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I lean back and close my eyes as my heart beats even harder, a strange and unusual tingling surging up and down my body. My balls feel heavy, far heavier than they ever have before, my manhood pulsating as I repeat her name over and over in my mind.
Maddison, Maddison, Maddison.
I don’t understand how she’s done this to me. I don't understand this need, as though she’s cast some sort of goddamn spell on me. Everything is hot and burning and suddenly I need to find her, need to know who she is.
I study the letter, study the return address…
Hell, my feet shift around as though trying to prompt me to drive over there right now. She lives on the other side of the city, in one of the more rundown neighborhoods… but still, just the other side of the city, and when I reached my hand in, I chose her letter.
It’s like it was meant to be.
Standing, I pace up and down the room, my fists clenched at my sides as this strange need to possess this woman takes over me. It’s like I’ve been struck by lightning or shot with a damn Cupid’s arrow.
“A Cupid’s arrow,” I mutter, looking down as Boxcar comes trotting over, smiling up at me with his tongue lolling. “What the hell am I saying, boy? What the hell am I thinking?”
I’ve always tried to avoid sudden feelings like this in my novels, always tried to build them up gradually. I never even believed a person could feel so suddenly, so inexplicably before I read Maddison’s letter.
My manhood is a solid rod in my pants, pressing against my underwear, even if I have no idea what she looks like. It’s more like there’s a primal part of me roaring to find her and fuck her, fuck her hard until her twenty year old body has no choice but to…
I laugh again, low and grim, as the thought thunders into me.
Until she has no choice but to get pregnant.
What. The. Fuck?
I’ve always wanted kids but suspected I’d never have them because no woman has ever ignited this sort of atavistic need inside of me before. But when I think about Maddison’s letter, when I return to the table and glance down at her words, the notion touches me that this woman is destined to be the mother of my children.
Destined.
There’s another word I’ve tried to ignore my whole life.
I’ve never believed in destiny, in fate, in any of that crap.
But as I sit down to write my reply, I realize that – in the space of a few minutes – Maddison Smith has changed how I see everything.
Forever.
I take a sheet of paper and poise my pen, staring down, my hand trembling.
Warning myself not to go overboard and reveal this possessive compulsion inside of me, I write.
Chapter Three
Maddison
It’s a rare Saturday morning when I’m not working at the restaurant and I’m supposed to be writing. But instead, I’m sitting up in bed with my laptop open on my knees, staring at the photo of Madden I keep returning to.
It’s his most recent one, showing him with that haunted compelling look in his eyes as he stands behind a podium. His jaw tense and a subtle smirk toying with the corners of his mouth, as though he knows the punchline to a joke the rest of us can’t even guess at.
It’s been three weeks since I sent him the letter and I still haven’t gotten a reply, which makes complete sense. I even said so too, Kelly. He’s not going to write me back.
But that doesn’t stop me from eagerly checking the mail every time I leave the apartment, something heavy dropping in my chest when I realize there’s nothing there for me.
At least, nothing I’m interested in.
I study the shape of his arms in his tight-fitting shirt, the way they strain at the fabric, as though there’s a beast inside of him trying to break free.
My core tingles and my hand slides down my body as though on autopilot, as I imagine Madden charging into my bedroom with that same smirk on his face. As I slip my hand down pajama bottoms, I imagine him standing at the edge of the bed, his giant hand stroking up and down his front.
“That’s it,” I hear him growl in my mind, as the laptop falls aside and comes to rest on the mattress.
I twist so I can still stare at him, my cheeks burning hot. But nowhere near as hot as my clit, my lips, my sex, everything tingling like it always does when I think about him.
The man I’ve wanted for so freaking long.
The man I’m destined to never have.
I bring my finger to my clit, letting out a little moan—
Knock-knock.
I jolt up with a surprised gasp.
