I scan my new room.

Clothes are arranged in the closet: check

Bed made: check

Furniture dusted: check

Everything looks in its right place, except for the box in the corner. For the life of me, I just can’t open it to retrieve its contents. It’s too much of a reminder that I’m a patient in this place, and my mind just refuses to accept it.

Sylvie was right about one thing.

My initial fears that I’d be kicked out on the first day were unreasonable.

I spent the day in knots, waiting for the call to come. When nothing happened—no letter of transfer, no complaint filed against me—I checked in with the therapist on the following morning. She acted like nothing happened.

Except for the odd glance she threw at me whenever I mentioned Bruce, she kept most remarks to herself, and we focused on my feelings and childhood, which was fine.

I didn’t really want to talk about Bruce, and she didn’t seem very keen on it, either.

I’ve been here for five days, during which I’ve only attended the morning sessions with my therapist. I’m too afraid of others’ judgment and am not ready for a group meeting.

Luckily, it’s not mandatory.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re avoiding me.” A deep voice startles me.

I turn around and find Kade standing next to my bed.

My breath catches in my throat and heat shoots up my neck, as if he’s just caught me doing something naughty.

Which is ridiculous.

I frown, ready to spit fire at him for bursting into my room uninvited. And yet all I can think about is—

Wow, he looks hot.

Dressed in a black shirt and jeans that hang low on his hips, with his dark hair falling into his face, he looks sexy, but with a dangerous touch.

Yes, I’ve been trying to avoid him—successfully so. There’s something about this man that makes me want to hide from him. He’s too full of himself, too rash, and maybe I do find him attractive just a little bit, even though he really isn’t my type.

I thought I could go on like this for as long as we’re forced to live together.

Fat chance.

“I’ve been hanging out with a friend,” I reply, my voice a bit too breathy.

Which is only partly the truth. While I’m seeing Sylvie every day after the morning session, I like to spend my afternoons reading in the rehab’s own library rather than seek out all the creative arts or sports activities on offer.

“You’re a Jane Austen fan,” Kade says and picks up the book arranged on my pillow. It’s a little thing my mom gave me, the edges almost falling apart. I still remember the first day my mom read it to me. I was five and into fairytales and even harbored the stupid dream of marrying a prince.

“Don’t touch my things.” I snatch the book out of his hands and press it against my heart.

“You didn’t strike me as the literary kind.”

“Well, I am. Not that it’s any of your business.” I frown at his choice of words. I should be insulted, but for some reason, I’m not quite.

Not when he looks so damn hot. It’s like he’s taking up the room and stealing all the air to breathe.

“Fair enough.” He holds out his hands in a peace gesture and starts walking around, completely violating my privacy by examining all the books I brought with me.

Every part of my body is on high alert, expecting another snarky remark.

“You arrange all your books alphabetically,” Kade says.

“Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “You’ve turned this into a nice place. Gave it a little personality,” he says as he keeps looking around, his gaze settling on my bed.

He doesn’t need to say what he’s thinking.

I can see it. It’s right there, in the tightness in his jeans.

My heartbeat spikes unnecessarily.

“Why are you here, Kade?”

I can feel the heat seeping deep into my bones. He turns his back to me, giving me a few seconds to check him out.

At least he’s clothed, the black shirt stretching over his broad shoulders. As he moves to face me, the muscles beneath stretch it farther, and I can’t help but think of the tattoo adorning his back, beckoning to me to lift up his shirt and touch it.

“What? Can’t your roommate check in with you to make sure you’re still alive?”

I stare at him. “I’m not suicidal.”

His eyes sparkle with something I can’t read. “Good. You didn’t strike me as the weak type either. I’m glad I got one thing right.”

The compliment is indistinguishable, and I have absolutely no idea what to make of it. “It took you five days to come looking. I can’t imagine how long it’d take you to arrange a search party. If I were suicidal, I’d be long dead and you’d have found me hanging from the ceiling.”

I don’t know why I just said that, but it’s definitely too late to take it all back.

“So uncreative.” His lips twitch. “In that case, I’ll make sure to check up on you more often.” His gaze sweeps over the floor and remains stuck on the info box in the corner. “Still haven’t unboxed your manual yet?”

“No time.”

“Interesting.” He turns back to me, his dark eyes piercing right through me. “You’re a rebel.”

I frown. WTF? Is he psychoanalyzing me? He can’t be. I open my mouth but before I can come up with a reply, he says, “Don’t worry. I find your neuroses entertaining.”

I take a deep breath, then another. “You can stop psychoanalyzing me, Dr. Phil. I have no intention of getting to know you, so I’m not going to return the favor and ask anything about you. There’s no point in the game you’re playing.”

