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“So what do I do?” I ask, once my word processor is open.
“Close your eyes,” he says, his voice intense, with a growl somewhere behind it, as though he’s holding himself back as much as I am.
No, no, no.
I scream the words in my mind.
He’s not holding himself back.
I need to focus.
“Okay.”
I let my eyes fall closed, the setting orange sunlight lighting up my eyelids.
“And now focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly. Make the breaths as long as you can.”
“Like meditation?” I ask.
“Yeah, exactly.”
It’s difficult not to think of the fact he’s staring at me, as everything becomes more noticeable, as I feel my chest rising and falling and the fabric of my dress shifting against my breasts. My nipples pebble and I wonder if he can see them, poking through my bra, if he’s excited or disgusted.
“Focus, Maddie,” he snarls.
“How do you know I’m not?” I shoot back, which is somehow easier with my eyes closed.
Probably because I don’t have to stare into the fierce intensity of his eyes. I don’t have to face the unflinching attention there.
“I just know. Now, do as you’re told. Focus.”
Do as you’re told.
My clit sizzles and my lips feel enflamed, swollen like there’s a whole world of pleasure locked away in my sex trying to break free.
“Breathe in,” he growls.
I do as he says, trying to make the breath last, trying to sink into this moment and this moment alone.
“And out.”
Again, I follow his instructions.
We go on like this until, miraculously, my thoughts start to grow quieter. It’s not like all fantasies of Madden and his muscular body and his stern expression just vanish, but after a while, it becomes easier to think about just my breathing.
“Now open your eyes,” he says gruffly. “And write.”
I blink my eyes open, feeling like I’m rising from a long sleep.
“Write what?” I murmur.
“No,” he snaps, some trembling force in his voice. “Just write. That’s it. Empty your mind and write. Now, Maddie. Now.”
The unhinged note in his voice prompts my fingers into action. They begin to skim over the keys, tapping furiously, so fast I don’t even think about what I’m writing.
I don’t even know what I’m writing until my eyes start to skim over the words.
She always knew she would be alone. She always knew nobody would ever want her, perhaps because there was some defect in her: a defect of appearance, of personality, of both, of her soul. Maybe she was broken. Maybe she was ugly. Maybe she was fat. But she had come to terms with all this before she met him…
I stop, sucking in a jagged breath, leaning away from the laptop.
And then suddenly I’m on my feet, walking over to the balcony railing as my breathing grows frantic, expanding my chest. I grip the railing firmly and look down over the city, shame coloring my cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” I breathe raggedly. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Sometimes this exercise can reveal some demons. I should’ve warned you. But Maddie, you need to tell me something. And you need to fucking tell me now.”
I turn at the sharp aggression in his voice, shocked by his tone, to find that he’s turned the laptop and his eyes are flitting over my words.
“You don’t feel this way about yourself, do you? You don’t think you’re broken, ugly, fat. Tell me you don’t fucking think that.”
Why the heck is he so angry?
I wave a hand down at myself, at my body, as a bitter laugh escapes me. “What do you think? Look at me.”
He leaps to his feet and stalks across the balcony, stopping just shy of me… and then he closes the distance, pushing me up against the railing, gripping it so I’m trapped by his body and his arms, surrounded on all sides by unyielding muscle.
“You are not fat,” he growls. “Your body is curvy and voluptuous. Your body is a fucking bounty. Your body drives me wild. It makes me want to touch every inch of you, to tease and stroke until…”
He trails off with a trembling deep laugh, shaking his head as though he’s just realized what he was saying, the same way I didn’t realize what I was typing.
“Fuck it,” he growls, leaning so close to me.
I just about have time to think oh my God is he going to kiss me?
And then his lips are against mine, crushing possessively, his tongue stroking against the seam of my lips as I struggle to believe this is really happening.
Chapter Fourteen
Madden
I didn’t plan on kissing her, but when I felt the warmth of her lips I couldn’t remember why I was trying to hold myself back.
Her mouth is shy, moving slowly in time with mine.
But then I slip my tongue against hers, the tips sizzling, close together, and she makes this adorable whimpering noise. Stifled through the kiss, she moans again, as her instincts take over and her tongue starts to move in time with mine.
