“I’m here,” he echoes.
Blinking fast, I take the chance to look up at his face. “Why?”
Without warning, he yanks me to him, and I gasp when he pushes me up against the bookshelf behind me and traps me there with his body. Sweeping a large hand behind my hair, he takes a strong, possessive hold of my nape and lowers his head until his breath fans my partially-opened mouth. “Because I want a kiss.”
Yes! Please, yes!
I anticipate the urgent brush of his mouth on mine like it’s a drop of water after years and years of drought. “I want you on my tongue, Aylee.”
I don’t fully grasp the implication of his words. All that matters to me is him satisfying the craving I have for his drugging kiss. I lift my head up more, close my eyes, and wait…and wait…and wait...
He chuckles softly, “Not here, for now.” His thumb glides along my bottom lip in a sweet, torturous caress. “Turn around,” he commands but doesn’t give me the chance to do it myself as he turns me to face the bookshelf. “Don’t move,” he adds hoarsely. His heavy breath along my ear produces a slow crawl of heat low in my abdomen.
I feel the absence of his warmth instantly and I want to turn around so badly to see where he’s gone or what he’s doing. But something keeps me from doing so.
So I wait and ask instead, “Wha…what are you doing?” My voice quivers in a whisper only to choke on a gasp as I feel his strong, firm hands at the waistband of my dark blue maxi skirt and then slowly he tugs it down. A current of cool air in the room sweeps across my exposed butt cheeks. Reaching down, I slam my hand on his to stop him from going any further.
“Maddox…” The stop catches in my throat at the feel of his soft, warm lips whispering along the curve of my butt. His fingertips skim up the sides of my trembling thighs and slip beneath the band of my cotton panties. With his breath steaming-hot along my cheeks, he slides the panties down my legs in a languorous motion and they fall on top of my skirt, pooling around my feet on the carpeted floor.
Panic has my head moving left and then right out onto the open aisle. The sudden idea of someone walking by at any moment to find me with my skirt down, my bottom half exposed, and Maddox on his knees behind me shoots the most electrifying thrill down my spine, invoking a soft moan.
Good Lord, what’s wrong with me? Do I actually want someone to see us?
Yes.
The answer is a dark little whisper in my mind. It ripples like a caress through every crevice in my body.
This is scandalous.
Wicked.
Wrong.
But how can something so wrong feel so intensely right? So astonishingly good? If this is sin then I’ll gladly burn for just a stroke of his tongue along my most intimate place. For him, I’d burn for eternity. I want his touch. I welcome it, crave it, in fact.
It takes everything I have to fight the impulse not to look back. But I need to. I have to see what he’s doing. “Maddox…someone might come.” I look over my shoulder and down to find him staring up at me, a devilish grin pulling at the corners of his wicked mouth, while pure mischievousness glints in his smoky gray eyes.
“Yes you will,” he murmurs, “I’ll make damn sure of it.” The promise in his voice melts me.
My breath tap-dances in my lungs, coming out hot and fast against the books in front of me as I feel the all-too-thick intrusion of his finger slip between the V of my slick flesh.
He makes a guttural sound and it’s so primal, so animalistic that everything female in me responds to it, my core throbs reflexively, my breasts grow fuller, and my nipples pucker inside my bra, demanding the warm relief of his mouth. “Damn, Aylee,” he says, throatily. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.” His finger glides up and then down, and up and back down, playing in my slickness.
“Arch your back and stick your ass out for me,” he directs silkily, masterfully pulling on my strings. Pushing slightly against the bookshelf, my back bows and I thrust my hips back for his total enjoyment.
He grabs the globes of my butt between his hands and parts my cheeks, stripping me completely of any sense of modesty. And then him breathing me in, his face so close to my swollen, pulsating flesh is…indescribable. When his mouth touches my lips, my knees weaken, and it takes gripping the shelf to keep myself upright.
