Hothouse Flower (Calloway Sisters #2)

by Krista Ritchie

And I shouldn’t care how Daisy feels—we’re not together—but it’s been tearing up my fucking lungs. For fuck’s sake, I told Daisy to go screw another guy. Yet, I still hope that she can’t find someone, even if that someone is good for her.

That’s why I’m here with Emilia. That’s why I have to date again, even if it kills me inside.

I unconsciously imagine those lips as pale pink, that hair as blonde, that smile as bright, and that laugh as energetic and full of fucking life as Daisy’s. I harden. Fuck me.

“Daisy…” What do I say? I’m sorry for going down on another girl? Daisy isn’t my girlfriend. I also warned her that I would be dating again. If this is the right path, then why the fuck do I feel like I need to explain myself? The answer is there, I just don’t want to fucking accept it. It can’t be my reality.

Mostly because it feels like I’m cheating on Daisy. The guilt just keeps on coming.

From that moment, I knew it was going to be hard trusting anyone beyond the six of us. How can you when a simple fact like I hate Justin Bieber could be worth a grand to a magazine?

And I have a hard time imagining her seeing anyone’s dick but mine. Nausea barrels through me.

I’ve been sleeping in the same bed as her. I’ve been taking care of her. She’s mine. She feels like she belongs to me. I don’t want to share her with any other fucking guy. And I don’t want to be with any other fucking girl. Anything else feels like a sickening betrayal. How the fuck did we get to this place?

“You can orgasm,” I tell her. “I’ve fucking heard you, sweetheart.” There’s no answer. I called her sweetheart—I do it unconsciously, and I know every time I say it, her lips rise. “Daisy?” “Huh?” She laughs a little. “Can you say that again?”

“I just don’t understand why I meet people and they seem so perfect for me, and then I get them in bed, and they’re just…wrong.” She pauses. “I think it’s me.” “I already hate this fucking guy.” That’s a real understatement. “You would hate him more if you saw him. He thought I was a virgin, and he was happy to deflower me upon a first-time meeting.” I glare. I want to rewind time and take everything back. I want to tell her to not date a single fucking soul.

I don’t fucking blame her sisters or my brother for not noticing the change in Daisy from that point on. She likes to make it seem like she’s okay, even when she’s not. She hates whining, crying and throwing tantrums because she thinks she’ll come across as immature. When she’s hanging out with all of us, people in their twenties, she’d do anything to avoid that label. God fucking forbid she act her age.

People forget that I have almost as much money as the Calloway girls, all pooled in my trust fund. I just never break into it for more than I need. The most expensive thing I own is my fucking car.

“Is that her?” Emilia’s eyes brighten at the phone. I don’t like that look on her fucking face.

“I’m just joking around, Ryke.” She tosses the pills back to me. I catch it with one hand. “Daisy knows that.” “I’m not fucking joking.” I hear Daisy’s voice go hysterical in my fucking ear. “Stop, Ryke, you can’t kick her out. She may sell that info to the press.” She probably will anyway.

“Six minutes flat?” I ask him. He shakes his head with a smile. “Five forty.” “Damn.” That’s really fucking good.

“I have to take this.” “Don’t take her too hard. She’s young and impressionable.” I flip him off, standing to answer the call while he laughs.

I am so emotionally involved with that girl. If someone told me she was crying two years ago, I would have called Lily or Rose to deal with it. But I want to be the one to protect Daisy.

I’m racing towards her when I should be slamming on the fucking brakes. I know how to stop. But I’m not going to. I don’t want to. That’s the fucking truth.

Ryke stands four stairs above me, wearing a leather bike jacket and dark jeans. “I flew in after you called me. I just fucking got here.”

“Didn’t you hear? He was a very uncomfortable pillow.” “I thought I was your fucking pillow.” I stiffen. “You didn’t want to be my pillow, remember? In fact, you told me to find a replacement.” “How’s that going for you?” he asks roughly. I can feel him tapping into his asshole side pretty fast. “Amazing,” I say. “Sleep has never been better.” “Must be why you have dark circles under your eyes.”

“You caught me,” I say with a shrug. “I haven’t found a decent pillow replacement, but I’m still on the hunt, per your request.”

With a deep inhale, his muscles flex, and anger shrouds his gaze. I add, ...

A lump rises in my throat. “It looked like you enjoyed going down on her.” He stares unflinchingly, that rage brewing. When he doesn’t reply, I just shrug and add more, “Which is good, you know. ...

And then his lips meet mine, kissing me with abrupt, forceful passion that explodes my chest. A breathless moan leaves me before I can catch it. Our bodies connect like t...

He hikes both of my legs around his waist, pinning me to the wall, to this place, to him. His tongue effortlessly slides into my mouth, wrestling with mine in the most natural way possible. My fingers slide into his thick, so...

He breaks away once, his hand above my head as his whole body weight melds against me. He says in a low masculine voice, “You don’t need to replace me. You can have me, ...

