by Lux, Vivian
But she listened to me. She fucking listened.
I didn't want to betray how good that made me feel. "What was shitty about it?"
She blew an adorable puff of air out of the corner of her lips. "I don't know if it's any one thing in particular. Everything just generally sucks."
I smiled at her and pointed at the wall. "You want me to grab that painting for you?"
She laughed, and I swear, it was the best sound in the world. "I'll try to refrain. I wouldn't want you thinking I would just kick in any old painting. It has to be special."
"I'm honored."
"You should be." She started gathering her things, and I was suddenly filled with panic about her leaving. I didn't want her to go...ever. "Hey, I need to go grab a few strings from Callow's, want to tag along?"
She opened and closed her mouth. Then she stuck her tongue firmly in her cheek. "Sure," she grinned. "I was thinking of taking up the accordion in my spare time."
"Great. I'll grab the bagpipes. We can duet on the next Ruthless album."
"Work is work!" she laughed. I held open the door for her, once more loving how she let me guide her. It was a struggle not to let my hand slide further down her back to cup her ripe little ass, but I refrained.
"Speaking of," I said as we stepped out into the bright sunshine. "The video is done."
She stumbled a little and I steadied her. "Yeah?" she asked. Her eyes were unnaturally bright.
"Yup."
She exhaled. "Is it good?"
"Fantastic," I told her. "It'll be out in the world by tomorrow afternoon, Mads." I wanted to touch her and had to settle for brushing her arm. "Everyone is going to see how incredible you are."
The smile that lit up her face was like the sun shining just for me. I knew right then that I would do anything to make her smile like that. Over and over again. As much as I could. For as long as she'd let me.
She was still smiling as I held open the door of the store. Callow's Music Shoppe had somehow managed to resist the tide of gentrification that had otherwise swept this block clean of any character. It was a dark, subterranean winding thing that I fell in love with the instant I found it.
"This place is creepy," Maddie hissed.
"Hush. It is not."
"It smells like sweaty guys and cigarettes."
"That's the smell of rock and roll, baby."
"You don't smell like that."
"Dammit. I'll have to rock harder."
"If it means you’ll start reeking like this place, please don't. I won't want to come near you."
The second she said that, her hand lifted like she wanted to snatch the words out of the air. But too late, Princess, you already said them.
"Shut up," she said.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. I can tell by your look."
"I'm over here, innocently buying strings. Stop insinuating things."
She huffed, adorable as ever, and stomped over to stare at a few cheap five strings that lined the wall. She crouched down, and I allowed myself a lingering look at the way her thighs strained against her jeans before I turned and reached up for what I needed. That's when I heard it.
"You're Madeline Cole."
I turned around, but Maddie didn't. She stayed crouched down, frozen in place. She looked like she hadn't heard the guy, but she definitely had.
I stepped back, far enough to give her space, but close enough to watch and be there if she needed me. That guy had creeper vibes oozing from his sweaty pores.
"Hey, you hear me?" he needled, getting into her space. I took an involuntary step forward.
"I did." Her voice was low, measured, controlled. I felt the distinct urge to deck this guy, whoever the fuck he thought he was.
"You're Madeline Cole, right?"
She finally straightened up. "I am." There was a rapid little pulse at the base of her neck. I had the strangest urge to kiss it.
The sweaty dude did this little shuffle-dance of triumph. "Oh my god, you are. I can't believe it."
"Me neither." Maddie sounded wistful, but the sweaty dude didn't notice or care.
"I thought about you every single day for like eight years."
"Every day?"
"Yeah." He leered, grabbing at his crotch. "Sometimes five or six times a day."
Maddie blinked several times. I quickly did the math. Her show wound up a year ago. She was twenty-three. That meant this guy had been thinking of her....
Fucking creepy ass pedophile...I clenched my fists, ready to flatten him.
Maddie lifted her chin. "Why would you tell me that?" Her voice was steady.
