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He doesn’t sound happy, but at the same time, I understand what he meant. Maybe not in the same way, but the end result isn’t much different.
Before I can say anything to that effect, Maddox gently pulls Nudge from my arms and sets her on the chair to our right. I have a feeling I know what’s coming next, but I still hold my breath when he turns and fixes a hot gaze on me. He takes one step forward, and I take another one back, again and again until I’m pressed against the window and he has his hands on my hips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.
I close my eyes and let out an uneven breath. “You have to stop saying that. I’m about to start believing you.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but then he’s cupping my chin and lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark and serious, mouth tipped down at the corners. He moves his palm to my cheek, and his thumb brushes over my heated skin.
“If I do anything right in this time we have together, Eden, then you’ll leave here believing you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I can’t speak for the rest of the morons out there in the world, but I hope my words mean a little something to you.”
It’s too much. It’s too perfect. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from men who were so goddamn undeserving of my time. And it’s ridiculously unfair that it has to come from someone I have no shot of a future with.
I don’t let that get to me. I surge forward, and his hands come around me, and the next thing I know, we’re back in bed.
* * *
As thrilling as the idea is of letting Maddox eat me out, then fuck me into oblivion all day, we both get a little sore and hungry sometime around noon. He drags me from the bed, and we manage to clean up with the cold water from the tap. He’s even got a spare toothbrush, so I’m not entirely disgusting by the time we make out way back down to the lodge.
We get half-soaked again, but his staff has a couple of big space heaters going in the ballroom, and there’s a little lunch table set up like a banquet. There’s no one around, which is a little concerning, but Maddox catches my frown and waves off my worry.
“They all have rooms here,” he explains as he catches my fingers and pulls me toward the table. It’s filled with trays of cheese and meats that are resting over ice, and there’s chopped fruit, fresh vegetables, and massive bowls of potato chips. “In the winter, a lot of them stay over because the roads get bad, and we’re not maintained by the city.”
I frown as I start to load up a plate, hungrier than I first thought. Of course, my breakfast had been pretty much nonexistent, and I can’t even begin to count the calories we must have burned. Maddox catches my eye, then grins at our matching full plates, casting me a wink as he walks over to a cooler to fish out bottles of water.
“How do you even get guests up here if the roads are this bad all the time?” I ask. We head over to a little window nook that’s covered in cushions, and I fit my back in the corner, getting comfortable. He sits on the floor next to me, and the side of his head rests against my thigh as he props his plate on his bent knees.
“We pay a couple of locals here to plow,” he says before picking up his sandwich and taking a huge bite. I follow suit, a little daintier but still ready to stuff my face, and he swallows one more mouthful before going on. “It’s not perfect, but it gets the job done.”
I can’t help but wonder if I’m one of many guests trapped here like this, and my heart aches a little to think Maddox does this all the time. I don’t look at him as I make a dent in my sandwich, but I stop when I feel his gaze on me.
He’s got his hand lifted when I look over, and his mouth is working, but he’s not making a sound. After a beat, he growls and drops his fist to his thigh, pounding it hard.
“Hey,” I say in a rush. I reach for him, but he shakes his head, and I pull back quickly.
“I,” he starts. He licks his lips, then takes several breaths before lifting his hand and flexing his fingers. “It…” He goes silent after that.
My eyes catch a small collection of scars in his hairline, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize what’s happening. I don’t know what to do, so I sit back and nibble on the edge of a baby carrot. “I was seven when I learned what adoption was.”
Maddox freezes and looks at me, though he doesn’t try to speak again.
I offer him a smile and a shrug as I pick up a melon cube and take a bite. My mother would be having a literal conniption if she saw me talking with my mouth full, but that makes it even better. “In third grade, my teacher read the class this feel-good story about a kid who got adopted out of Africa. You know, one of those low-key racist stories where the person doesn’t even know Africa is a continent, not a country.”
Maddox’s mouth twitches, and he gives a jerky nod.
“My parents always told people that I took after my dad’s Italian side.” I grimace a little at the memory. “Anyway, after that, my classmates started teasing me about being adopted, like that kid. I mean”—I wave my hand up and down my body—“I’m me. And my mom looks like Heidi Klum.”
Maddox grunts and shakes his head, and it makes me warm inside. I set my plate aside and stretch my legs out along the window seat so I can drop my hand to his shoulder. He twists his neck and lets his cheek rest against my fingers, and I feel a small surge of triumph.
“I asked my parents, but they said to ignore those kids—that they were just being bullies, but I think I knew then that there was something different about me. The next year, my teacher started reading this book about an islander girl who got left behind by her family. I was obsessed with the story because I wanted mine to be… I don’t know, adventurous or something. Anyway, I decided to start a rumor that the book was based on my life.”
Maddox chokes a little. “You… what?”
I bop him on the side of the face with my knuckles. “I was nine,” I defend with a sheepish grin. “I was a little kid with blond-haired, blue-eyed, pale parents who wouldn’t tell me jack shit about where I’d come from. And I mean, kids will believe anything.”
He snorts. “Yeah.” His voice comes out more like a ragged whisper, but he’s sounding a bit more like himself.
“They told me that summer finally when I started snooping through my dad’s file cabinet. I think they thought I was going to be pissed off, but I was just relieved. I mean, I was frustrated because the adoption was closed, so they had no idea where my parents were from, but I was still glad to know I wasn’t crazy.”
