Page 55 of Save Me

Maddox stiffens, then his lips are on my neck, kissing and sucking and sending shivers down my spine. He nuzzles his way up the side of my neck and laps at my ear. He does it over and over, on all sides, almost like he’s examining me.

“Maddox,” I gasp, still running my hands up and down his back. His strong back, where I can feel the muscles flexed from holding me in place.

“Micah.” He drags out the last part of my name with a slight mocking tone, and my knees buckle. Maddox holds me upright with ease. He doesn’t seem drunk. At least, not that drunk.

But semi-drunk is still drunk. I pull my hands from around Maddox’s back and try to shove them between us. It’s like trying to shove against a rock wall, albeit a warm, soft wall. Fudge, I didn’t think I was weak, but up against Maddox? My arms may as well be wet tissues.

Maddox just buries his nose deeper in my neck, pulling in a breath, and I feel my resolve weakening. I’m not doing anything to him. If anything, he’s doing it to me. So we’re okay. This is okay.

Maddox’s hard-on is pressing into my lower stomach, and it sends a thrill through my entire body. Maddox is hard. For me. I shiver, my pelvis brushing against him and making my entire body light up.

“Micah.” This time, there’s something in Maddox’s voice, a husky sort of desperation or frustration.

“Yeah?” I can barely get the word out; my throat is tight. I want this. I want everything. I want more. But not while he’s drunk.

And for an agonizing moment, there’s nothing but charged silence between us, and I think Maddox is going to ask me something.

Then, Maddox pulls away, ripping his hands through his hair, muttering, “What am I doing?”

I feel the loss like I stepped away from a fire, the space where Maddox isn’t touching me instantly cold.

“Wait.” I can’t help it. I step into Maddox, and when he turns back to me, his eyes are glassy, and he stumbles a bit.

I stop short.

“I…”

And then, he’s gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I fucked that up. I royally fucked that up.

I think the steps are tilting because I stumble into the wall going up them. I barely feel it. All I can feel is Micah. His lips, his body, his all-consuming presence that sucks the air out of the room. He’s addicting. Intoxicating.

That fills my stomach with dread because this is how Arthur felt at first. And now I feel Arthur’s hands caressing my body. The warmth of us laughing together. The pressure of his fingers around my neck. The confusion mixed with pain.

I think I’m going to get sick.

We get upstairs, and I think it’s Micah who’s touching me. Helping me stand. I have to get him off of me. I can’t let him see me get sick.

“I’ll be okay,” I mumble, pushing him away when we reach the bathroom.

Micah’s hands are so sticky, they don’t want to let go. Touching, hot, soft. Soft and strong, I want them on more of me.

No!

With herculean strength, I rip myself away and shut the bathroom door. I stumble to the bathroom, immediately splashing cold water on my face. The shock pulls me out of the swirling a bit.

From outside the door, he asks, “Mads? You okay?”

I drop my head onto my hands on the sink. He sounds so concerned. So genuine. I hate myself because in this moment, I want to believe that he is. But I can’t. I can’t. He’d win, and I’d lose yet again, only this time I get the weirdest feeling that it would be much, much worse. That this time, when I lie on the linoleum struggling to breathe, I won’t leave. That I’ll stay just to hear Micah’s laugh, just to see that look he gave me earlier, like I hung the moon and the stars. Even if it was fake, I want to see it again.

“I’m okay,” I say. I need Micah to go away. The longer he’s out there, the more I’m convincing myself that if I just open the door, he’ll give me that look again. Like he cares.

The spinning is back, and I plop onto the floor. My spot on bathroom floors is reserved for life, it seems.

“Do you need help?” There’s a note of panic in Micah’s voice.