He holds me securely, his arms firmly on my hips. And then he grinds forward, his dick right up against the spot that begins to ache and pulse. I have never been so wrapped up in a single person, in a single moment. Ryke Meadows has invigorated my body and soul. He is more than just my pillow.

My wolf. My bodyguard. He’s my everything.

“Every theory you’ve ever fucking had about men, I’m going to prove wrong,” he tells me. My chest collapses.

“I had a theory that not kissing is sexier than kissing.” I was so stupid. I could do this forever with Ryke. “I know,” he says. “And now?” His eyes fall to my lips. I smile bright. “Just fucking kiss me.” And he does, a grin lifting his lips.

I dig into him and clench his hair harder, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, denying him my lips for a second. He tries to go forward to kiss me fully, and I resist, drawing back an inch. He stares at my mouth, his lips parted as he watches me with a lustful gaze. When I close the gap between us, my tongue runs against his, and his muscles harden. A groan catches in his throat.

I toy with him again. And I lean back, subconsciously thinking a wall will brace me. There’s nothing. Air rushes out of me as I fall backwards, but Ryke supports me with his hands on my bottom. He lets me hang upside down, the blood rushing to my head.

We’ve crossed one boundary, and I know we’re both the type of people to never slow down, to run around the bases at high speed. I want that with him. To freakin’ make a home run like we’re track stars on a baseball field.

“I’m not tired,” I tell him. “If anything, I’m…” I can’t even say it. “Wet?” He takes his hand off my ass and slips it down the front of my shorts. Holy shit. His fingers don’t go beneath my panties. He cups my heat, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re not nearly soaked enough for me, sweetheart.”

Ahh. I breathe heavily and I wrap my arms around his neck. Take me there. Right when I think he’s going to brush my panties to the side and slip his fingers into me, he retracts his hand from my shorts.

“Why stop?” I frown. “Is it because we’re in a stairwell?” His hard gaze soaks in all of me. “Calloway, I’d fuck you in every corner of every hallway and then do it ...

“And I’d be more likely to fuck you in a stairwell than on a bed.” “Why?” He combs his fingers through my hair and holds the back...

He kisses me strongly again, my whole body pulling towards him. My hips roll into his pelvis. He turns his head from me and grips my waist hard. “Fuck,” he groans. His eyes fall to the way we’re pressed together, his cock rubbing along a throbbing place of mine. “How big are you?” I ask with heavy breath. I can feel him through his jeans. I know he’s big. I know he’s hard. I know he’s everything that I want. “You’re not finding out today.” I stick out my bottom lip. “Don’t...

“Would you be upset if I dated the model from the other night again?” His reaction says it all. He sets me on my feet with firm hands, and he clenches the railing on either side of me. Anger laces his dark eyes.

“You crushed my heart when you told me to go sleep with another guy.” “I didn’t fucking—” He growls in frustration and runs his hand through his hair. I love, love when he does that, even when he’s upset. It lights my core on fire. “I never wanted you to screw someone else! For fuck’s sake, it broke my heart telling you to even pursue another guy.”

“Look at me,” he says. My eyes meet his. He cages me back against the railing. “I can’t watch you flirt with another fucking guy.” I shouldn’t bring it up again, but I do. “I watched you go down on another girl.” Pain wells inside me again, my stomach tightening at the image. “You kissed her knee. You looked at her like she was beautiful—” He covers my mouth with his large hand. “Fucking stop.”

“I kissed you tonight because I want your lips to only touch mine. From now until forever. That’s the fucking truth.” He drops his hand. My heart can’t stop slamming into my chest. From now until forever.

I skim my hands down his arms. He doesn’t withdraw. He’s serious. He wants to be together, no more dating other people.

“I’m going to spell it out for you,” he says, “because I’m still fucking worried you don’t understand what I want.” I smile. “Okay.” “We’re together,” he says pointblank. “I’m not going to be with anyone but you, even if no one else fucking knows that. We don’t date other people for show. They just think we’re single.” I nod. “I like it.”

We’re the only ones who hopped on Connor’s company jet. And it’s a new situation that none of us are used to—the three of us alone with Daisy. Usually it’s Lily, not the youngest, wildest Calloway with us.

Daisy looks fucking terrible. And I don’t say anything about it, but I think we all can tell that she hasn’t been sleeping. She’s really fucking pale, her body frailer, and all I want to do is hold her and tuck her into bed. I wear my concern outwardly, and I don’t give a shit if someone hounds me for it. I’m fucking concerned, and I’m going to stay that way.

“Not that it’s any of your business—I’m having a fight with my wife,” he says. “My mind was somewhere else.” He’s still fighting with her?

Lo laughs, not taking the insult to heart. See—that shit is fucking annoying. If I said that to Lo, he’d give me the cold shoulder. But for Connor, he can say whatever he wants in this mellow, chill way and get any reprieve from my brother.

She has a chair propped underneath the handle of her bathroom door. I set it back on four legs before any of the guys notice and ask questions.

“But you can console her?” Daisy asks. “I’m her husband, her equal.” I can sense Daisy reading into that last word. Her shoulders fall at the idea of not being equal to her sister, at being less somehow.