It was a long time before they could breathe, much less move. Then she felt his forehead press against her shoulder, and his breath was cool against her overheated skin.
“Why did you have to be scruffy?” she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion.
He stilled behind her. She looked over her shoulder, wondering when she’d lost what was left of her mind. He rolled them both to their sides and left her dozing while he slipped away to the bathroom.
He was surprised she was where he’d left her, sprawled and sated against the tangled sheets. Her black hair fell like shadows across the pillows as she watched him walk towards her. He could feel her gaze moving over his skin. He could feel the pleasure she took from just looking at him. He felt like he could conquer the world when her eyes skimmed over his body that way.
Or at least be her adoring sex slave while she conquered the world. He didn’t care which, as long as she let him stay.
She turned to her side when he slid in next to her so they were facing each other. Her index finger traced along his bottom lip before flicking the silver loop he’d meant to take out.
He kissed the tip of her finger. “You like my bling; admit it.”
“I do.” She slid her hand down to thumb the barbell that pierced his cock. He loved that she was so fascinated with it. “Now, seriously, tell me why you did this.”
He was too tired to avoid the question this time. “I had a Prince Albert. I figured I was already halfway there.”
She squeezed hard for his non-answer. He hissed and closed his eyes. He wanted to stay like this forever, with her hands on him. She knew just where to touch him, just how much pressure to apply, and how hard to scratch him right where he wanted. She owned him, and he was past caring.
“Why did you get the Prince Albert?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but it took a long time for him to answer. He covered her hand with his to stop her. It was the only way he could form words. “Because it was something I knew my brother would never do.”
“Well, that’s definitely true. I can’t imagine Grant—” She stopped as laughter bubbled out of her.
“I don’t think body modification goes very well with political campaigns.”
“You think he’ll run for Senator?”
Jared nodded, rolling to his back, pulling her across his chest. “Yeah. It’s what he and my father have always wanted.”
“He’ll be good at it.” She traced the black spiral that swirled across his pectoral muscles. “But it won’t give him much time to practice law.”
“That’s another reason my dad wants you on board. Sticking a spike in your grandfather’s eye was the cherry on top, but they’re hoping you can help with the caseload.”
“I wish I could help, but I can’t.” She lightly scratched her nails against the scruff on his jaw, and he felt like a cat, wanting to lean into it and stretch his entire body under those nails. “Now tell me why you really got the apadravya.”
“Law school,” he admitted. “I did it before I started law school so I wouldn’t forget who I am.”
“And who are you?”
He laughed. “I haven’t got a fucking clue.”
She grinned back at him. “Why did you go to law school when it is so obviously not you?”
“Obviously?” he laughed. “I’m a Marshall. That’s what we do, right? Practice law.”
“But it’s not what you want to do.”
This conversation was getting way too intense. He rested his arms on his knees as she came up next to him, pressing her mouth against his shoulder before curling in next to him.
“No, it’s not.” His head dropped, and he sighed again. “But it doesn’t matter what I want. I’m in it. Grant’s had all the responsibility on his shoulders for long enough.”
“What does Grant say?”
“To run while I still can,” Jared laughed.
Madlyn moved around to face him. On her knees, between his legs, the moonlight streaming through the window sheers, it was easy to forget who she was. He reached out to push the glossy black hair behind her left ear, wondering how he’d missed how beautiful Madlyn was. Relaxed with all her hard edges gone, she looked younger, almost delicate, and very touchable. He wanted to keep her like this forever.
“Tell me about pastry school. Did you go because you wanted to or because you knew Jen wouldn’t go if you didn’t?”
He stiffened at her sudden perceptiveness, a stark reminder of who and what she was.
“Are you deposing me?” he teased, but the question was serious. She was up to something. This sweet, fluffy version of her was an illusion, and he’d almost been sucked in.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” She tapped his cheek with her index finger. “Jen would never have gone overseas by herself, certainly not against Stefan’s wishes. You went for her.”
“She needed the space.”
Madlyn nodded. “And Stefan needed to wake up.”
“Yeah.”
“Even though you wanted her for yourself.”
“No, it wasn’t like that…okay, maybe a little like that.” He’d never admitted that to anyone, and it caught him off guard. Long fingers curved around her upper arm and pulled her towards him. She went stiff, then relaxed against his chest, her hair silky under his chin and her breath warm against his chest. “I do love her, but I was never in love with Jen,” he said gruffly, trying not to purr as her nails played across his chest.
“You’re sure?” The question was oddly breathless.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
She was silent for a few minutes, then swung again. “Tell me about your band. How did you meet Adam?”
Jared paused, not quite sure where this new line of questioning was going, but he liked the way she’d cuddled deeper into him. Nothing else seemed to matter while he got to hold her like this. If she asked for his banking passwords, he’d probably give them to her. So he played along. “His mother and Grant’s wife had chemo at the same time. We met at the hospital.”
“You were at the hospital while your sister-in-law had chemo?”
He nodded, tightening his arms around her. “Yeah. I didn’t want Grant to be by himself.”
