by Lauren Rowe
“Jesus. How long has it been since you saw this guy?”
“Almost three years,” she chokes out, wiping her cheeks.
“Three years and you still cry over this guy?” I whistle. “Ho-lee shit. He must have really done a number on you.”
She bites her lip.
“You loved him, huh?”
She nods, sniffling.
I take Maddy’s cheeks in my palms. “You gotta move past this, sweetheart. I’m telling you—it’s holding you back.” I look into her Tootsie Pop eyes. God, she’s so adorable. “Justin didn’t know what he had, okay? That’s all there is to it. It’s no reflection on how awesome you are—how beautiful you are. He was just a stupid, young, clueless dumbshit, that’s all. Take it from me; I should know—I’m king of the stupid, young, clueless dumbshits.” I smile again, but it’s no use. Water’s streaming down Maddy’s cheeks in a torrent. Oh, fuck. She’s breaking my heart. “Jesus, Maddy. What the hell did this guy do to you?”
Maddy shakes her head and doesn’t speak.
“Did he cheat on you?”
She swallows hard. “No.”
“Then, what?”
There’s a long beat.
“Did he say something horrible to you? Something that rattled your self-confidence? Because if he did, it wasn’t true. You’re amazing.”
Maddy’s gorgeous face is trembling in my palms.
“Maddy, for fuck’s sake, what’d he do to you?” I ask, the hairs on the back of my neck rising up. “Tell me.”
Maddy lets out a long, shaky breath and blinks hard—sending big, fat tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. “He died.”
Chapter 46
Keane
For the past twenty minutes, Maddy’s been quietly telling me the story of the horrific car crash that took Justin’s life along with the life of the other driver, and the whole time she’s been talking, I’ve been sitting on the bed, my heart racing and my thumb up my ass.
“I still think about the moment of impact every day,” Maddy says softly. “Every time someone drops a glass in a restaurant or slams a car door in a parking lot, I’m right back in that moment.” She closes her eyes. “I can hear the sound of metal twisting all around me. Glass exploding. And then eerie silence.” She opens her eyes again and sighs. “I still can’t make sense of it, to this day. One minute we were driving along, listening to music, chatting about our plans for the weekend, and literally in the blink of an eye, without any warning at all—without either of us anticipating the impact even for a split-second—the world was suddenly exploding around me like a bomb had gone off in the car.”
My heart is panging. I can’t stand thinking about Maddy experiencing something like that. Wordlessly, I pull Maddy down from a sitting position to lie with me on the bed, stretching her body alongside mine, until we’re lying nose to nose and looking into each other’s eyes.
“You know how in movies they always show car crashes in slow motion?” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Or how people say time slows down when something traumatic happens?”
I nod, nuzzling my nose into hers.
“For me, that’s not what happened at all. It was just... blam! One second everything was calm and happy and normal and uneventful, and the next second, I was pinned inside this twisted metal coffin, unable to move, unable to think or feel or process. There was no in between—no time during which events unfolded, you know? We were happy and fine and listening to music and then he was dead and I was trapped in the car with his mangled body. I remember I looked over at Justin and...” Her face contorts with pain. “I was gonna ask him if he was okay, but then, when I saw him, there was absolutely no doubt he was already gone.”
I hug her to me and she melts into me, crying.
“Were you... ?” I begin, stroking her back. Shit, I don’t even know where to begin. “Did it take a while for you to get back in the swing of things?”
“Yeah. The accident happened at the start of my freshman year at U Dub and I wound up taking that entire year off. That’s why I’m only a junior now. I should be a senior.”
“Do you... think about him a lot?”
“Every day.” She looks thoughtful. “I’m not saying he was necessarily gonna be the great love of my life forever and ever, you know? I have no idea about that. Would we still be together to this day if he were alive? I think about that sometimes and the answer is: I have no idea. But I know that I loved him with all my heart and he loved me.” Tears flood her eyes and she wipes them. “And I know I haven’t been able to feel that same way about anyone since.” She takes a shaky breath. “You know how you said Zander unleashed your inner Peen and you never stuffed that fucker back in again?”