“Some people spend a lifetime in here, and they might get bored.” He points his thumb at himself. “Like me.”

“Luckily, people don’t have to.” I shrug. “I don’t know about you, but I have no plans for staying longer than my allotted time.”

“Me neither, but you never know. What if we’re incurable, according to them?” I can sense a change in subject as he begins to inspect the pin board I’ve hung up on the wall.

He scans the dozen photos—little Polaroid snapshots I took over the years. “Nice collection you have here. I gather this is him, the player.”

“He’s not a player.” I frown, annoyed with his words and by his curiosity. “That’s my boyfriend we’re talking about.”

“He still looks like a player, if you ask me.”

“You don’t know him,” I snap.

“You’re right. I don’t know him. Half of my friends are players, and I know one when I see one.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” My voice comes out sharp. I’m almost ready to grab a hold of his arm and drag him the hell out of my room before he makes me say something I might come to regret. Luckily, he turns around and puts some distance between himself and the pin board.

“How long have you two been together?” He crosses his arms over his chest and regards me with a hint of amusement in his eyes. It’s so condescending, I’m fighting hard not to kick his arrogant ass right out of my bedroom.

“Long enough to know that he loves me and that you’re being a pain in the ass.”

He cocks his head to me. “Snarky.”

“Stop communicating your conclusions drawn from bad judgment.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and force myself to hold it before I release it. “You’re really starting to piss me off. I’m reaching the maximum point of pisstivity.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Kade says.

My face grows hot as he turns back to my pin board and doesn’t just inspect one of the photos.

No, he’s actually removing it from the pin board to look at it.

It’s a snapshot of my sister and me, taken not too long ago when my life wasn’t the mess it currently is.

“Your best friend, I assume?” Kade says with a playful smile and a little too much enthusiasm.

I don’t know why, but his words make my heart slam in my chest. I can’t help the pang of jealousy shooting through me. It makes no sense whatsoever.

“That’s my sister.”

“She’s hot.”

Of course he had to say that. She is. She damn is. But he doesn’t need to acknowledge it.

“And taken,” I answer before his dirty mind can take off in a specific direction. “She’s getting married in two months.”

“Pity. The male population will lose another beautiful woman. Do you happen to have another sister, by any chance?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Is there a reason why you’re here, except to annoy the hell out of me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, there is.” He leans against my tiny desk, taking his sweet time with a reply. “I need your opinion.”

I narrow my eyes at him because I don’t trust him one bit. “On what?”

“On women, obviously.” He regards me with that unnerving grin of his. “This might take a while. You might want to take a seat.”

Making myself comfortable around him is the last thing I want to do. I cross my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you get to the point? I haven’t got all day.”

“Right. Since you’re so busy, I’ll make sure to call your assistant to set up an appointment next time.”

That sarcasm of his is driving me insane. He’s lucky I’m not the argumentative type.

“Kade.” My tone carries a warning, which he doesn’t seem to want to register.

He motions to my bed. “Really, I might need some time. Come on. It’s just a conversation; I’m not going to bite. I want to hear your opinion.”

He grabs my hand, his long fingers encircling mine. I flinch a little at the way his skin feels against mine—warm, intimate, so very good. His expression remains unfazed, and I realize my strange reaction to him is not reciprocated.

His hand pulls gently, forcing me to sit.

“Okay.” I do as requested, but only because I really need him to stop touching me.

Without waiting for my invitation, he sits down next to me, his thigh brushing mine. My body stiffens.

He’s too close—so close I can smell the manly blend of his aftershave.

My skin prickles. My lungs fight against the sudden lack of oxygen. I can feel him with every fiber of my body. My skin is tingling, catching fire under his burning gaze. My shallow breathing comes so loud, I’m sure he can hear it.

“Okay, so don’t laugh,” he starts, his magnetic eyes piercing through me. “With so much time on my hands, I feel like I have to get productive before I go crazy. I’ve been thinking about writing a book about sex experiences. Not just mine, but in general. Do you think people would be interested in reading it?”

His casual tone helps me relax a little. I brush a hand over my skirt before I reply.

“I don’t know,” I say earnestly. “Why do you think I might know what other people want to read?”

“I just thought you could answer the question, considering that you read books.”

A laugh escapes my throat. His reasoning makes no sense whatsoever. “Me? I’m not interested in porn. Because that’s exactly what you would write, right?”

If he caught the subtle insult, he doesn’t react to it.

“No. More along the lines of a sex-help book. You know, share a little of my wisdom, spice up personal lives, and help people have fuller experiences.”

