“Special medicine, just for me,” she’d say. “Adam, you don’t touch this, okay? It will make you sick. It’s just for me.”

And then she’d found a way to get more—at the time I’d been too young to realize. She’d refilled that prescription at the drugstore, over and over again, claiming it was for her sick aunt. And when there were no more refills and no more bottles to steal, she’d started hanging out with the rough kids in the neighborhood. She warned me not to come near her when she was with them. She’d flirt and laugh and they’d hand her packets of stuff. She’d hide those, too.

She’d take the pills after Mom hit her. They’d scream and yell at each other and I’d hide in my room and cry—too terrified to go out and defend her—I was little, after all, and she was a teen. But Mom would hit her and she’d come to our room, take the pills and sob into her pillow while I pretended to be asleep.

I buried my head in my hands, trying to dam the pain. Holy shit.

It was happening all over again.

With a steely determination, I returned to her bag and completely ransacked it. There were two more syringes—these prefilled and unused.
The pieces certainly were starting to fit. She’d pulled away because she’d known about my own issues with addiction. She’d fixated on Sabrina’s story because of the similarities to her own. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell me for fear of how I’d react.

Was I angry? Fuck yes, I was. But I was also in problem-solving mode. Hours later, before I lay down beside her, I sent out three different inquiries about rehab by e-mail. In the morning, we’d sit down. We’d figure this out. She’d stay here and I’d convince her that this was the way to go, even if it meant staging that intervention that Alex had jokingly talked about weeks ago.

Did Heath know about this? I determined to talk to him, too. I glanced up at the clock, after eleven. Too late to call. I’d talk to him first thing.

Overcoming this would be hard. Ultimately, it would be her fight, her struggle. But I would get her the best help possible. I’d support her afterward, too. I’d gone through the twelve steps myself, after I’d realized my work addiction. I’d done the program by myself, but I knew Emilia would need help. And I’d be there for her.

I lay down beside her and gathered her against me, still fully clothed myself, but so exhausted I could hardly think anymore. I drifted off to the sound of her peaceful breathing.

I woke up hours later to the feel of her mouth and hands on my bare chest. Lying on my back, I kept my eyes closed and savored the sensations. It wasn’t just a pleasant dream, thank God. Emilia had unbuttoned my shirt and was kissing me all over. And I was hard as a rock and aching with it.

I didn’t move, curious as to where this was going. I’d wanted her again since the last time. And this was looking promising. One of her hands drifted down over my belly to cup my hard cock. She fondled me through my jeans and I let out an involuntary groan.

She didn’t stop touching me, but her head came up. “Darn. I wanted to give you your own sleepgasm.”

I cracked my eyes open. It was early morning. The sky was still a pale gray and I could just see her in the predawn light. She still looked so alien to me with that pink-and-purple-striped white hair of hers. I resisted the urge to reach over and grab her, pull her on top of me. I wanted inside her so badly I was nearly vibrating with it.

“Don’t mind me,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’ll just pretend I’m sleeping and you can go about your business.” And hopefully that business involved her climbing on top of me and riding me like a cowgirl.

She unbuttoned and carefully unzipped my jeans, tugging on them. “Why’d you fall asleep with your clothes on, silly?”

I lifted up and she pulled the jeans off me. “I can’t answer that. I’m asleep, remember?”

“Oh, yes. It’s too bad you’ll miss this, then.” She reached inside my underwear and pulled out my stiff cock, her hand traveling up it delicately. She pinched the head and I groaned again and in seconds her hand was replaced by her hot, wet mouth.

“Fuck,” I rasped as her lips closed around me. Her tongue caressed the most sensitive parts of my shaft. My eyes squeezed shut and all I could do was feel. I had to resist the urge to grab her head and control her movements. I rarely got a blowjob these days and it was understandable that it wasn’t her favorite thing to do, given her history. Every one was a gift, as I saw it. I’d never expected them from her. In the past a man had forced himself on her that way and just the fact that she volunteered to give me one at all told me a lot about her level of trust.