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“Don’t squirm away from my question because you think I won’t like the answer. I’m not here to judge. Since your husband is obviously a sociopathic cockbag, I doubt many would blame you for having a something-something on the side. You don’t have to give me the details. I just want your honesty.”
He’d put his life at risk simply by bringing her into his house. He was sheltering her and had promised to help her. He was finding her a place to hide and listening to her problems. It would hurt, but she would swallow her embarrassment to give him the one thing he’d asked in return. “I never cheated on Todd. Since we exchanged vows, there hasn’t been anyone else. And I haven’t had an orgasm that I haven’t given myself since the last time you touched me.”
* * *
Madison’s plaintive, broken whisper hit Matt like a body blow. No man had given her satisfaction in over three fucking years? Her husband hadn’t even once given her climax?
“Jesus…”
“It’s fine. It’s not your problem.” She laughed so bitterly, it was nearly a sob. “It’s certainly not the most pressing problem in my life.”
In theory, no. But how fucking alone must she feel? The family she’d married into had done their best to control her at every turn. They hadn’t even approved of the one friend she’d tried to make in DC, and she had probably realized that any lover she took would meet with some sort of mishap—potentially life-threatening. She’d given up her own comfort to protect others. Hell, even when she’d propositioned him, she had quickly rescinded the offer, as if she’d been afraid for him.
Never mind what he wanted, what the fuckshouldhe do? If he was smart, he would hold her platonically and hope she came down enough from her fear trip to drift off, then find a quilt, curl up in the chair, and watch over her while willing away his hard-on from hell until morning, when he would hand her to Nash.
Matt wasn’t feeling smart. He couldn’t leave her to suffer.
Since the announcement of Madison’s engagement, he’d never found himself without a woman’s bed to be in. Hannah had been a gateway to the party girls in Lafayette, and he’d built a reputation for giving a good time. But not one of those women had evoked the deliciously twisted need to make her surrender or stirred a fraction of what Madison made him feel. If this was his last chance to be with her, shouldn’t he take it and do his damnedest to fuck her out of his system?
Jesus, he sounded selfish. Madison had been through so much. Her whole damn world had imploded. She was afraid, run down, and felt so, so alone. She teetered at her breaking point. Sure, his subversive side itched to wring every last drop of pleasure from her for his own deviant thrill. He knew how delicious her surrender was. Even being near her kindled a dangerous arousal. But using her to forget her? He couldn’t. Todd Pershing had been a thoughtless, motherfucking asshole. Matt refused to be the same.
“Do you want me to give you privacy?” He closed his eyes. His gut twisted with desire. “Or do you want me to bleed off your adrenaline for you?”
“You’ve already done so much.” She sounded half a breath from sobbing again.
“That wasn’t the question. Do you need me?
“Matt…” Her voice said yes, even if her stubborn words wouldn’t.
“Turn over and face the door,” he commanded softly.
Fresh tears spilled as she flipped onto her other side, putting her back to him. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in her scent and wrapped his arm around her middle, pulling her against his chest. She wriggled until her body fit perfectly against his, her pert ass pressing against his cock and making him grit his teeth. He was already so hard he was sweating.
He gripped her hip, stilling her. “Hold still, damn it.”
She did. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’ll stop if you want me to.”
Madison didn’t say a word.
“That’s what I thought. Close your eyes.”
In the dark, he couldn’t tell if she did. Honestly, it didn’t matter. But he closed his, just for a moment, just to breathe her in and try to get control of himself.
Instantly, he was back in their shared suite three years ago, his legs rubbery from repeated climax, even as the need for more Madison strung him out like a junkie. His skin flared. His blood thrummed. Longing carved his gut hollow, engorged his cock, and dissolved all thoughts except those about her.
“They’re closed,” she whispered.
“Now breathe.”
“Okay.” She let out a shuddering exhalation.
It didn’t help. “Relax.”
“I’m trying.”
Madison might be, but she was on adrenaline overload, every muscle in her body pinging. He hardly blamed her for struggling to comply. But she’d never sleep if she couldn’t let go of the tension.