“Obviously, you’re talking about your perception,” I say, and add at his confused expression. “I mean, how do you even know if you’re good in bed and that your girlfriends feel the same way?”

His eyes narrow and the air between us cools down a few degrees. “Because I am.”

A hot blush shoots up my neck and spreads to my cheeks.

I should so shut up right now. And yet I just can’t keep my mouth closed.

“Yeah, but how do you know they’re not faking it?”

“I could show you, and then you could communicate your opinion on the matter,” Kade says coolly.

My heart stops. Literally stops, only to jolt back into action faster than before. Of course he would suggest something like this.

He’s a sex addict, Vicky. What did you expect?

He catches my expression and his lips break out in a gorgeous smile. “I’m joking. I didn’t mean it in a literal way.”

That stings a little bit, which is irrational given that I don’t want him to want to sleep with me.

“Why don’t you ask another sex addict?” I ask. “Surely there’s someone better suited than me to answer the question.”

He shakes his head slowly. “There isn’t, or I wouldn’t be asking you. Haven’t you noticed that most sex addicts in this place are male? And the few female ones are out of my preferred age range.”

I shake my head. “Still, why me?”

“As I said, you’re the literary kind. I also really want my first reader to be…well, you know when you said you were a rebel?”

“Actually, you said that.”

He nods his head. “I need someone like that. I need someone who’s brutally honest and can communicate it as it is. That’s you. The snarky one. Did you know your name Vicky comes from Viking?”

I want to point out that I’m anything but snarky and my name has nothing to do with Vikings, but I just bite my tongue lest I confirm his assumption that I might be a bit snarky.

“Okay.” I shift in my seat. “Before I answer, let me get something off my chest. I have two concerns. First, I’m not sure you ought to write a book when you haven’t finished therapy yet. You getting treated for your sex addiction while trying to help others with their sex life, isn’t that a bit of a paradox?”

“Possibly. I definitely see your point.” He nods his head again, his eyes scanning my face. “So, will you read it?”

I groan. “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?”

His lips curve upwards. “I can’t guarantee it, but chances are I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Alright. I’ll do it. But only under one condition.” I hold up one finger. “Stop analyzing me. I’m already being scrutinized by my therapist during my sessions. I don’t need you to continue her work during my spare time as well.”

“I’m just pointing out positive qualities as I go along. Consider them compliments.” His arms wrap around me, gently squeezing me to his chest. His sudden hug catches me off-guard, and for a second I forget to breathe.

I know he’s only being friendly, but in the privacy of my bedroom, it feels like so much more than that.

Releasing me, he catches my glance, completely oblivious to my confusion. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

I shrug, way too aware of his presence. “I don’t mind.”

Under his glance, I feel hot.

Aroused.

Naked.

He’s sitting so close to me, I can feel the warmth of his body seeping into my skin, making me wonder what it’d feel like if I pressed my lips against his.

I swallow.

You can’t be attracted to him.

“If you’re going to write a book while you’re here, how are you going to do it without a computer?” I ask.

“There are three computers in the entertainment room,” Kade says.

My heartbeat picks up in speed. “There’s an entertainment room?”

And computers?

“Yeah.” He stares at me, amused. “It’s hard to miss it when you’re in group therapy right next to it.” His grin widens. “Oh, wait. You haven’t attended group therapy yet, right? I haven’t seen you.”

I ignore his remark as my mind keeps circling around the most important thing. “Do they have WiFi?” I ask breathlessly.

“No. No Internet, if that’s what you were hoping for. You’re not supposed to have any contact with the outside world.”

The air swooshes right out of my lungs in a sigh of defeat. “The whole rehab thing sucks. No phones, no Internet. We’re basically cut off from civilization. Can they even do that? I mean, even prisons have Internet. I feel like I’m trapped in the Middle Ages…” My voice trails off.

“Yeah, but with better food and medical care,” Kade says.

I can’t help the feeling that he’s not really taking me seriously.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “I’m so sick of being here. There’s nothing to do. There aren’t even good books in the library.”

“Is that where you’ve been hiding from me?”

His question sounds like a statement.

His remark is spot on, and definitely the kind of conversation I want him to drop. Ignoring his rhetorical question, I turn away.

“Look.” He lets out a long breath. “Now, I don’t do this for everyone, but I think I have what you need.”

I turn back to him. “What do you mean?”

His hand squeezes inside his pocket. My eyes widen as he pulls out a tiny phone. “You can use it to get online.”

“You have a phone?” I stare at him, almost choking on my words.

“As you can see, I do.”

Wow.

This is my chance. Who would have thought the insufferable guy would turn out to be my lifesaver?