I nod, my heart panging, my skin suddenly prickling with goose bumps.
“Well, Justin did that for me—he unleashed my inner Maddy. The only difference is that, when Justin died, I immediately stuffed that fucker back in—way, way in.” She pauses, her lower lip trembling, her eyes glistening.
There’s a long beat.
Maddy takes a deep breath. “Until you,” she adds quietly.
Every hair on my body instantly stands on end.
Maddy lets out a shaky breath. “You’ve unleashed my inner Maddy again.”
I don’t know what to say in response to that, so I do the only thing that makes sense to me: I grab her and kiss the living hell out of her, pressing my body into hers in a flash of heat and want and near-desperate need.
At the first touch of my lips on hers, Maddy ignites in my arms, her lips and tongue devouring me, her breasts pressed feverishly into my chest, her arms wrapped around my back, clutching me to her.
“Make love to me,” Maddy whispers.
In a flash, our underwear is off, a condom is rolled onto my hard-on, and I’m inside her, holding her in my arms and kissing the salty tears off her wet cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my body moving on top of hers, my hands exploring her warm skin, my lips covering every inch of her salty face. “You’re so beautiful, Maddy. Inside and out.”
Oh God, being inside Maddy feels different this time. She doesn’t just feel good—or even amazing—it’s more like her body was custom-made for mine. I’ve never felt this way during sex before. I’m not fucking this girl—I’m consoling her, stroking her very soul with mine—willing her to wholeness. I kiss and suck on her lips as her hips move with mine, my fingers greedily stroking her skin as she gyrates beneath me.
When I’m on the cusp of climax, I pull out of her, hungry for the taste of her, aching to make her feel awesome, and I proceed to kiss every single inch of her, from her breasts and belly to her hips and thighs, and finally to the folds between her legs. By the time I get to her clit and lick her ever so gently, she’s gripping the sheet and whimpering, arching her back, and shuddering.
I make a guttural sound. She tastes so fucking good. I can’t take it anymore. I’m hard as a rock, aching to get inside her and feel the way our bodies fit together again. But I refrain, lapping at her, swirling her tip in my mouth while stroking her wetness firmly with my fingers.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. “Perfect.”
Maddy arches her back and screams my name and the muscles gripping my fingers begin clenching and releasing rhythmically.
I crawl back up to her face and kiss her passionately as my cock burrows deep inside her—and the moment I’m nestled all the way in, I feel like I’m home.
A jolt of electricity flashes through my entire body that makes goose bumps erupt on my arms and neck. I cup her cheeks in my palms as I kiss her, my thrusts becoming more passionate.
“Maddy,” I whisper, looking into her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispers, though what she’s thanking me for I have no idea. I grab her thighs and yank them up around my torso, and she moans at my new angle of entry into her body. With each thrust of my body, each swirl of her tongue with mine, my heart feels like it’s reaching out t
o join with hers. I touch her face again, my passion reaching its boiling point.
Oh, shit. I need to go deeper. I hitch her legs even higher around me, folding her body underneath me, grinding myself into her, splitting her in two, and she shudders with pleasure and yearning. But she’s not coming for me a second time.
In one swift movement, I rearrange us, seating myself onto the edge of the bed, positioning her on top of my cock, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck, her lips locked with mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, gripping her hips and guiding her pelvis in movement with mine. “Perfect.”
Oh, fuck. I can’t get enough. I feel like I’m in a frenzy, out of my head with desire. My thrusts are increasing in intensity, my kisses becoming desperate. Her movement on top of me is frenetic. She’s fucking the shit out of me, sucking on my lips, snapping her hips forward and back as she rides me. I reach down and touch her clit and she explodes in my arms, twisting and howling and crying with her orgasm.
A few more thrusts and I come inside her, so hard I’m seeing little yellow dots.
