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“So there isn’t a problem,” he says with a deep rumbling of passion in his voice. “You want me. I want you.”
I swallow as my stomach knots, as I imagine what will happen when he finally tears my clothes off and brings that massive manhood of his to my sex. I remember how huge he felt when he pressed my palm against him, how he expanded at my touch.
And that look in his eyes – that possessive obsessed look…
Can I live up to it?
I close my eyes and give in to my desire to sink into him, rest my cheek against his chest and hold on tightly onto his back.
He swore on his parents. His dead parents.
He must mean it. He must really want me.
Heck.
Can I handle this being real? Can I be the woman my man needs?
“So, will you let me?” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head softly as he strokes his fingers along my shoulder, goosebumps rising all over my body. “Will you let me take care of you, Maddie? Will you let me support you? Because you need to focus on your work.”
I look up at the urgency in his tone, leaning back in his embrace as his solid arms support me.
“Did you read it?” I ask.
“Last night.” He nods. “That’s how I knew where to find you this morning too. The laptop had your calendar on it. I hope you don’t mind.”
“And what did you think? About my book?”
His eyes glimmer even more intensely than before at the mention of my book. “I thought it was exceptional. The way you write, your understanding of people, of their deepest emotions… I can see true promise in every single section. There are a few things I can help you with, but right now I just want you to finish it. I need to know what happens with the iron ring.”
My heart warms at his words, a soothing sensation traveling through me. The iron ring is one of the main plot points in my fantasy novel, and hearing Madden Mitchell – my perfect man – praise it causes goosebumps to prickle my skin.
“Really?” I murmur.
“Really,” he says firmly. “So let me help you. Let me support you. And let me help your friend. I want to do this, Maddie. I need you to do this. Because you belong to me. And I need to take care of you.”
I blink as tears rise to my eyes, distorting reality.
“You mean it. Don’t you? You really mean it.”
“I swore,” he snarls, leaning close, so close I can feel his warm breath on my skin. “Plus, I’d never lie to you. I can’t. We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. We’re going to have children together. So yes, my perfect beautiful writer, this is real, the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
I let out a sob, but Madden interrupts it with a kiss, both of us groaning through the tight press of our lips as melting pleasure burns between us.
He pulls away, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.
“You make me so goddamn crazy. I can’t let myself kiss you in public. Let me take you back to my place.”
Panic blares in me, a voice hissing you’re not good enough on an endless loop.
“What about our date?” I say, with a note of sassiness in my voice.
He laughs. “Isn’t it a little early?”
He’s right. It’s not even midday yet. But the thought of going back to his place and giving myself to him, right now… Heck, it just feels so abrupt, so sudden, and I want this to last longer.
This closeness, this warmth, I don’t want it to come to a crashing end when I can’t be the woman he needs in the bedroom.
Perhaps he reads some of this indecision because he kisses my cheek softly and pulls away again.
“But we could make a day of it. Walk Boxcar, grab some lunch, and then go for an early dinner this afternoon? How does that sound?”
I nod eagerly, my smile lighting up my whole face at the prospect of such a wonderful day.
“Yes, I’d like that. I’d really like that.”
Chapter Twenty
Madden
Maddie walks beside me as Boxcar runs like a madman around the dog park. She’s changed into jeans and a baggy shirt that gives me tempting hints of her voluptuous shape. My lips still burn with a phantom kiss, and my body roars at me to claim her right now, to bring my dick to that hole, oh God, that pink innocent tight hole…
But somehow I manage to fight the urge as she smiles up at me, sliding her gaze from Boxcar. She’s let her hair down, messy and tempting around her shoulders.
“He really goes crazy, doesn’t he?”
I smirk over at the little terror, at the way he darts from the path and runs through the tall grass, rolling around and then leaping to his feet. Suddenly he spots a bird and ducks his head, yapping happily as he sprints toward it.