"It's a compliment." Sweaty guy licked his lips, raking his eyes over her body. "Bitch."
I was already moving. "Fucking say that again, asshole!"
"Rane, no...."
"Yes!"
"No!" She pressed her hand to my chest and whirled on the guy. "It's not a fucking compliment, it's creepy as hell. Do you have a girlfriend?
He looked completely caught off guard. "No."
She darted a quick look at me and gave a slight nod. Fire blazed in her eyes and I knew, I knew, she was flattening the box forever more. She whirled back on the hapless idiot like the fucking force of nature she really was. "That's because you say shit like that to women," she thundered. "Stop being creepy, go to the gym and then practice talking to women like they're people." She lifted her chin at him. "Then you can try to say hi to me again."
The guy looked from her, to me, back to her again, then turned away, muttering.
Maddie exhaled, long and shaky, and looked up at me. Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly.
I covered it with mine.
Here she was, the real Maddie, fucking my Maddie. I wasn't sure how I was ever going to let her go.
She pulled back. Blinked at me. Her whole body flushed, her lips parted as she sucked in a gasp. "Why'd you do that?" she said. She really wanted to know.
She had no idea how completely wild she drove me.
I forced my voice to stay level. "Dunno. Felt right."
"Yeah?" She blinked slowly, a pleased grin stretching across her face.
"Seeing you tear into that guy got me all hot and bothered." That wasn't even the half of it.
"I talk to you that way," she teased, poking me in the chest.
"Maybe I've been hot and bothered for a while now."
"Oh..."
This time, she kissed me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Madeline
The hum of bees in my dream finally resolved itself into the buzz of my cell phone against my nightstand.
Confused, I checked the clock. It was six thirty in the morning. Looking at my phone, I glared at the strange series of numbers.
An international call. London.
All at once I was awake.
"Hello, this is Madeline Cole," I croaked.
"Madeline." Those clipped British tones went right to my belly, which immediately started twisting around itself. "I hope I haven't woken you."
I sprang from my bed. "No, no, Mr. Neil, everything is fine. What can I do for you?"
I could hear the creak of his chair as Jonathan Neil sat back. I imagined his office, all dark wood and leather. He probably had a cup of tea right by his elbow. Or brandy. "I wanted to congratulate you on your work in the Ruthless video," he said. "And though I know you read for the part of Imogene, I wanted to invite you back and have you read the part of Larissa for us."
My legs gave out. I bounced back onto my bed. "Larissa?"
"Do you remember which part I'm referring to?"
Of course I did. "The shopkeeper."
Jonathan murmured a noise of assent. "Honestly, I would have never considered you for an antagonist role. But after seeing your work in the video, I think you could be quite capable. It might throw the audience off, hide her true intentions until the last minute if we had somebody like you playing her. It would be quite unexpected."
"Excellent. I'll be in touch with Jen to schedule, of course, but I wanted to check with you personally. Really, great work, Madeline. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do for us."
I made a few mechanical noises of agreement and managed to say goodbye without embarrassing myself. But when Jonathan hung up the phone, all the strength left my legs and I fell back into bed, flat on my back, and stared wordlessly at the ceiling.
Jonathan Neil had called me back to read for a different part in Skyline Drive. The part of Larissa wasn't the main character, not the ingénue. She was the villain, disguised as the best friend. It was a small but juicy role, the kind of thing I would have never considered.
Or been considered for.
But now?
I clapped my hands together and squealed in glee. Who could I call? Who could I tell? Who would understand how absolutely huge this was?
My whole body seemed to scream out in a single voice, "Rane!"
I grabbed my phone. Yesterday's kiss was still burned across my lips, and the wedding was only days away. But I had to thank him. It was his video, after all, that had opened this opportunity for me.
And fuck if I didn't want to thank him in person.
"You awake?" I texted. I expected he wouldn't be. Rock 'n roll guys were not known for their early mornings. But there was no way I could get back to sleep.