After we’ve both stopped moving, and the room is filled with nothing but our mutual ragged breathing, I kiss her neck and suck on her earlobe and nipples and devour her breasts, swirling my tongue along her jawline, biting her shoulder, not ready for whatever just happened to be over just yet. When my lips finally meet hers, we kiss so passionately, I feel like I’m gonna pass out. Ho-lee shit, my heart’s racing, knocking against my chest like it’s trying to crack my sternum and leap into her chest cavity.
What was that? Nothing in a single instructional video I’ve ever watched prepared me for sex like this. Everything I’ve ever watched has shown me where to touch—how much pressure to apply—how fast to move my fingers and tongue and cock to bring a woman to the Promised Land. But nothing’s ever prepared me to feel this way while fucking a woman—to want to heal and protect her and make her heart stop hurting. To make her all mine.
Oh, shit.
I think it’s distinctly possible I’ve really fucked up here.
“Maddy,” I whisper, my heart lurching into my throat.
Maddy nuzzles her nose into the crook of my neck and presses herself into me, exhaling. “Keane,” she purrs into my ear. She skims her lips along my jawline. “You’ve unleashed me, baby. I’m brand new.”
Chapter 47
Maddy
Tuesday 10:34 p.m.
For the umpteenth time tonight, I grab my phone from next to me on the bed and check to see if Keane’s answered any of my texts. Nope. Still nothing.
I look at my watch. Where is he? And why hasn’t he at least texted to tell me about today’s auditions? I close my laptop and rest my head on my pillow, my eyes weary from the hours of editing I’ve been doing while awaiting Keane’s return from his big day.
I look at my phone again. Nothing. God, I’m actually starting to worry.
All of a sudden, the image of Keane sitting lifeless in the twisted remnants of Fish’s car (which Keane borrowed today) flashes across my mind and my stomach clenches violently. Quickly, I force that horrible vision out of my head... but it’s immediately supplanted by another horrible image: Keane having sweaty, grunting sex with some boobalicious girl he met at one of his auditions today.
I close my eyes and put my hands over them. Son of a biscuit-eating bulldog, make it stop.
Keane wouldn’t do that to you, I think.
Why not? my brain responds to itself. You’ve been assuming exclusivity during this fling-thing, but you two never explicitly agreed to that.
Oh my god, the paranoid side of my brain is right: Keane and I never talked about exclusivity. Which means there’s absolutely nothing to keep Keane from running off for a “marathon sesh” with any of the tiny-waisted, big-boobed Southern California hotties he undoubtedly met today, all of whom probably threw themselves at him without shame. Really, what’s to stop Keane from banging any girl he meets, anywhere, any time, regardless of our fling? Keane’s certainly been clear he’s not looking for a relationship with anyone, including me. For the love of God, he’s been very, very honest with me: I’m the girl he considers to be nothing more than his friend. His friend with benefits. Also known in some circles as a “fuck buddy.”
My stomach revolts. Oh my God. I feel sick.
What the hell have I done?
I can’t be somebody’s “fuck-buddy,” not even Keane’s! Wait, no, especially not Keane’s! How can I be Keane’s “friend he sometimes fucks” when I feel so deeply for him? Oh, God, wait. I feel deeply for Keane?
All of a sudden, the truth is slamming me upside the head. Having sex with Keane without any kind of commitment hasn’t made me feel like a man-eater the way I thought it would—it’s just made me crave something real with him... which is something he’s been clear from the beginning isn’t something he’s willing to give me.
Oh, God, I’m so screwed.
I swear I had the best of intentions when I suggested this “friends with benefits” arrangement to Keane, I really did. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to trick or change him. But that’s life for you—it’s full of surprises. How was I supposed to know I was gonna unburden my soul on the guy on Sunday night and tell him things I never tell anyone? Or that he’d respond to the unexpected baring of my soul by making love to me in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone—with the kind of breathtaking tenderness and passion and beauty I’d only ever dreamed of experiencing? Talk about a “quiet moment of magic.”
I rub my forehead, panic flooding me.
