

The need that’s been pooling in my belly, seeping into my veins, is tinder, and Theo is setting fire to it.

The same way I get bored with people and jobs, I get bored with food, so having a variety throughout the day helps add a bit of a dopamine rush.

I watch with rapt attention as Theo’s deft fingers undo his shirt one button at a time, revealing tan skin, a light dusting of chest hair, small nipples I want to run my tongue over, broad shoulders begging for my fingernails, and strong arms that could definitely hold me up against a wall.

Theo Carter is perfect in every stupid way, with the perfect dusting of chest hair so he doesn’t look like a baby seal, but not too much so he toes into Sasquatch territory.

“Those words on your lips have an effect on me I still don’t quite understand, but every time you say it, I want to fuck you until you’re out of my system.”

Fuck being sensical. Fuck playing this safe. I want to taste Theodore Carter.

I don’t mention that whenever anyone says something like that in the movies, it’s the kiss of death for one and done.

At the force that is Theodore Carter, Vice President of Catalyst Records, normally all domineering and professional and put together, looking absolutely feral and hungry and on his knees before me.

It’s my specialty, after all. Becoming whatever anyone wants of me. Anticipating it, executing it, shifting.

“I want you to be mine, Katrina,” he says, and my pulse stops. “But if I can’t have that, I want you to be you.”

“Now, you listen to me, Katrina. You’re a brat in the office, you’re a brat in meetings, you’re a brat anywhere else, but when my cock is inside of you, you play nice. You be my good little assistant, and you take it how I’m ready to give it to you.”

And it scared the fuck out of me. Because every moment I spend with Theo, I feel good, happy. I feel . . . like I’m home.

His body begins to sway, mine moving with him as my arms move up, wrapping around his shoulders, and then we’re dancing in the rain together in the parking lot of the tulip farm where his parents fell in love. His head dips, pressing into the place between my neck and shoulder, and one of my hands slides up, touching and twirling his hair.

“I’ve come to learn that if I want you, I have to take all of you, Katrina. And I like every bit of you. You are chaos, and somehow, when you’re around, I like a little bit of chaos.” He puts a hand out for me to grab and tugs, lifting me until I’m flush against him.

It’s what she does to me. She warms me, soothes me. When I’m stressed or overwhelmed and feeling lost, all I have to do is look at her, touch her, remind myself she’s real, and it eases. When I pull back from the kiss, her eyes are hooded, but I can see it still.

She’s standing in just a small pair of lace underwear and her heels, her long hair draped down her back, her miles of brown skin on display, the nipples on her full breasts peaked. Not for the first time, I’m reminded that I’m the luckiest man on earth.

“You keep thinking this is going to end, so fucking scared something’s going to happen, but you don’t get it, honey. We’re it.”

“Watch me worship you,”