He kisses me there where wetness drips like honey. He uses his tongue that’s so hot, so wet, and so firm to slowly, thoroughly eat me. He feasts on my flesh like it’s ambrosia from the gods. He’s in deep, and I’m bent practically in half, my butt cheeks spread wide. Soft, gasping moans tumble free from my open mouth as I try to pull away from how intense it is. But his grip is so strong that it keeps me exactly where he wants me. My entire universe condenses down to where his beautiful tongue nibbles, licks, and flicks over the incredibly-sensitive nerves of my clitoris. Pleasure I’ve never known, so fierce and astonishing, wrenches a stunning cry from me as my body spasms from my incredible release.
My knees buckle and this time I don’t have the strength to keep myself up. But then he’s there. Strong, muscular arm encircling my waist as he holds my body tight against his. He turns me to face him and covers my mouth with his in a hungry, toe-curling kiss. I taste my essence and I taste him, and the combination of us is deliciously intoxicating.
Chapter 21
Aylee
Later, we’re in his apartment. Leaving the library had been one of the most embarrassing things I’d ever had to do. The instant Maddox and I came down from the stacks, I immediately knew that everyone below had heard my scream of pleasure. While Maddox waited for me outside the library, I hastily packed my things and with an extremely red face, said goodbye to my study group. Just before we left school, Maddox asked if I was able to paint anywhere. With the simplest reply that I could muster, he helped me lug my supplies to his truck and drove us to his apartment. We’ve been working on the painting for the last two and a half hours. We’re taking a small break before getting back to it.
While I wait for him to come back from the bathroom, I sit on a chair in front of my easel, staring at his likeness emblazoned across the canvas. It’s not nearly as close to the real thing, and I’m starting to realize it never will be. Maddox Moore is too much of a force to be captured in a medium. But what I have is turning out to be one of the best renditions of him I’ve ever done. He’s in there in slashing brush strokes. Crimson red and white, and then there’s the negative space in the shadows that creates the illusion of destruction. He’s a god in my painting.
Ares.
Fearsome. Insatiable. Dangerous.
“Magnificent,” I murmur in a daze as he walks within my line of sight. My mouth goes dry as I stupidly stare at him. He should be modeling, I think inanely. Underwear, jeans, skin maybe? It doesn’t matter so long as the option of much clothing is denied to him.
Only Maddox can turn a walk into a statement of sexual rebellion. Barefoot, and with a bare chest, he struts around his apartment with dark-rinsed blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Too low. He has his hair up in a ponytail, making his high cheekbones more pronounce, his stare more intense. I flush and duck my head when we lock eyes. The way he looks at me with such unrepentant thoroughness has me going up in flames. The scene in the library crashes on me like a monsoon. God, all the ways I let his glorious mouth and tongue feast on me. Thinking of it even now, hours later, and my body still tingles. It felt amazing because I wanted his touch. I still do.
“Say something?”
I hear his throaty chuckle. Shaking my head, I mutter, “No.”
“You hungry?”
He heads to the kitchen and I hear pots banging. Raising one knee up on the chair, I nod before setting my chin on it. “You cook?” I ask with a smile.
He grins wryly. “Shocking, isn’t it?”
“A little, yes.”
“I’m no culinary chef, but I’ve learned to make some pretty good stuff.” He gathers ingredients from the fridge and grabs a bottle of beer while he
’s at it. “My mom…she was a great cook.”
Intrigued by the chance to learn even more about him, I ask, “Did she teach you?” I pray the question doesn’t cause him to retreat.
He takes a long swig from the bottle and then, “When she could.” He shrugs, setting his beer down on the counter to grab a butcher knife from the drawer beside where he’s standing. “It was one of the only things that made her really happy. She wasn’t happy a lot of the time. But when she was cooking…yeah, she came alive for a little bit.” There’s so much emotion in his voice, so much pain when he talks about her, even from here I can feel it.
I’m on my feet and at his side in seconds. I say nothing because sometimes silence is so much more profound than words. I simply rise on my toes to gently kiss his cheek before setting my head on his arm. And he lets me. We stay this way for a span of a small eternity. I stand as his crutch, letting him know I’m here for him, to give him whatever it is he may need. My reward, the only indication that he accepts my silent support and comfort is when he swings his arm around my shoulder. He gathers me close where I fit up against him so perfectly it astonishes me. Guiding my head to his chest, his one arm still firmly wrapping around my shoulders, he encircles my waist with the other and places the sweetest kiss on my head. My eyes fall shut and I sigh softly. Nothing and no one can take away this bliss from me.
