“I know,” he replies, following after me. “Why do you think I was so worried?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer him, he simply requests me to stand in front of the tiled wall next to the freestanding shower. “Although I now feel a little guilty about what Robert went through.” He grabs at his crotch, returning my smile. “He had a reason for his boner. Do you remember the dress you wore to the homecoming dance?”
I shake my head, truly forgetful.
Maddox doesn’t seem as absentminded as me. “The midsection was cut out in a crisscross design. If you squinted your eyes the right way, you could almost pretend you were wearing a bikini top.” He moves my hair to one side of my neck before tilting my chin, so the bruise my uncle’s goon inflicted when he grabbed ahold of me is front and center. “It didn’t seem like your style. It was nice and all, just—”
“More something Ophelia would have worn?”
He snaps my profile two times before he lowers his iPhone from his face, so I can’t miss the lift of his chin. “Do you miss her?”
Ophelia died in a traffic accident over four years ago. I want to say her death was the commencement of my uncle’s downfall, but that would be a lie. Dying was the only way Ophelia was guaranteed any peace, so although I do miss her, I believe she’s better off where she is.
“You don’t have to explain your motives to me, Demi,” Maddox assures when my quiet causes an awkward stretch of silence to extend between us. “Nobody can judge your life because they’ve never walked a day in your shoes.”
The same blue eyes that peered down at me fourteen years ago watch me now, but there’s just not an ounce of green to them, freeing me from the worry I’m about to make a fool of myself.
The scent of the homemade hollandaise sauce Maddox burned to the bottom of the pan an hour ago fans my lips when I balance on my tippy toes and plant my mouth on his. He doesn’t weave his fingers through my hair like I’m hoping, nor does he band his arms around my back to draw me closer, he merely murmurs a prayer against my lips loud enough for me to hear. “Please, God, forgive me for what I’m about to do.”
I assume he’s begging for forgiveness because he’s about to reject me. I’ve never been happier to be wrong in my life. He doesn’t pull back like he begs himself to do two times. He kisses me—once. It’s a frugal yet carnal embrace that has me craving so much more.
“Don’t. Fuck. I can’t,” Maddox murmurs against my mouth when I do the movement I wanted his fingers to do twenty seconds ago. I weave them through his reddish-blond locks before tilting my mouth so we’re better aligned. “You’re hurt and vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He peppers my lips, jaw, and neck with kisses with each word he speaks. He even adds a little nibble to his longer sentence. “Caidyn will fucking kill me if he walks in on us now.”
“Then maybe you should lock the door?”
Maddox shakes his head while slamming shut his bathroom door and fixing the lock into place.
“Stop me. Tell me to stop,” he begs when he returns to my side of the bathroom.
He doesn’t stand as close as he was when I kissed him. There’s a massive barrier between us, a barrier that ensures I’ll never concede to his demand. He’s hard, and the button on his sleeping pants doesn’t look capable of containing his erection for much longer.
“No.”
He kisses my non-bruised cheek, my jaw, then one side of my mouth. “No, you want me to stop? Or no, don’t stop?”
“Don’t stop.”
When he pulls back to make sure he heard me correctly, I slant my head to the side so the bruised half of my face is shadowed by the unflattering light above our head.
“Don’t hide from me, Demi.” His voice is a whisper but as powerful as a roar. “Don’teverfucking hide from me.”
After kissing the welt on my right cheek and the cut a bucket-load of tears washed out last night, he returns my kiss. Gently, ever so gently, he tastes my lips, glides them along his, and draws in the shuddering breaths his awe-inspiring kiss instigates.
It’s an all-encompassing embrace that sees me kissing him back as if our lives aren’t precariously dangling in the breeze. Tongues, lips, teeth, they all get in on the act. Even my nipples can’t be held back from the festivities. They bud against Maddox’s chest, encouraging him to cup my thighs and guide my legs around his waist.
Our kiss goes on and on and on, and the entire time, Maddox keeps one hand on my ass and the other lodged halfway between my nape and the now-drenched roots of my hair.
I thought he would have pulled out his cock by now, pushed aside my panties, and driven home. He hasn’t even cupped my breasts, which are begging for his attention. He merely kisses me like this is enough. Like his every desire is being satisfied.
“Not yet,” he forces out with a groan when my needs get the better of me. After grinding his thick cock into the hand I lowered to his crotch, assuring me he’s as into this as me, he says, “I’ve been dreaming about kissing you for years. I’m nowhere near done with this stage yet.”
Years?
I shudder through the thrill his confession awarded my body, then pretend as if I didn’t. “We can kiss while doing other things. I’m good at multitasking.”
I feel Maddox’s smile more than I see it. “You might be skilled in multitasking, but I most certainly am not.” His throaty voice does naughty things to my panties. “Well, I am, just not when I want to be greedy.”
“Greedy?” I ask, a little lost.
“I’ve not yet found a way to kiss…” He swipes his tongue across my lips. “Eat…” He feels the mess he made of my panties when the hand gripping my neck lowers to the soaked-through material. “And fuck at the same time.”
