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We make our way out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. Maddox gestures for me to sit at the table while he gets everything together for our sandwiches. I answer his questions as he asks me how I like my food. It's calming to be in the kitchen with him, watching him make us a meal as if he has done it a million times before. It's an odd, euphoric feeling considering. But somehow deep down, I know there's something more about him, but I know I'm safe with him—a gentle giant. This thought makes me smile, and I settle in to watch him finish our meal. Maybe this could’ve been the best thing to happen to me.

Chapter Eight

Maddox

Getting Taylor to eat and sit and have a conversation feels like a victory. We were thrown into this situation not knowing anything about each other, and though I was determined to stay as far away as possible and I didn't want to get to know her, I find myself intrigued by her. I'm very curious about this woman. When I met her in the store, I never would've imagined she was fighting her demons. But I guess that's why they say you can't judge a book by its cover. I wonder what she thought of when she first met me. Well, maybe I don

't.

My ghosts may be different than hers, but the effects seem to be the same. Maybe, we could help each other. It could be a long shot, but I now think that if we share our stories, we could help each other get through our storms to where we can function better with others—me, more than her. It could be the stress of the storm and being away from home, but I feel like it’s deeper than that.

I find it odd that I even want to talk about my issues. With anyone. I have been perfectly fine staying in my bubble and not having to be around anyone else. There’s something about Taylor, though, that makes me feel comfortable. She makes me want to open up. And that is very strange considering the very little interaction we have had thus far and most of which have either been us arguing or her crying. I can’t explain it, but I'm determined to pinpoint it. I'm just downright curious about her.

As I watched her eat earlier, the sun came through the window and hit her hair just right showing a slight tint of red. And the way the small pieces of hair that fell from her braid made her look so carefree and even sexy. I could tell she was trying to be reserved and shy by the way she's eating. She was very careful to take her time and not to make a mess. Between bites, though, I caught her licking her lips and then biting her bottom lip, just slightly. For some reason, this tiny thing had me going crazy. I’ve never been a man to notice such a gesture, and it was amplified. Now I can’t get it out of my head.

Even now, while we sit quietly by the fire, her on the couch and me in my chair, the thought of her is filling my head. She’s curled up with the quilt and reading, holding a warm cup of tea, oblivious to the fact that I'm watching her. All I want is to see her bite her lip once more in such a shy, innocent manner, to see if it affects me the same way as it had earlier. She starts to stir a little, so I quickly look down to my book, not wanting to get caught staring. I can't even remember what I'm reading and find I'm not even reading the words. My mind is stuck on her, and I cannot distract myself. I need to. My thoughts are interrupted by her beautiful voice.

“Everything okay?”

“What do you mean?” I try to keep my eyes on my books as though I'm trying to concentrate.

“You seem distracted.”

How can she pick up on that? Maybe I'm not as sly as I thought. "Nope. I'm good."

“Oh okay.”

She leaves it at that and continues to read. When I think she has her full attention back to her book, I sneak a slight glance in her direction. As soon as I do, her eyes lift and meet mine, and we sit there staring at each other for what seems like hours when it's only a few seconds. She sends a slight smile at me, then looks back down at her book. I can't help but smile too.

What the hell is going on with me? I feel like a kid in school right now. I never thought I could feel like this again. Ever since she has been in my space, she has challenged my mindset and feelings, and she wasn't even aware of it. Wanting to get to know her and be close to her has surprised me. But at the same time, it has made me feel guilty. Should I feel this way? Is it too soon? I have never questioned myself on this. I haven’t been open to letting someone else in for a long time. Now, with Taylor here, I can feel myself starting to open up. Starting to want to open up. This could be nothing but trouble.

She bites her lip again, and it's all over for me. What the hell? In that instant, I grow hard as a rock and need to get away from her. Had I waited a few more seconds, I would’ve possibly said something I regretted, but she was looking at me with such intensity that I needed to get away. I needed to cool off and to get rid of the evidence of the effect she has on me. When we were stuck in our moment, I saw her cheeks redden, which caused my heartbeat to quicken. Then, she bit her lip again, and I was a goner.

Now, here I'm in my room, hiding. I'm a thirty-year-old man, hiding in his room from a beautiful woman who seems to have a small interest in me. Most would capitalize on this, but the truth is, I’m scared. It’s been too long. I’m rusty and at least ten years older than her. I had just decided to get to know her better, but I need to get to know her without jumping right between the sheets.

I try to think of all the things I usually think of to get rid of an erection. To my surprise, nothing is working. She has me so worked up, and we haven’t even gotten close. She’s going to be trouble for sure. Without any other options, and not wanting to be in my room too much longer, I decide to take care of the…..issue. I quickly head to my bathroom.

I shut the door behind me, not that I think she’d come in. Still. Never know. Unceremoniously, I drop my pants to my ankles, boxers with them, and sit on the edge of the tub. Damn, I'm rock hard. I can’t remember the last time a woman had me so worked up. I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I grab my shaft. I instantly see her sweet face. Her blue eyes stare up at me with the evidence of her desire showing on her cheeks. My breath quickens with every stroke, and my other hand braces me on the edge of the tub. I'm already so close to exploding. I don't imagine anything other than her, which is another new for me. I imagine her perky tits in my mouth, tasting her sweet pissy, and then I see her bite her lower lip as her eyelids drop a little with the most seductive look I have ever seen, and with that, I come. Hard. It takes all I have not to let out a loud moan as my juices shoot onto the floor. My legs start to shake, and my body convulses as I come down from my intense release. Taking a few more deep breaths, I gather myself and clean up the evidence on the floor. I'm not new to this act, but this was different. I have never had that intense of a response to a woman, not even during sex. Now, I'm curious about what it’d be like to be inside of her and feel the need to come again. I’m harder than before and take myself into my palm, stroking faster and harder than before, and when I whisper her name, long trails of silver escape me along with deep grunts. Fuck.

After I calm myself, I return my boxers and pants around my waist and leave the bathroom. I know she probably thinks she's done something wrong and I need her to know that's not the case. The longer I'm in my room, the longer she's made to sit, alone, with nothing but her thoughts. Now, all I want is to be close to her. To know her. To feel her. If I keep this up, I will end up jerking off more than I did when I was a teenager, and that's saying something.

When I return to the living room, I'm surprised to see her still on the couch, reading. I half expected her to retreat to her room for the rest of the night. I suddenly felt nervous and wasn't sure what exactly to do. I didn't want to read anymore, that's for sure. I can't just stand here like a creep either.

Not saying anything, I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass for some water. I drain the whole glass but still need something to help my nerves. I grab a bottle of whiskey and pour a double, swigging it back as fast as possible. It feels so good going down. Suddenly, I got an idea of a way to break the ice with her, and to have fun—if she’d play along. I grab another glass and the bottle and set them on the dining room table. Then, rummage through my drawers until I find the deck of cards I was in search of. With a deep breath, I walk into the living room, loudly, so she knew I was coming.

“Hey, how about a game?”

She looks up at me over her shoulder with a confused but amused expression.

“What kind of game?”

“How about poker?”

She looks back at the fire, thinking about the proposition. I don't let her know my full intentions, yet. I need her to say yes to cards first; then we will work into the game I want to play.

Finally, after what seems like hours, she responds.

“Okay. But take it easy on me, it’s been awhile.”

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