We fall into a rhythm. He cooks while I chop and dice the ingredients he needs. It’s so natural the way we move around each other, so much so that it feels like we’ve been doing this for ages. He takes every opportunity to touch me, to kiss me. I feel wanted. And the happiest I’ve ever been. He stands behind me now, nuzzling my neck, rotating his hips so that I feel the thickness of his bulge between the crease of my buttocks. I moan, instinctively thrusting my hips back as I nearly chop my finger off.
“Careful, Aylee,” he tsks, taking the knife from my hands and setting it far away from me. “I like these fingers.” He breathes against my ear, and taking my hand, he brings my fingers to his lips and takes my index finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it and I quiver.
God, the things he does to me.
Releasing my finger, he takes my chin and turns my head up to gain access to my mouth. I taste the beer he just had. I taste the dark potency of his desire. I taste him. It’s a heady flavor that lingers on my tongue and coats my taste buds. He pulls away and leaves me breathless. Twitchy. In desperate need of something I can’t quite name. But it’s there, I know it, it’s just simply out of my reach. Like an itch you can’t scratch.
The food, stir-fry chicken with vegetables and a side of white rice, though delicious does very little to satisfy the itch. I’m on edge and I don’t know why, but with every breath-stealing kiss from his lips, I grow anxious.
“So how do you want me?” he asks when we’re done eating.
Naked and on top of me.
Heat explodes in my cheeks and I blink at him, mortified that I might’ve just said that out loud. Relief washes over me when he simply stares back with a slight lift of his right brow. “Um…just how you were sitting on the futon.”
The unexpected chime of my phone has me running to my backpack. I’m so grateful for the save. I find it in the outside pocket and stare down at the screen. It’s the alarm reminder showing me I have group therapy in ten minutes.
Honestly, I haven’t forgotten. I’m just thinking I won’t go. Not only do I need to finish the painting, but everything in me is fighting the idea of losing my time with Maddox. God, I’m not nearly ready for this day to end. I’m willing to do just about anything to prolong it.
Rising from my kneeling position on the floor, I turn to him. “I need to make a phone call.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You good?”
I nod, running a hand through my hair. “I just need to let my mom know where I am.”
“You need me to drop you off?”
“No!” It comes out too quick, a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of leaving him. “No, I won’t be long. Just need some privacy.”
He stares narrowly as me for a few long seconds before pointing to one of the rooms behind me. “There’s not much space for privacy, but you can use my room. Second door on the left.”
“Thank you.” And I walk away in a rush before I say anything more to embarrass myself.
When I enter his bedroom, I mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to do. I chew nervously on my lower lip as I bring my phone to my ear.
Three rings and then, “Hi, sweetheart, I’ll be there to pick you up—”
“Actually, Mom, Mallory’s going to pick me up. She’s been having a really tough time at home so she asked if I could spend the night.”
I’m holding my breath throughout the long, pregnant pause that follows. Anxiety has my heart racing and my palms sweating. I’m sure she knows I’m lying. “I don’t know, Aylee…your father…”
“Please, Mom? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. She just really needs me right now.” It’s astonishing how externally calm I am. There’s not even the slightest quiver in my voice to give me away.
But I’m crossing everything. Fingers, toes, and my eyes, for good measure.
A long, heavy sigh and then, “All right, I understand, and you’re a good friend for wanting to help that girl.” I notice how she says that girl. There’s an edge to it. It’s nothing new however, considering she’s never been overly fond of Mallory. Not a lot of people are. “Aylee, this has to be the last time in a long while, okay? We don’t want to make your father too angry.” No. We wouldn’t want that. The thought produces a bitter sludge of anger in my throat.
“Just tonight.”
The lies are easy to believe because to her I never lie. I’m good girl Aylee. Reserved, spineless, and so easily malleable.