My phone buzzed in my hand. "Guess I forgot to turn my notifications off last night. So yeah. Now I am," it read.
I laughed like a maniac.
"Come over here. I have something I want to tell you." My hands shook so badly I had to delete and retype it four separate times.
"You're joking, right?" came the response.
"That's your job," I typed back quickly.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he wrote.
"Hurry up," I wrote.
"Yes, Princess." This time, his nickname for me didn't make me angry. It made me gleeful. It was what he called me. And hell, he made me feel like a princess.
A half an hour later, my doorbell rang. My fingers lingered on my doorknob for half a second too long. What was I doing? First I'd kissed him, now I was inviting him over in the early morning? The rational side of me seemed to have completely fled, leaving only Mad Maddie in her place.
I'm living, I told myself, hearing Rane's voice in my head as I said it.
"You had better have coffee," he grunted as I opened the door.
When I saw him on my doorstep, I nearly lost the strength in my legs once more. Seeing him this early in the morning felt too intimate. He hadn't shaved yet and the dark stubble in the shadow of his cheekbone made the swirling pattern of a whirlpool. I dropped my eyes down to his collarbone before it sucked me under.
He was waiting for me, and when I finally felt composed enough to look back up into his gray eyes, a ghost of a smile crinkled at the corners.
"Of course I do," I said. I made sure to keep my eyes focused on his earlobe as I talked. "Didn't we already establish my caffeine addiction yesterday? Come on in."
I knew it was an optical illusion, but it seemed like his head almost brushed the ceiling of my tidy little bungalow. He was too long and too broad for this small, feminine place. There was nowhere I could move that wasn't already filled with his presence. "Actually, strike that. Let's fill a Thermos and go somewhere."
"Where do you want to go?" he asked, opening my cupboards one by one until he found the one that had the mugs.
"I don't know. What do you like to do? You know, when you're not rocking out?"
He shot me a grin. "Are you insinuating I'm not rocking out right now?" he asked impishly.
"Right now, I thought you were doing an impression of a zombie," I told him, holding out my arms and shuffling.
"That's because you haven't shown me where you keep your sugar," he retorted.
I pulled the sugar bowl down from its place in the spice cabinet. When I handed it to him, his fingers brushed over mine, just lightly enough to be an accident, but just long enough for me to know that it wasn't.
"When I'm not rocking out, huh?" he asked, spooning a truly obscene amount of sugar into his coffee. "Well, let me ask you this? Do you like hiking?"
I looked down at the floaty maxi-dress I had agonized over this morning. Pretty but casual. Not trying too hard to impress, but impressive enough. But not really...rugged. No more than the little thong sandals I had chosen to go with it.
"Not a question I ever thought I'd be asked," I confessed.
"You've never hiked?"
"I've...walked."
"So, that's what we'll call this."
"Around rocks and trees and shit?"
He looked amused. "And shit."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a hiker, Mr. Rock God Wilder."
He rolled his eyes and ignored the name. "My mom."
"She took you hiking?" I knew precious little about his mother and grasped at the little crumb of knowledge about the woman who birthed this man.
"Yeah. She was always taking us on these forced marches. Hippie shit. Keir hated it. But I learned to endure it. Then I liked it. When she left, well..."
"You started to love it?"
"Pretty much, yeah.”
"Okay. You're full of surprises, you know."
"Stick around. You haven't seen anything yet."
"Okay." I didn't tell him how badly I wanted to do just that. "I should change, though, right?"
He let his eyes drop down to my chest and the little hint of cleavage I had deemed demure enough for 'friendship.' "Nope," he growled.
"That was not a very 'friendly' looked you just gave me."
"What do you mean? It was extremely friendly."
"Eyes up here, Wilder."
He shook his head. "Cold as ice."
"You're one to talk. I call you and tell you I have news I want to share, and you're not even the least bit curious to find out what it is?"
He sipped his coffee, eyeing me over the rim. "Oh, I'm curious. Figured you’d tell me when you're ready."
