Page 80 of Cursing My Cheating Husband

I rapid-fire started skipping myself through randomly chosen memories, and it was one moment of strength and kindness after another. Focused and working at the homeless shelter. Speaking up in a meeting to defend a female co-worker who was being talked over. Offering support to a struggling new hire. Helping a frail old man with his bags at the grocery store!

Okay, what about when he was alone? Maybe that’s when the dark side still came out to play. I grabbed something from a late night. Maddox laying down in the basement, trying to get to sleep. But sleep wasn’t coming, because all of his thoughts were of me. How much he loved me, how much he yearned for me to forgive him, how much he knew he didn’t deserve it but still couldn’t stop himself from hoping for it. His determination not to interfere with what I needed, no matter how much he wished to.

It struck me there was one thing I’d conspicuously avoided on this angry mad dash through his mind: any memories that had me actually in them.

So I ran through a line of those, times he’d been in my presence as he served dinner, or brought me my morning tea, or folded laundry in the living room while I read, or even while he was listening to me fuck other men down the hall.

The love burning in him in all these moments was powerful. He was aching for me, in a way that consumed him completely. In every memory with me, I felt his pull toward me like gravity, that desperate need to be close enough to touch, to protect. His body remembered mine with a passion that went beyond sexual… the curve of my shoulder, the sound of my voice, the particular way I moved through a room. He wanted to wrap himself around me and shield me from everything, including himself. It was tender and fierce and so overwhelming it felt like drowning.

Fuck. This was real. Somehow, under my nose, Maddox had completely transformed.

I had seen enough. I broke the link and slammed back into my own body.

I stood above Maddox, as he gazed up at me with the most loving, pleading expression. I had never seen him look so vulnerable or so open. His hot, desperate hunger for whatever small piece of me I might grant him was no longer hidden.

“Oh, Maddox,” I said, surprising myself when I heard the softness in my voice.

“Did that help?” he asked hopefully. “Do you feel any better?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He opened his mouth to reply.

“So let’s not talk.” Magic flared from my hands, lifting him to his feet as I closed the distance between us, my lips finding his.

CHAPTER 34

CALLIE

Once again, Maddox lifted me into his arms, the movement so smooth and powerful.

This was something Maddox had done many times with me before, but now it felt different. Different even from the time in Nightshade Cove in the spring. His arms cradled me with a tenderness that was new. The protective quality of it made my pulse quicken.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his dazzling eyes locked on me, raw and exposed and filled with need.

His mouth found mine with a hunger that had been building for most of the year. The kiss was worshipful and claiming. His lips moved against mine in slow, deep strokes, like he was memorizing every detail. I kissed him back just as fiercely, as his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling us closer. Warmth flooded through me as his grip tightened on my body, like he was afraid I might vanish if he let go.

He started toward the bedroom, but I had to interject.

“The glass. Your legs are bleeding,” I said against his mouth.

“I know.” He kept walking toward the bedroom. “Heal me on the way.”

He had no idea I’d been the worst student in every healing magic class I’d ever been in. “That kind of magic is so precise. I’ve never been any good at⁠—”

“I believe in you.”

I summoned the words and whispered the incantation. The magic flowed through my body into his, seeking the wounds on his legs. As he carried me down the hall, his cuts closed and the blood vanished. The spell completed just as we reached the bed.

He set me down gently. For a moment we just stood there, inches apart, the air between us crackling with anticipation.

My fingers found the buttons of his shirt. I worked them slowly, one by one, revealing the defined lines of his chest. I spread my fingers across his pecs, feeling his heart pounding beneath my touch. The chest hair I’d admired that night in the rain was thicker, dark and soft beneath my palms. Gods, I had missed this.

He shrugged out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then reached for the hem of my white sundress. I was wearing nothing underneath. His fingers brushed my thighs as he gathered the fabric, drawing it up with tender slowness. His eyes roamed my body with adoration as he pulled the dress over my head.

“God, Callie,” he breathed. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. He stood before me in just his boxer briefs for a heartbeat, the fabric straining against his hard cock, before he stripped those off as well.

I froze for a moment, just looking at him. All of him. It had been so long since I’d seen him like this—completely bare, completely mine. The breadth of his shoulders, the taper of his waist, the hard lines of muscle that led down to where he was thick and ready for me. He was beautiful. Devastatingly so. And the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, sent heat racing through my veins.