Oh man. This is so not good. Keane’s definitely not feeling what I am. Keane hasn’t told me that, of course, but it’s suddenly clear to me Sunday night had the opposite effect on him as it did on me. Yep, in retrospect, it’s so damned obvious the guy is freaking out. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it before now.
When I woke up on Monday morning and nuzzled into Keane, aching for a repeat performance of the prior night, he pulled away from me and leaped out of bed. “I can’t,” he said, his massive hard-on contradicting his words. “I’ve got a meeting with my new agent first thing this morning.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s exciting.”
“Yeah,” Keane continued. “I’m gonna meet with him this morning about a bunch of auditions he’s got lined up for me, and then I’m gonna hit the gym for a marathon work-out sesh this afternoon.” He patted his rock-hard abs. “Gotta keep my moneymaker in top form.”
“Oh, sure, no worries,” I said. “I’ve got plenty to do. I’ve gotta buy my books for all my classes and then I’m attending this transfer-student orientation thing on campus. Plus, I really should start editing Dax’s video. It’s gonna be a big job.”
“Cool. So I’ll see you later, baby doll?” Keane said.
“Sure,” I replied, my eyes trained on his huge boner. “But, um, you’re sure you don’t have a little time to...?” I asked, motioning to his hard-on.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he replied. And that’s when Keane kissed the top of my head with a curt “See you later, sweet meat” and headed into the bathroom, his gorgeous ass teasing me as he went.
Okay, I thought at the time, so there’s not gonna be an immediate sequel to last night’s soul connection. No big whoop. This isn’t a fairy tale—it’s real life. And in real life, people have shit to do.
So I didn’t sweat it.
Of course, not. Because I’m not insane. Shit happens.
But when everyone converged on our two apartments later that evening and our whole group went out to dinner, there was no mistaking Keane’s aloofness. He didn’t secretly hold my hand under the table or rub my back or rest his hand on my thigh, or do any of the little things I’ve grown accustomed (and addicted) to him doing. And yet, I shook it off, figuring we’d go back to my apartment and bone the fuck outta each other, Lionel Richie style.
But when we got back from dinner, Keane plopped himself onto Dax’s couch to watch Inceptio
n with the guys, despite the fact that I’d texted him five minutes earlier to say: “Hey, hot stuff, you ready to make me scream?”
But, again, I shook it off. Keane just hasn’t seen my text, I thought (which isn’t a crazy notion when talking about Keane Morgan). So I sat down next to Keane on the couch, snuggled close, and watched the damned movie, figuring we’d go back to my apartment after the movie and bone the fuck outta each other, Lionel Richie style.
But we didn’t.
Unfortunately, Dax and Keane fell asleep together on the couch like two puppies in a litter before the movie had even ended—and since Dax’s head was resting adorably on Keane’s shoulder as the two of them snoozed, I couldn’t figure out how to wake Keane without waking Dax, too. So I put a blanket over the two of them (after taking several photos of their adorableness) and went to bed alone.
But this morning, when I crept into Dax’s apartment intending to wake Keane up and motion for him to sneak into my room for a little bonin’ sesh to start the day off right, I was surprised to find him already dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, quietly eating a bowl of granola while Dax and the other guys slept soundly in the bedrooms.
“Hey,” I whispered, sitting down next to Keane at the table. “I was hoping you’d come find me this morning. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great,” Keane said. “Sorry. I just needed a little quiet time to myself to get my head in the game before all my auditions today. It’s gonna be a big day.”
“Oh, yeah, of course,” I said, suddenly feeling stupid for not appreciating the stress Keane was feeling. “If you need me for anything, just lemme know.” I put my hand on his and squeezed, and his face softened.
“Thanks, Maddy,” Keane said, his eyes actually focusing on mine for what seemed like the first time since Sunday night. “You’re the best. You really are. You’re incredible.”
Relief flooded me. I’ve been imagining the weirdness between us, I thought. Keane’s just been stressed out about his auditions. His distance hasn’t been about me at all.
