Page 6 of Unconditional


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My mind goes through its list of rationalizations it does every time a wicked thought floats through it. First, Maddie is not my daughter. She’s not. Not biologically; and while I was her legal guardian, I hadn’t legally adopted her. She calls me Cal. Not Dad, or Father or…Daddy.

Oh Goddammit. I look down when I feel a rush of blood head south.

Stay the fuck down.

Second, Maddie doesn’t see me as her father. Maybe her big brother. Or Superhero like she has me listed in her phone. But I’m not Dad.

Then what the hell are you? You feed her, clothe her, you have her listed as a dependent on your God damn health insurance. Don’t try and justify your perversion, Grayson.

I let my head fall back against the tile as the water runs down my chest, my abs and trickles down my dick that still isn’t completely soft again.

I’m going to motherfucking hell.

I’M PULLING ON MY SUEDE knee-high boots when I catch a glimpse of the dark, ominous sky. It looks like the heavens are ready to open up at any minute with the storm that they’ve been predicting for a week. The normal gray sky looks almost black and a shiver snakes down my spine as I think about my aversion for bad storms.

“It’s going to be fine, Mads.” My thoughts are interrupted by Cal leaning against the door jamb, and I let out a sigh of relief that he’s not in uniform today because that had the power to turn me into a quivering mess on sight. Not that the casual suit he’s wearing is making it easier. His light brown hair is wet, like he’s just gotten out of the shower, slightly disheveled but sporting its usual wave. A lock of his hair falls slightly over his eye and he pushes it back in that sexy way that all men are taught to in school or something. “But that’s another reason I don’t want you going out tonight. I can’t protect you when you’re God knows where.” He nods towards the window. Cal is classic overprotective and he worries whenever I go out; more than a few times I’ve caught one of his minions following me around.

I turn my head back towards the window and then back to him again. “You know I hate storms. Always have.” I swallow.

“I know. And you know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” He moves through my bedroom and stands right in front of me, entirely too much in my space. I smell the woody cologne he wears and the spearmint mouthwash he uses, and I suddenly find myself struggling to breathe. His hand reaches under my chin and raises it slightly higher to meet his gaze—brown eyes that I know better than I know my own. That I trust more than anyone. The warmth of his hand floods me, making me feel like I need to shed every layer of clothing so he can touch every inch of my bare skin. Particularly the wet flesh between my legs. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes?” I whisper, but it comes out more like a squeak. All the conviction has left my voice in response to the thumping in my sex.

I find myself staring at his mouth as one side raises in a sexy smirk. His lips part and his tongue slides across his bottom lip and I don’t even try to hide the groan. “Cal…” I breathe out.

He narrows his gaze slightly, his warm brown eyes, darker than usual and filled with something I can’t quite detect. “You want me, don’t you, Madeline?” He pushes a hand through my hair and cups my jaw. His hand firm but gentle as his thumb strokes my bottom lip.

I let out a sigh, and my legs almost give out but he grabs me to keep me upright. “I love when you use my full name.”

He leans forward, while I’m still in his arms. His breath tickles my lips. “Madeline.” I let out a whimper. “Maddie.” His lips bypass mine and trace kisses down the side of my face. “You’re exquisite. I can’t wait to get inside of you, baby.”

“Oh my God, me too.” I groan as I wrap a leg around him and begin to rub against him. Just as our lips are about to touch a crash stops us.

“MADDIE!”

I return to the here and now just as things were about to get good in my most recent fantasy. One that I’d conjured up in my mind while on the way to school this morning. I look up at the person who had the audacity to interrupt my thoughts, to see my best friend, Sasha Parker, who had just slammed her hand on the table, and is glaring at me with her signature irritated expression. “Are you even listening?”

I blink my eyes a few times and look around at the table of our friends, all of whom are staring at me after Sasha’s outburst. I shake my head. “No, sorry. What?” I sink my teeth into the apple I’d gotten and give her a bored look.

“Am I not entertaining enough?” She waves our friends off as if to say, mind your business, and they go back to their conversations.

“Not particularly, no. What do you want?” I want to know where things were going to go with me and Cal, and YOU had to interrupt. I bite my bottom lip so I don’t actually say those words aloud, as no one, and I do mean no one knows about my secret feelings for Cal. The last thing I need is more time with a shrink. Or worse, being forced to leave Cal altogether. I fight the tears in my eyes as I think about the terrifying feeling that I always had in the back of my mind that at any given moment someone would come and take me away from him.

It used to be so bad that I had nightmares about it for years. Nightmares that could only be quieted by Cal holding me in his arms, rocking me back and forth.

I dreamed of the night my mother died.

I dreamed that my father found me before he killed himself.

I dreamed that social services came for me while Cal was at work and I didn’t get to say goodbye.

Of course, this was all when I was younger, I’d long since grown out of that irrational fear after Cal had assured me hu

ndreds of times that no one could take me from him. I know that isn’t how he meant it, but I held onto those thoughts. Particularly while my hand was between my legs.

I’m his.

In some form, at least.

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