“And you and Adam got to talking and…”
“No,” Jared laughed lightly. “Adam didn’t talk to anyone back then. Look up ‘introvert’ in the dictionary and there’s a picture of Adam Granger. Girls think he’s all deep and mysterious, but he’s just shy.”
“And now he fronts an indie band every Friday at Trick’s and played with Marcus Napier earlier at Chat Bleu? How did that happen?”
“He had all these notebooks he was constantly scribbling songs in. He dropped one, and I couldn’t help myself. There were pages of the most incredible music. He’s a freaking genius, Madlyn, you have no idea.”
“Oh, I heard him play Dobro tonight. I have some idea.”
Jared glanced down at her. “Dobro? You know what that is?”
“It’s a resonator, isn’t it?”
And Jared fell harder for her. “Yes, a vintage one actually. He only plays it on special occasions.”
“Like when internationally famous rappers return to New Orleans and ask him to play with them? But that doesn’t explain why you were up there.”
“Moral support,” he said carefully. “Adam wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.”
“You’re a nice guy, Jared Marshall.”
“Ah, great. Can you say that louder? They didn’t hear you on Magazine Street.”
She laughed, leaning up and kissing the underside of his chin. “I like nice guys,” she admitted, biting at his chin.
“We’re delicious?”
“Well, you are,” she teased, leaning back so he could kiss her lightly on the mouth.
When he raised his head, her teasing expression had turned serious.
“You like to be needed, don’t you?”
“Are you still trying to find my weak spot, Maddie?”
“I’ve already found several.” Her smile turned sad. “It was easy. You think I need to be saved.”
Fingers teased down his chest. She was moving in for the kill, and he was determined not to let her have it.
“I don’t need you to save me, Jared.” She eased closer, her mouth hot on his skin. “But I do want you here. There’s a difference.”
She pushed him back against the pillows, throwing her leg over him until she straddled him, balancing herself with her palms on his stomach. “Do you get the difference?”
She was such a fucking liar. But only to herself. The knowledge soared through him. She’d lied to herself so long, she’d forgotten who she was.
But he could see her. Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t fooling him.
Her expression changed, the last of the playful light going out. “Tell me you aren’t trying to save me.”
The pain in those words sparked off him like electricity.
“I’m not.” He curved his hands around her hips, steadying her. Holding his breath so he wouldn’t jerk her forward and try to suck all that pain out of her with his mouth.
“I want you,” she whispered, closing that trap even tighter around him as she followed up the lies with the truth. “Not the lawyer or the scorching hot musician or the cheesecake shaman. Just you.”
He nodded, something sharp and beautiful breaking free inside him. His palms slid up her sides, then around to her back. He wound his arms around her and pulled her against his chest so he could kiss her. Off balance, she couldn’t stop him from rolling until he was on top.
“All you had to do was ask.” He grinned. “And newsflash, Madlyn, I don’t want to save you.” His voice was husky as he pressed his mouth to her forehead. “I don’t want to change you.” He dropped another kiss to her jaw, licking across that smooth line. “You’re perfect.” He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her throat, smiling and nipping at her when she arched into him. “Claws and all.” He groaned against the slope of her left breast as her nails raked up his back. He arched into the sweep. “Especially the claws.”
She arched up again, and he got his hands under her then so he could keep all her softness against his burning hot skin while he sucked the tightly beaded nipple into his mouth. She whimpered, her nails digging in, and he sucked harder, losing more of his mind with each draw.
Then he indulged himself with more long, slow, trailing kisses, making sure he tasted every inch of all that creamy, ink-free skin. He wanted to mark her again but with his mouth this time and not the sharpie. He trailed small sucking kisses, some of which would leave tiny bruises in curious places. She whimpered more with each one, her nails marking him right back.
There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t soft and deceptively sweet. She was ticklish behind her knees. He found out when he lifted her leg and lingered there, torturing her until she pressed her feet into his chest to try and stop him.
He caught her ankle, raising up on his knees, grinning at the way she was sprawled back on the bed, her hair a dark cloud, her skin gleaming in the moonlight, one arm over her eyes as she laughed and tried to kick him away. That husky laughter momentarily froze him in place. He watched her, drinking in the unguarded moment of time where she smiled, laughed and worked her way so deep under his skin, he couldn’t imagine not doing this to her every single night and waking up every morning exhausted in her arms.
She lifted the arm over her eyes, and her expression faded to seriousness as she met his gaze. Then he saw it, that flash of panic as she realized she was not only physically exposed to him but emotionally as well.
“Don’t.” He moved over her until their faces were very close. “Close your eyes and stop thinking. You’re safe.”
She nodded, her lids lowering. He kissed each eyelid, not surprised at the salty moisture trapped in her lashes.
“Madlyn.” He whispered her name, gathering her close to him as she trembled. So much vulnerability. So much pain. She did need him, if only for lashing out at. It would always be like that with her. Two parts ecstasy. One part anguish. He didn’t care. The pain made the ecstasy sweeter.
