by Lylah James
I wished there was a way to fix this, but it was clear there was no going back, no matter how much either of us wanted to.
I was sitting on my couch, staring at the TV, although I wasn’t really watching the screen when Maddox walked inside my apartment. He wore a blank expression and had a piece of paper in his hand. The last time we saw each other was two days ago, after our last exams. This semester was officially over.
“We’re going to Paris,” he announced. “Me and you.”
Me and you. I almost laughed, a cold-humorless laugh. It used to be cute when we’d say that, but now, it hurt.
Me and you. But for how long, Maddox? We were already at the breaking apart.
“Paris, why?” I croaked, before clearing my throat. I didn’t want him to read the emotions on my face.
“It’s my birthday in four days. Daddy dearest gave me tickets to Paris as a present. Well, he mailed them to me.”
This meant his parents obviously weren’t planning to spend Maddox’s birthday with him. In all the years we’d known each other, I’d never seen his parents celebrate his birthday. No hugs, no love, no affection. It made me angry, so furious with the way they always treated Maddox.
He deserved better.
He wasn’t as complicated as everyone thought. Maddox Coulter was just a misunderstood boy who needed and deserved someone to fight for him–to show him that he was worth it.
And I was going to be that person. Even if I couldn’t do it as his lover, I was going to do it as his best friend at least.
Because, truly, he was worth all the love–all the love he never had but deserved.
“I’ve never been to Paris,” I finally confessed.
Maddox finally cracked a sincere smile. “I know, and you’re going to love it.”
City of love. And two best friends who didn’t have the courage to acknowledge whatever this was between us.
What were the odds? Fate really did like to play cruel jokes on us.
I dragged my nails over my thighs. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow night. That’s enough time for you to pack, right?” Maddox asked, walking further into my apartment, but still keeping a distance between us.
I nodded and then patted the couch. “Join me. I’m watching ‘Friends.’ It’s the pivot scene.”
Maddox looked undecisive, a troubled tension hanging between us.
Please say yes.
Please don’t leave me. Again.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, and his eyes flickered to me and the TV. Relief coursed through my veins when he took a step toward me and settled on the couch beside me, not saying a word.
A moment passed between us, I smiled – almost a timid smile, and we turned to face the TV at the same time.
A few minutes later, the brutal tension dissolved, and our shoulders shook with silent laughter at the scene we were watching. Our knees were touching, the briefest touch, but my skin tingled. My pulse raced like a freight train, and my heart palpitated; he was laughing, and I was laughing, and the world had never felt so right in that mere second.
I wanted to cherish this moment, so afterward, years later, when Maddox and I had been torn apart by our unspoken feelings, I’d remember what it felt like to be this close to him.
***
Later that night, sleep didn’t come easy. I tossed and turned, thinking about Maddox and our upcoming trip to Paris. Was this going to be a mistake? Maybe. Probably.
But I couldn’t say no, and I wanted to spend this time with him.
Just the two of us.
The ache between my legs was back again, my body tensing with frustration.
Ever since that night – the night Maddox was drunk, my body had been on fire, burning, skin tight with need and aching.
And no matter how much I masturbated, I still felt so empty after, never fully satisfied.
My clit swelled and throbbed. Reaching over, I grabbed my second pillow and pressed it between my legs. My eyes squeezed shut as I rocked my hips, back and forth, against the pillow, trying to alleviate the pulsing ache in my pussy. I underestimated how much I wanted Maddox.
My need intensified, and I throbbed harder. Pushing a hand between my thighs, I shoved my panties aside, and my fingers grazed my folds, pushing my wet lips apart and then moving higher to my swollen clit. I rubbed and pressed against the bundle of nerves there, while grinding my pussy faster against the pillow, rubbing my exposed, sensitive flesh against the soft fabric. The friction almost had me losing my mind, but it still wasn’t…enough.
My hand matched the rhythm of my hips. My index finger probed my entrance, and when my pussy clenched, seeking to be filled, I slowly thrust my finger inside. Oh God, oh God!
My breath hitched, and I grew hotter, my sticky wetness dripping between my legs–a reminder of how wrong this was, but I still moaned out Maddox’s name.
I pinched my clit, rocking my hips faster. I imagined it was Maddox between my legs. I imagined it was his cock pushing against my entrance, not my small fingers.
I imagined him pulsing inside me, filling me… thrusting inside… grunting out my name.
My body tightened, and my hips jerked against the pillow as I rode out my mini orgasm; my panties were drenched and my fingers wet and coated with my release. A low whine spilled from my lips, “Maddox.”
I rubbed my finger over my pussy-lips, imagining it was his lips on my pussy, before I pulled my hand out of my panties. My legs were slack against the pillow; my inner thighs still sticky with my release.
I didn’t have the energy to get up and change. My eyes fluttered close, and I fell into a restless sleep.
Maddox invaded my dreams. I felt his kisses… saw his handsome face… felt his touch sliding down my body.
Hot tears slid down my cheeks, because it was only a dream, only my fantasy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Maddox
I was angry. At myself, at Lila, at everyone… everything and at fate.
I’d lost my way with Lila, and I didn’t know how to pull her out from under my skin.