“How?” I mumble.

He flashes me a grin. “Let’s say I’m well connected, and I know where to hide stuff.” His hand points to his jeans and he raises his brows meaningfully.

I’m pretty sure he’s not talking about his jeans.

“Oh, my God. You did not hide it in your underwear!”

“I did, and I had to flirt with the security guard to make sure she wouldn’t pat me down,” he says smugly.

“Of course, you would.” I stare at the phone, fighting the urge to snatch it out of his hands, lock myself in the bathroom, and see what Bruce has been up to. “What else did you hide?” I ask, even though I’m not interested.

“Well, do you want to borrow it or not?” Kade asks, and in that moment I sort of want to hug him.

“Yes,” I croak.

“You can have it for one hour.” He drops the phone on my bed. As I reach for it, he puts his hand over mine. “In exchange for having dinner with me.”

“You are asking me out again?” I stare up at him, my breath catching. “Seriously?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not a date.”

“What do you call it then?”

“Two friends eating?” He winks.

“I’m not sure we’re allowed to do that, Kade. It would look like two roommates on a date.”

“What? We’re not allowed to eat?” He laughs.

“What if I don’t want to go?”

“Then you can’t have my phone,” Kade says coolly.

I shake my head. “You play dirty.”

“I play fair.”

I sigh, unsure how to proceed next. My gaze turns back to the phone again. I want it so badly, I’ve no idea why I’m making such a big deal out of having dinner with the guy. Like he says, it’s just food. “It’s just dinner, right? Because I told you I have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t see him anywhere here.”

“I’m not a cheater.” I can feel my hesitation dissolving into thin air and flying right out of the window.

“I never thought you were.” He heaves a long, exasperated sigh. “Look, Vicky, I don’t know you, but I just put myself out on a limb for you to make you feel better. I need to know that you’re not going to screw me over. So, do you want the phone or not? If not, just forget I even offered.”

I eye him for a moment, unsure whether I can really trust him not to screw me over. Eventually, I let out the breath I didn’t even know I had been holding. “Okay, I’m going for it. And—” I catch his glance and reward him with a smile, “—I’m not going to betray your trust. Just make sure you don’t betray mine.”

“We’re partners in crime.” He hands me the phone. “Nobody but you can know about it. Understood? We can’t afford to lose it.”

We.

A rock forms in the pit of my stomach at the word. When did things take this particular turn? I mean, one moment I could barely stand the guy and the next we’re plotting and breaking rules together.

I nod, and for a moment we just stare at each other in silent agreement. His expression is softer now, fearful even. I can’t blame him. Being in rehab, cut off from the world, a phone is that one thing that can save lives. It sure does mine. Every day that passes, I feel like I’m dying without it. It’s not just about Bruce. I also miss my family.

I need to be in touch with the outside world to stop feeling as though I’m slowly losing my mind.

“Being discreet about it goes without saying,” I say. “In fact, I’ve absolutely no intention of leaving this room while using it.”

“Good.” He gestures at the phone and gets up. “It’s unlocked. And so you know, I cleaned it.”

I look up only to see he’s almost at the door, his hand on the handle.

“Kade?”

“Yeah, Stalker?”

“Thank you.”

He shoots me a devilish grin that’s so handsome I almost forget what I’m about to do. “Don’t thank me yet, Viking. You still owe me dinner.” He presses the handle, calling over his shoulder, “By the way, don’t let the photos bother you.”

“What photos?” I ask, but he’s already gone, the door closing behind him.

Sighing, I let myself sink against the pillows as anticipation courses through me. I can feel it coursing through my body from my feet to my fingertips. It’s thick and prickling like a warm spring fountain. One hour…it’s not a lot, but those sixty minutes will grant me enough time to check up on all the people who matter to me.

I’m giddy with excitement at the prospect of finding out what Bruce is doing.

If he’s replied to my emails.

Maybe he’s even talked to his mother and changed her mind about us.

My fingers swipe over the screen a couple times until a text conversation pops up. It’s from last year, but its content is not what’s causing my breath to catch in my throat.

My eyes remain glued to a photo.

It’s a picture of a dick.

It’s huge and thick. And so very familiar.

Oh, wait, is that Kade’s cock?

I stare at the pic, ignoring the short conversation with a woman, and then scroll down to another picture. This one is of her breasts pushed up so high I wouldn’t be surprised to find she could rest her chin on them.

“Gross,” I mutter and scroll back to his dick.

This is like a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t be staring, and yet you can’t peel your gaze away from it.

The familiar heat from before returns, pooling between my legs, making me wonder how it would feel inside me.