“Okay, I love you. Be good.” Like I know how to be anything else. But then I’m learning, aren’t I? If this is what being bad feels like then I gladly relinquish my good girl badge right here and now and claim my bad girl crown.
I send a quick text to Mallory so she’ll cover for me, and instantlyreceive a message saying:That’s fine. But I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t bother to reply. I’m not so bold as to invite myself to spend the night with Maddox, and have every intention of asking him to drop me off at Mallory’s, just…later. Much later.
As I look around, it suddenly dawns on me exactly where I am. I don’t know why it thrills me so much to be in his bedroom, but it does. A bed, dresser, and closet to the left sum up the things in the small space. But everything here is his. He’s touched it, worn it, rolled in it, and slept on it. Maddox is everywhere in this room. Taking a seat on his bed, I tentatively grab the sweater strewn on the edge. Bringing it to my face, I inhale deeply, soaking my senses in the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Like an addict overcome with her drug of choice, my eyes droop shut as I fall back on his bed in sweet, sweet delirium.
Eventually I make my way back to the living room. I’m a little lightheaded and giddy, as if I have alcohol swimming through my veins. But I’m only assuming this is what being drunk feels like, considering I’ve never had any alcoholic drinks before. I find him by the partially opened window near the kitchen; he’s on the phone, in motion, pacing back and forth in an unhurried gait. In three–fourths profile, the sun dies beautifully behind him, and as though even it can’t resist Maddox, it stretches out brilliant rays of dimming sunlight just to touch the young god in a mortal body. He really is too beautiful for words. Rushing to my canvas, I pick up my brush and palette and jump into action with instant inspiration. It’s a moment that needs to be captured.
When he’s done with his call, he pockets his phone and heads my way. “Be right back, need to check something.”
With a frown, I ask, “Is everything okay?”
He nods. “Work.” It’s a terse response; he doesn’t see the need to elaborate further as he walks away. My eyes trail after him until he disappears in his bed
room.
With every minute he’s away, I grow tenser. Worrying the corner of my lip, I wonder if I’m overstaying my welcome. Am I making a mistake by inviting myself to stay here longer than he wants? I abruptly come to my feet. I head to his kitchen to clean my supplies. If he intends on kicking me out, I want to at least be prepared. Tucking my palette in the large inside pocket of my canvas bag, I grab my damp brushes from where I set them on the floor next to me and put them in as well. All this takes approximately five minutes and in that time frame I’m trying not to picture what he’ll say when he comes out of his bedroom. I don’t want to go. How big of a fool will I be if I blurt that out to him? Or worse, beg him to stay. Beg him to keep me here for as long as I want. Am I that shameless?
Reclaiming my seat on the fold-out chair in the middle of the living room, I cross my legs as it suddenly dawns on me that yes, I am that shameless. I would do all those things. Beg him to stay. Beg him to keep me for himself in this apartment. And that scares me more than anything. I scare myself when it comes to this guy. All the things I’m willing to do with him, for him, they’re limitless. He makes me feel limitless. With him I’m experiencing emotions I’ve never felt before and they’re all as exhilarating as they are frightening.
He moves so silently I barely hear him until it’s too late. From behind me, he cups my jaw and tilts my head back far enough that I have no choice but to look at his face. He wears his mask of impassiveness but in his fierce, gray eyes I see everything he cannot outwardly show. It’s rampant emotions head by barely bridling passion that instantly ignites a searing blaze inside me. He languidly traces his thumb across my bottom lip, a tender gesture I note he reserves just for me, tugging it gently down to expose my mouth. “Beautiful lips,” he remarks in a rough, throaty murmur.
He bends down, eclipsing everything. He’s all I see. All I want to see. There’s no gentle coaxing when he spears between my parted lips to invade my mouth with a warm tongue that entangles with mine. He kisses me long and he kisses me slow, each time dipping in for more, and my body’s temperature spikes to such a degree I can no longer ignore how damp my panties have become. “How far do you want me to take this?” He respires against my lips and tingles run freely throughout my entire body. He’s asking for my permission.
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