We landed in Paris, and my stomach twisted with fury and unwarranted possessiveness as men stared at Lila. Their gaze followed her, lingering over her ass. I told myself I wasn’t jealous – just protective of her. These assholes wouldn’t know how to handle a woman like Lila.
By the time we reached our hotel, frustration gnawed at my gut, and I was just so fucking angry, I couldn’t think straight.
Nothing made sense – not my reaction to Lila or the stormy emotions I couldn’t understand why I was feeling.
Friends didn’t think about fucking each other.
But that was exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to hear her moan my name, I wanted her to whimper as my dick stretched her tight cunt, I wanted… needed… Lila.
This wasn’t just lust. I craved her lips and the sound of her voice. She made me feel unhinged, my emotions too wild to control. I loathed how easily Lila could break through my barrier–she could rip me apart and put me back together, again and again–I was her more than willing victim.
I wanted to possess her. And I couldn’t.
Lila was sunshine mixed with a little hurricane, and I was getting swept away. I was going to put a stop to it.
It had to come to an end and soon, before we both did something we’d regret for the rest of our lives. I was willing to peel Lila off from under my skin, even if it left me bleeding and mortally wounded.
My eyes flickered to Lila, watching her smile at the receptionist. Sunkissed skin, soft lips, pinkened cheeks and brown eyes that captured me since that day at the coffee shop, almost four years ago.
“Bonjour,” a voice broke through my thoughts. “How are you doing today?”
A man appeared at Lila’s side, suited and standing tall. His gaze landed on her tits first before they lifted to her face.
Lila nodded in greeting, and they shook hands. He introduced himself as the
owner of the hotel, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at Lila. It was written all over his face.
He wanted her.
My blood boiled, and I swallowed down a growl.
His hand brushed against Lila’s arm. “Please, if you need any help today, you can come and find me. A lady like you shouldn’t have to go through any trouble alone.”
Lila let out a small laugh. “Oh, I’m not alone.” She stepped closer to me and place a hand on my arm, smiling. “Maddox is with me.”
Mr. Owner, I didn’t catch his name nor did I care, eyed me up and down. “A friend, I see?” he asked, with a thick English accent.
He was checking to see if I was his rival. Fuck, if he only knew…
Lila, oblivious to what was happening, replied, “Yes, a friend. We’re so excited to be visiting Paris together.”
The moment Lila admitted we were friends, his eyes lit up with triumph.
I instantly hated him.
He was practically undressing Lila and fucking her with his eyes, and she had no idea. Or she was playing coy…
My chest tightened. Was she interested in him…? Lila was smiling, her body relaxed, and she giggled at something he had said.
Motherfucker!
By the time we got to our rooms, I was seeing crimson red. I’d never been so angry in my entire fucking life.
“He said they have a fancy bar. Maybe we should go tonight after we’ve rested?” Lila asked, rubbing her tired eyes. “I need sleep right now.”
She stifled a yawn and peeked up at me through her lashes. I nodded, mutely, and walked into my room, closing the door behind me.
My skin prickled with the need to hit something. I ripped my shirt off and quickly undressed, getting in the shower. I turned the water to cold, letting it seep through my bones. My body numbed, but my mind was still a storm of mixed emotions. It was that feeling when I didn’t know what the fuck I was feeling.
I quickly soaped up my body, my hand drifting to my dick. I stroked myself once, and my eyes squeezed shut. An image of Lila drifted behind my eyelids.
Perky tits, pink nipples, cute as fuck belly button, taunt stomach, curvy hips, and an ass I wanted to sink my dick in.
My cock jerked as I put more pressure on it, fisting the length from base to tip. My hand glided over my dick easily through the cascading water. Pre-cum covered the tip, and my balls grew tight between my legs.
Sometimes, as messed up as this was, I wondered if I could just fuck her and get rid of this itch. But Lila wasn’t someone I could fuck out of my system. It was years of built-up tension and sexual need between us. One simple fuck, one hot night… would never be enough.
Because the moment I had one taste of her… I’d need more...I would never be satisfied.
My stomach caved, and my thighs tightened as the pressure built, and it finally released. My knees weakened, and I pressed my forehead against the tiles, thick ropes of cum spilling over my hand instantly washed away by the water. I fisted my dick until every last drop was spent and then I cursed. So. Fucking. Weak.
This had to end, now… tonight…
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Lila
His presence was a warm heat behind me as we walked into the bar. He was close, really fucking close. I could feel him. I could smell him. He was so close, yet so far out of reach. A dangerous temptation dangling right in front of me.
I wanted to turn around and wrap my arms around him, bask in his warmth. We’d hugged and cuddled plenty of times before, but since the Charity Gala, everything had been different.
He had been different.
Somehow, there was a wall between us now. I couldn’t break it or walk around it. It was exhausting and scary – watching the change in him, seeing him so…cold and withdrawn from me. Sometimes, it felt like he was battling something inside his head. I waited silently for him to come to me, to speak of his worries, so I could find a way to soothe him. Like always.
Except…it started to feel as if I was the problem. As if he was hiding from me.