He trailed his mouth back down, lingering on the soft swell of her stomach until her hands were at his head, urging him down, and her legs eased apart for him. And Jared made sure she stopped thinking for the rest of the night.
Later, he surfaced from an unexpected sleep. He eased away to duck into her bathroom for that shower he’d wanted hours ago. He liked her bathroom because it was so unexpected. All soft pastels, aqua, and pink. The only trace of red was the silk kimono robe hanging on the back of the door. It was one of the few rooms in the house that was finished, and it gave away her softer side. From the floral shower curtain to the tiny pink soaps in a soap dish obviously made by a child. Seashells and glitter were stuck to the clay in haphazard fashion.
He smiled to himself. He’d met Robbie only recently when Stefan and Jen had gotten court-ordered Saturday visits. Robbie was a great kid, but he couldn’t imagine the boy putting glitter on anything. He looked closer at the name carved into it, his eyes narrowed as he picked the dish up for a better look.
The M wasn’t for Mom. Maddie was scrawled into the clay. Maddie? Robbie didn’t call her Maddie.
He flipped the dish over, and once again everything he thought he understood about the world changed. A heart was scrawled on the bottom of the soap dish right next to the name ‘Jen’ and the year she made it. It was dated a year before the accident that killed Jen’s family.
Jen had made the soap dish when she was ten years old.
Well, that explained the glitter. Jen liked to put glitter on everything, although now she used edible glitter. “The glitter,” she’d said when he’d teased her once about it, “is all the love I put into them so it can show on the outside.”
She’d been half-serious, so he couldn’t resist the crack. “And I thought Stefan was so sparkly because he was a vampire.”
She’d stopped brushing the glitter onto the flower and immediately thrown it at him. The glitter fight that had ensued had left permanent shiny scars in the kitchen at his loft. He was still finding glitter. There was no way to clean it all up. He was convinced it was spawning.
Now he stared at the sparkling soap dish. He couldn’t wrap his head around the reality of what he was looking at. A ten-year-old had made a girly soap dish for her brother’s girlfriend.
With a heart on it.
And glitter.
Glitter that showed the love that went into it.
Something terrible snapped deep inside him as he struggled to accept what he was seeing.
Until recently, Jen had hated Madlyn. Jen was jealous that Stefan and Madlyn had been together in college. She had never made a secret of how she felt about the Red Queen. She and Lizzie both despised her with the passion of a thousand suns and never hesitated to let anyone who asked know it.
He hadn’t imagined all that. He’d listened to Jen and Lizzie for years.
He stared at the soap dish as puzzle pieces swirled in his brain. Madlyn had been her babysitter. Madlyn had been engaged to Jen’s older brother. She wouldn’t have made this soap dish if she’d hated her at age ten. Jen hadn’t always hated Madlyn?
What had happened?
Electricity sizzled down his arms.
Jen had made the soap dish at age ten, a year before the car accident. Robert had died in that wreck, leaving Madlyn pregnant. She’d had the baby, given up custody, and gone back to college to start a relationship with Stefan. Then spent ten years making sure Robert’s sister hated her?
That didn’t make any sense.
And it didn’t gel with the woman sleeping nearby.
Nothing made sense. The car accident should’ve made them all closer. The shared tragedy should’ve solidified bonds, but instead it had ripped them apart.
More electricity sizzled through him. He was missing something.
Was she punishing herself, or was she hiding something?
/> Knowing her, it was both.
But what? She hadn’t been in the car that night. Why would she feel guilty for something she had nothing to do with? And what could possibly be so bad that she would spend ten years making everyone hate her?
Nausea cramped in his stomach, and his equilibrium took a nosedive as the real question formed in his protesting brain.
Why did she feel responsible for the car accident that killed her fiancé and his parents?
Because that was the only explanation for her behavior. She blamed herself for what had happened. Why would she blame herself for an accident?
Unless…
The pink shell soaps hit the sink a second before he stalked out of the bedroom. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to get the truth.
He’d enjoyed their little power struggle and letting her think she was in charge. He’d gotten off on her bossiness and her nails on his skin. He liked when she played with him.
But playtime was over. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t warned her once not to play her games with him. He’d told her she didn’t know who she was dealing with. That he could break her in half anytime he wanted.
He didn’t let that side of himself out very often. He might not be able to rein it in. He’d never wanted to be that guy. He preferred easy-going. He was happier being laidback fun guy. But not anymore. If she didn’t tell him the truth, didn’t let go of whatever had held her prisoner for the last ten years, then he would break her into as many pieces as it took to make her tell him the truth. Because, unlike the people who should have been there for her all those years ago, the ones who had no clue what had happened, the ones who bought in to her Red Queen bullshit, he would stick around to clean up the damage.
No matter what happened next, Jared wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter Fourteen
She opened her eyes, disoriented to find herself outside. A familiar breeze stirred her hair. Robbie was missing this time, but his father was still sitting next to her.
“Why won’t you ever look at me, Maddie?”
The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3) Page 17