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the sink.

      Our house wasn’t clean. It wasn’t organized. But we tried to keep it somewhat tidy. We each took turns washing the dishes and doing the laundry. The floors weren’t mopped and the bathroom was often neglected, but we managed. We had clean dishes to eat from and fresh clothes to wear. It was all we needed.

      During the week while the boys were at school, I managed a hardware store, and at night I occasionally picked up bartending shifts for the extra money. It provided enough to pay the bills, but bigger things weighed on me—paying for college, buying cell phones, and cars for the guys. I had no idea how any of that would be possible.

      I tried to push those thoughts from my mind as I drove to my sex addicts meeting. I would deal with one problem at a time. It was all I could do.

      When I arrived, the chairs were already filling up in a semicircle around McKenna. I grabbed a paper cup of weak coffee and sat down just as she was getting started. Her eyes flashed to mine and a tiny smile lifted her mouth. She hadn’t thought I would show up, and her relief was visible. I couldn’t help but give her my best panty-dropping grin and watched as her chest and neck flushed pink.

      McKenna’s eyes dropped down to the notes on her lap and she took a moment to steady herself before beginning. ‘Sex addicts are very me-centric. Your addiction isn’t meant to serve anyone else. It’s a selfish pursuit. You get what you want, when you want it. And that’s why it can be so difficult to break. You’re not used to having to delay gratification. Today I want you to think about how you first became dependent on sex.’

      She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting around the faces in the group. I couldn’t help but notice she deliberately avoided looking my way. Apparently I rattled her and she needed her composure to continue the meeting.

      How did I become dependent on sex? I wasn’t sure I could pinpoint when it happened, but sure, I used sex to numb my pain and manage stress. Listening to McKenna, I was starting to believe that maybe it wasn’t totally normal.

      ‘Over time, people develop a tolerance for sex. They need more and more of it to feel okay, and they experience withdrawal if they can’t have it. Eventually, it can destroy your relationships—your marriage, your job. I know we’ve previously talked about being fired for looking at Internet porn at work, or marriages ending when a spouse discovered an affair. Your risky behaviors put you in danger for contracting a life-threatening STD. Or put you in debt, paying for strip clubs and prostitutes. None of these things lead to good outcomes. Can anyone share some of the techniques they’ve developed to work through their cravings?’

      Shit. She actually wanted people to share how they avoided sex? It would be more useful to share techniques on how I seduced girls from nightclubs, coffee shops, the grocery store, or how to fuck standing up in a tiny bathroom stall. Doggie style. It was really the only option.

      A timid girl directly across from me cleared her throat. ‘I count backward from ten and practice deep, calming breaths.’

      ‘That’s great, Mia. Anyone else?’ McKenna asked, looking straight at me this time.

      I wasn’t saying shit.

      Watching McKenna was hypnotic. After our last little exchange, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind, and seeing her in person, I completely got why. She was soft and pretty. Her voice was light, clear, and appealing. Listening to her and watching the way her mouth moved around her words penetrated my walls, reached deep inside me and went straight to my dick. I had no idea why she’d have such a profound effect on me—unless it was a simple case of wanting what I couldn’t have. I wanted to unbutton her white shirt, push it open, and rub my fingertips over her nipples until she sucked in a deep, shuddery breath. I wanted to see what kind of panties she wore and break down her walls, like she was doing to me.

      Holy shit. Maybe I did have a problem. I was sitting in a sex addicts meeting with a hard-on. I was pretty sure that couldn’t be filed under N for normal.

      But shit, I wasn’t like these people. Was I? The fucking jackass next to me was dressed in sweatpants with a hole in the crotch, and he’d just spent twenty minutes confessing about how he’d jacked off in the car to porn downloaded on his phone before coming into the meeting. I scooted my chair farther away from him and caught a glare from McKenna.

      McKenna continued providing prompts in the conversation and several more people opened up. By the time the hour was up, I knew far more about the people sitting around me than I wanted to.

      A few group members still lingered as I approached McKenna at the front of the room, where she was leaning against a table near the window. I wondered if she was going to chastise me for not talking again.

      ‘Still afraid to open up?’ she asked, peeking up at me through thick lashes.

      I wasn’t afraid, but I knew what she was trying to do. She wanted to goad me into talking.

      ‘I don’t like this sharing bullshit in the group. I’m not saying I won’t talk to you—I will. Me and you. Someplace else. Private.’

      She narrowed her eyes, searching mine. ‘You think you’re the first guy in this group to hit on me? Not by a long shot. I’m here to do a job, Knox. That’s all.’

      I chuckled. She thought I was asking her out? That was ridiculous; I didn’t take girls out.

      ‘Don’t judge me. You and your charmed life you lead—you don’t know anything about my life, sweetheart. And P.S. I’m here because I choose to be here.’

      ‘McKenna?’ a tall, lanky guy called out from the doorway. ‘Everything okay?’

      I looked his way, noting that I hadn’t seen him in the group before, yet he seemed pretty familiar with McKenna.

      ‘Brian? What are you doing here?’

      ‘I thought you might like a ride home. Is everything all right?’ His gaze moved between me and her, his expression radiating concern.

      McKenna swallowed and glanced at me before answering. ‘It’s fine.’ She nodded. ‘And I told you, I’m fine taking the bus.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      McKenna fixed her friend with an icy stare, sending her message loud and clear without words.

      ‘Okay,’ he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ‘I guess I’ll see you at home later.’

      ‘’Bye, Brian.’

      Brian nodded and left reluctantly, leaving McKenna and me alone once again.

      When she turned to face me again, I could see judgment written all over her pretty face. I was beneath her. She’d labeled me and stuck me in some damn box. Hell, I knew I wasn’t good enough for a girl like her, but I hadn’t expected for her to actually call me out on it.

      I fixed a sneer on my face. ‘Better go get home safe and sound, away from all us fuck-ups, McKenna.’ Then I turned for the door and strode away.

       Chapter Eight

       McKenna

      I could not have handled that worse. I hated the idea that I’d offended Knox; that was never my intention. Maybe he’d been serious about opening up one-on-one with me—perhaps it hadn’t been a pick-up line at all. And I’d overreacted. Horribly. A sour pit sank low in my stomach and settled there.

      I noticed a small leather-bound notebook resting against the desktop where Knox had been leaning. Crossing the room to retrieve the book, I wondered if there was a way to find him, to apologize and return his journal. I should have just waited to return it to him next Saturday, assuming he came back, but I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

      This group was supposed to be anonymous, but Knox gave his last name at the first meeting—Bauer. And his first

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