A week in Paris. This was supposed to be fun and exciting. An adventure for us, but it was day one and it was already going to waste.
I chewed on my bottom lip as we walked further inside the dim room. It wasn’t overly crowded, but everyone here looked fancy. After all, this was one of the most famous hotels of Paris; wealthy and posh people came here often. “I didn’t think the hotel would have its own bar. Fancy. I like it.”
“It’s nice,” he replied. There was a roughness in his voice, except his tone was robotic. No emotions whatsoever.
I paused in my steps, expecting him to bump into me. He didn’t. Instead, I felt his arm slide around my waist as he curled it around me. Our bodies collided together softly, and I sucked in a quiet breath. His rock-hard chest was to my back, pressing against me, and I could feel every intake of breath he took. His touch was a sweet, sweet torture.
Fuck you. Fuck you for making me feel this way. Fuck you for tempting me and leaving me hanging. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you…
“This way.” His lips lingered near my ear as he whispered the words. He steered me toward the bar stools.
We sat side by side. From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he ordered our drinks. His voice was smooth, and it slid over my skin like silk. Soft and gentle.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the man standing next to me until his hand touched my shoulder. I swiveled to the left, my eyes catching the intruder. Yes, intruder. He was interrupting my time with him.
Maddox Coulter – the balm to my soul but also the stinging pain in my chest. He was a sweet heaven but also the of my existence.
“Remember me?” the man in the suit asked with a tiny grin.
Yup, I did. He was the owner of the hotel. We met him when we checked in yesterday.
“I saw you across the bar, and I knew instantly, you had to be the pretty girl I met last night.” His English was perfect, but it was laced with a husky French accent. I had to admit, it was kind of sexy. Mr. Frenchman stood between our stools, separating Maddox and me. He blocked my view of Maddox and I. Did. Not. Like. That.
“Thank you for helping us yesterday,” I replied sweetly, masking my irritation.
His emerald eyes glimmered, and his grin widened. Mr. Frenchman was your typical tall, dark, and handsome eye candy. And he wore an expensive suit that molded to his body quite nicely. “It was all my pleasure.”
I nodded, a little lost at what else I could say. I wasn’t shy or uncomfortable around men. But this one was a little too close for my liking, and since I had zero interest in him, even though he could definitely be my type, given the fact that someone else had all my attention, I didn’t want to continue this conversation.
“Lucien Mikael.” He presented me with his hand. I remembered he told us his name last night, but I didn’t tell him mine.
I took his palm in mine, shaking it. “You can call me, Lila. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”
Instead of shaking my hand, he turned it over and brought my hand to his lips. He kissed the back of it, his lips lingering there for a second too long. His eyes met mine over our entwined hands. “My pleasure, ma belle.”
Oh dear. Yup. Mr. Frenchman was flirting.
I glanced around Lucien and saw that Maddox was lounging back in his stool, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a drink in his hand, and he was staring directly at me. His face was expressionless.
Lucien turned to the bartender and said something to him in French. I didn’t understand the words, but I quickly figured out what he said when he turned back to me.
“It’s on me. A treat for a lovely lady.”
I was already shaking my head. “Oh. You didn’t have to –”
His hand tightened around mine. “Please, allow me.”
“Thank you.”
Lucien opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Excuse me
, chérie.”
As he moved away, I caught sight of Maddox again. Our eyes met, and I stopped breathing. His gaze was dark, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that I wondered if it’d crack under the pressure. I could see the ticks in his sharp jaw as he gritted his teeth. His face – I didn’t know how to describe it. Anger made his eyes appear darker, almost deadly. A shadow loomed over his face, his expression almost threatening. There was a predatory feel in his glare as he watched me closely.
He constantly pushed me away, putting more and more distance between us. Why was he so angry now? I couldn’t tell. I. Couldn’t. Fucking. Think. Especially when he stared at me like this.
Maddox was maddening. He pulled and pushed; he loved and hated. I always thought I understood him better than anyone else. But right now, he confused the hell out of me.
“Lila.” My eyes snapped away from Maddox, and I looked at Lucien. He was apparently done with his phone call, and his attention was back on me. Before I could pull away, he gripped my hand in his once more. “If you need anything while you are in Paris, please call me. I could take you sightseeing. I know many beautiful places.”
He let go of my hand, and I turned my palm over to see his business card. Smooth trick, Mr. Frenchman. “Umm, thank you.”
Lucien leaned down and quickly placed a chaste kiss on both my cheeks before pulling away. “Au revoir, chérie.”
I didn’t watch him leave. All my attention was on the man sitting beside me. He took a large gulp of his drink.
“He likes you,” he said, once Lucien was out of hearing range.
“Jealous?” I shot back immediately.
A smirk crawled onto his face, and he chuckled, his wide chest rumbling with it. “He wants to fuck you, Lila.”
My stomach clenched, goosebumps breaking out over my skin. My breath left me in a whoosh. His words were spoken dangerously low, although the harshness in his voice could not be mistaken.
“How would you know?” I retorted, angry and confused. He played with my feelings, turning my emotions into a little game of his. Maddox had me in knots, twisting me around like a little plaything.
