AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And I’ll…
I don’t let my thoughts stray to the prospect of my love life, or lack of love life as the case may be.
As the case probably will be.
But that doesn’t stop my stomach from tightening, as though my womb is pulsing with a whole world of need, telling me to find a way – any way – to get Madden Mitchell’s seed inside of me. It’s like time has drifted away and I’m in a cave in prehistoric times, shivering and waiting for my big strong man to come and protect me, to come and ensure our future.
Every time thoughts like that arise in my mind, I tell myself they’re too silly to take seriously. I tell myself I need to batter them down and not let myself go there, ever again, not let myself be tortured with such impossibility.
But I fail every time because my heart won’t listen to reason.
The only word my heart understands is Madden.
“Maddie?” Kelly grins, shaking her head. “Off in the clouds again?”
“How did you guess?” I banter, trying to put some joyfulness in my tone even if I feel anything but.
“So when are you going to email him and take him up on his offer?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice wavering. “I know I should. I know it’s the right thing to do. For my career, I mean.”
But not for my heart.
“Look.”
Kelly leans forward, takes my hand, and squeezes it softly, the same way she did in grief therapy after I broke down about my parents. She was always there for me, always helping me to push away the nastiness of my emotions and search for the light.
“I’d never dream of forcing you to do something you don’t want to do. And if you tell me you honestly, really don’t want to do this, I’ll drop it. But the thing is, Maddie, I’ve been with you since we were kids. I know you want this. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I tighten my hand around hers as our eyes lock, as we both silently acknowledge she’s right. Of course, she’s right. I want this. I burn for it. She is not wrong.
“Think of it like this,” she goes on. “If this offer had come from a different professional writer, one you didn’t have a crush on, would you even think twice about it?”
“No,” I say at once, as my passion for writing rises to the surface of my emotions for a moment, fleetingly louder than my burning sexual and emotional and soul-fueled need for Madden.
“Because you’ve worked too hard to try and become a writer to pass chances like this up. So my advice is to try and put your crush aside, if you can, and focus on your career. You deserve this.”
I give her hand another squeeze, even harder this time, as her words settle in my chest.
Everything she’s said is right, as though she’s reached into my mind and rearranged my thoughts, stopped them from fluttering around, and put them into some sort of logical order.
“Okay.” I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to put my writing first. I’m going to send that email.”
As I open my laptop and navigate to my email, a strange battle rages inside of me.
One half of me prays for him to reply, to tell me I’m not too late and of course we can still meet to discuss my writing.
But another half – the cowardly half, shivering in fear of my crush’s reaction – prays that he tells me no. Or he doesn’t respond.
Because even if that would be terrible for my writing career, it would mean not having to see the look of nothingness in his eyes when they come to rest on me.
It would mean not having to face the cold and absolute fact that a man like Madden Mitchell would never, ever want me.
I type out a quick note, keeping it strictly related to the meeting, thanking him, and asking him for a time convenient for him.
My finger hovers over send as I stare at the screen, feeling Kelly’s supportive gaze on me.
Finally, I hit it and then sit back, my heartbeat sending writhing signals up and down my body.
Chapter Six
Madden
I toss the tennis ball across the rooftop garden, watching as Boxcar ducks his head and sprints across the green toward the flowerbeds. The garden is protected on all sides by high transparent walls, with a railing behind that, so I know that the little man is safe.
It’s a cool and bright evening, the setting sun turning the sky an orange-red color, the same orange-red as the endless fire which rages inside of me.
It makes no damn sense for this feeling to remain when I’ve already laid eyes on her and I know she’s not the woman for me.
And yet every time I think about her letter, her words – and not her physical appearance – that same need for possession burns inside of me.