I shook my head, marveling at him. "What's it like to go through life without worrying about anything?" I asked him. I was only partially joking.
"Nice." He screwed the lid onto the Thermos and came over to stand next to me. "You ready to go?"
"You're going to take me into the woods. Where there is dirt."
"I'm a dirty boy, I guess." He slung a heavy arm across my shoulder.
I inhaled in spite of myself, loving the smell of his soap still strong from the shower, the clean scent of his detergent, the underlying warmth that was undeniably him. "You smell pretty good to me," I told him. "Not dirty at all."
He looked down at me, and an odd little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I stared at that tiny white scar, and before I could stop myself, I was reaching up to brush my thumb across it. "How did you get this?" I whispered.
He turned his head slightly, and as he did, my thumb dragged across his Cupid's bow before he parted his lips and took my thumb gently between his teeth. I inhaled sharply, a slow ache beginning deep inside of me.
"Fishhook," he murmured. I barely heard the words. The only thing in the world was the way his lips felt as they closed around my thumb. In a trance, I brought my other fingers up to his mouth. He closed his thumb and forefinger around my wrist and turned my palm up against his lips, kissing down to my wrist where the pulse beat as fast as a hummingbird's wings.
"I got an audition," I blurted. My words tumbled out as fast as my heart raced. "A callback for Skyline Drive. Because they saw the video. I wanted to thank you...I wanted to tell you in person...I wanted to say how grateful I...oh..." His hand had slid up my arm and down my shoulder to cup my breast as I spoke. His thumbnail lightly raking over the tip of my nipple made me shiver and sag against him.
"That's great," he murmured into my neck.
>
I could barely catch my breath. "It is… I just wanted to… Tell you that…"
He snaked his hand behind my head, lightly grasping my hair at the roots and tilting my face up to his.
"I told you. You're incredible," he growled, before slamming his lips into mine.
Chapter Thirty
Rane
I could have carried her right upstairs to her bedroom. I knew she wouldn't stop me. My entire body was taken over with the explosive need to be inside of her again. To feel the way she clamped down on me as she came, her whole body wracked with spasms of pleasure that she had no prayer of containing. I wanted to see her undone again.
But for the first time in my life, I didn't just go for it. I could make this better than just a quick fuck in the hallway, a rough tumble in her bed. There was a place I knew, an overhang, with an incredible view of the shore below, secluded and off the beaten path. I thought of her, splayed out in front of me, her freckled skin almost glowing in the sun, the feel of the open air against our naked skin, her cries echoing off the canyon, filling our ears with music. I thought of her hair, the color of sunset, below a sunset, and for the first time in my life, I wanted something badly enough to wait for it.
"Hold that thought, Princess," I told her.
She mewled a little in protest. "You…" She exhaled.
"Me," I smiled, taking her hand. "Come on, save your energy. We have some hiking to do."
"You do that to me, and then you want me to be able to walk?"
I shot her grin. "Pull yourself together," I intoned. She glared at me. "There you go," I teased her, moving in front of her and holding open the door to my Jeep. "If it helps to be pissed at me, I promise you I will make this worth your while."
She grumbled and sat back in the seat, but I could tell I had piqued her interest. "So," she said, brushing her hands down her dress. "Fishhook?"
I shook my head, laughing. "I was ten. Literally the only time I've ever fished. Keir got his hands on some gear somehow, and we went tromping off to this polluted stream that ran through the crappy park by our house. I don't know, I guess we thought we were explorers or cavemen or something, but we had no idea what the fuck we were doing. Keir cast and instead of hooking a fish, he fucking hooked me. Then he panicked and yanked it back out again." She clapped her hands over her mouth and made a little gagging sound. "Blood was everywhere," I continued, "and my dad was pissed that we called him out of work to take me in for stitches." I laughed again at the memory of our father just shaking his head over and over again, like a metronome. "My dad's disbelief at our stupidity was a recurring theme of my childhood."
