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“Not gonna happen.”
She knocks her shoulder into mine. “Stubborn ass.”
I shrug. “It is what it is.”
“So you won’t talk to her, but you’ll hook up with her?”
I swing my gaze to my sister, arching a brow.
“Please,” she scoffs, waving me off. “I smelled her all over you when you came into the bar. Don’t you dare try to lie to me, Maddox Kessler.”
I stab my fingers through my hair, heaving a sigh. “Okay, yeah. I did. So what? It was a moment of weakness.”
“You sure that’s all it was?”
“Aves, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I really do. But I’ve gotta sort this shit out on my own.” I point a finger in her direction. “And you’d better not tell Mom any of this shit, she’ll just try to meddle.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know I’d never. Though she tried her hardest to get it out of me the other day. Even after everything, I think she’s still rooting for you two.”
“That’s surprising, considering how tense things got between her and Brock for a while there,” I say as we reach the packhouse, veering off the road to walk up the driveway.
“She’s just protective,” Avery reasons. “And she’s not scared of Brock Masters. Especially when it comes to her baby boy.” She darts up a hand, ruffling my hair.
“Knock it off,” I chuckle, shoving her away playfully.
We approach the front door, pausing on the stoop before we go inside.
“Seriously, though, Madd. When you do wanna talk…”
“I know.”
I press a kiss to my fingertips, smashing them against her forehead and rubbing them in. “Love you, Aves.”
She swats my hand away, laughing softly. “Love you too, stubborn ass.” She points a finger at me, lifting her brows. “Figure out your shit.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I groan, reaching for the handle and pushing the door open.
Avery stops in the kitchen to grab something to eat while I head straight upstairs, locking myself in my room. And though there are probably a bunch of other things I should be doing, I flop onto my bed, reach into the waistband of my sweats, and pull out my dick.
It thickens beneath my palm as I give it a couple lazy strokes, my mind conjuring up the image of Sloane’s perfect body quaking around my fingers as she came undone. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle a groan as I fist my cock, remembering the way she tugged at my hair, the little cries that left her lips as I brought her closer and closer to the edge.
And with that picture in my mind, I come in two minutes flat, fucking hating myself for it.
18
Madd’s voice is hoarse, full of heart-wrenching anguish as he chokes out my name on a sob. He’s crawling through the snow toward my unconscious body, unable to walk but determined to get to me. One of his legs is twisted at an odd angle, broken from his jump off the ski-lift, but he’s fighting through the physical pain, tears streaming down his face from the effort.
His eyes round in horror as he closes the distance and sees the crimson blood blooming in the crisp white snow beneath my head, spreading like spilled ink on a blank canvas. He pushes himself harder in his desperation to reach me, panting from exertion when he’s finally close enough to reach out and gather my limp body in his arms.
“Sloane, baby, wake up,” Madd rasps, frantically sweeping my hair out of my face. It’s a mess, soaked with blood still spilling from my head wound at an alarming rate. “Please, Duchess, wake up!”
But I don’t.
I can’t.
I’m out cold, dead to the world yet somehow outside of my own body, watching this horrific scene unfold for the first time.
Madd scrambles to pull his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts with shaking hands before mashing the button to place a call, holding it up to his ear.
