by A. L. Zaun
I was different, he’d told me.
That had been the reason he could share everything about himself with me. I understood him and his passion to create great cuisine. I could relate to the Kingsley’s family drama and being the outcast of the group. I was like no one he’d ever known. He often asked me where had I been all his life.
Then, nothing more had happened.
Jonathan wouldn’t allow it. He was an employee at my grandfather’s restaurant. He needed his job. Most importantly, I was seventeen, and he was thirty.
Lying on my bed late one night, my history book had been tented open on my chest. I couldn’t concentrate. Things between us had gotten too intense for him. He’d felt things for me he didn’t think he should. He’d wanted more for me.
I’d decided to stay home to study rather than go to Mark’s, my usual study spot. I couldn’t be around him and not want to look at him or talk to him. He’d wanted space, so he had gotten it.
Alex had called earlier to see if I was alive or if he should send a floral arrangement to the nearest funeral home. He’s such a dick.
My grandmother, always perceptive, had come to check on me. She’d brought me comfort food—a piece of cake. “Chocolate fixes everything,” she’d said, sitting next to me. “Boy trouble?”
“Silly crush.” I’d shrugged as I’d dug into the cake. “It’s a rite of passage that every teenage girl must go through. Life is full of disappointments. I can use them as a stepping stone or be buried under it, but I won’t be defined by it.”
The familiar ringtone on my phone sang Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love.” The cake had toppled over and fallen on the floor as I’d jumped to grab the phone off of my nightstand.
My grandmother had laughed while I’d composed myself and waved her away.
Before I could say anything, I’d heard his desperate voice.
“I can’t do this. Please, baby, I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I was wrong. I can’t sleep, eat, or think. I need to see you. Give me another chance to do this right.”
I’d snuck out and taken a cab to the address he’d given me. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know—not yet. As soon as the cab had pulled up, I had seen him waiting for me downstairs. Before any words could be shared, he had pulled me into him and held me in a tight embrace. The moment his lips had touched mine, I had known I would be his forever.
He’d made love to me that night. With each kiss, caress, and stroke, he’d spoken words of adoration. He’d worshiped my body, taken his time, and stripped away the cynic that I had been. I’d cried out his name in release, clutching him close to me. I couldn’t get enough of him. I’d needed more. I’d needed him to touch me, hold me, and kiss me. He’d held my heart that beat only for him. He’d made me believe that I was loved.
I had been starved for his affection and the glances he’d give me. I’d craved his loving words and the stolen moments we’d share. I’d longed to feel him inside me as he’d filled me and made me feel whole.
We had been together every chance we’d gotten after that. I couldn’t stay out late every night, so we’d meet before he had to go into work. On his days off, I would run over to his apartment, and he would cook for me. Most of those evenings, he’d hold me in his arms after our lovemaking, and we’d talk about what our life would look like. We’d have a restaurant together. He’d be the executive chef, and I would be the brains and beauty behind it. He’d bring me in closer and whisper sweet nothings filled with promises of a future—a life where we would shout from the rooftops how much we loved each other.
After almost six months together, I had a surprise for him. At his apartment door, I set down the bags to search for the key. Jonathan was running late, but he’d left the key under the mat for me. Picking up the bags, I fumbled with the lock, pushing the door open with my hip. As soon as I walked through the door, I was startled. The bag slipped from my hands as the tomatoes splattered at my feet and salad greens spread across the floor.
I froze in shock. I blinked my eyes, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. She stood in front of me with wavy, thick, dark hair pulled away from her face with a headband. Her dark eyes were puffy and tired. Her body was voluptuous, curvy in all the right places, and on her hip was a baby who was the spitting image of Jonathan.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” I asked as calmly as possible.
Her eyes scanned my body from head to toe. “Who am I? How old are you?” She lifted up her left hand to stop me from saying anything, and then she rolled her thumb around her ring finger that was exquisitely adorned. “I don’t want to know who you are because you’re just a cheap little whore who entertained my husband while I was home, taking care of our child. I know who I am. I am Theresa Kingsley, and this is our son, Jonathan Michael Kingsley, the third.”
I stood, paralyzed. She’s telling the truth. She’s lying. This was a joke. Jonathan would set all of this straight. She’s crazy, suffering from postpartum depression and making all of this up. He had told me everything. He had opened up his heart and soul to me. He’d told me he loved me, he needed me. I’m entertainment. I’m a whore. He loves me.
Suddenly, the door flung open with an enthusiastic Jonathan. Instantly though, his face fell and he froze, just as I had. “Theresa, baby—fuck.”
Both of us turned our attention to him. His eyes widened in shock.
He went to her, but she recoiled from him, turning her back and clutching the baby. He took their son from her arms, and then he held her as she cried and pounded his chest. He led her to the couch, and I stood there silently, numbly, watching the train wreck that my life had instantly become.
Her gaze shifted to me. “Why?” she whimpered. “How could you?”
He rubbed her back, soothing her with his words. He kneeled in front of her, begging her, tears streaming down his face.
I watched in horror as the man I loved, loved someone else.
Love was an illusion, I abruptly realized.
He glanced back at me. Our eyes met for a moment, and I saw fear, regret…shame. Then, rather than slumping in anguish and defeat, I straightened my shoulders as I’d done so many times before. He had my heart, but he would never have my dignity. With that thought, I turned and walked out the door.
I went straight home and into the shower. I stood under the water and allowed myself to feel the devastation as I crumbled into a mess on the tile floor.
My fingers tightened around his as my beating heart threatened to burst out of my chest. I bit my lip, securing the sob that begged to escape. My walls of impenetrable indifference were no match for the emotions created by these two men, my grandfather and Rick. I loved them both more than words could ever express.
I was Madison Stuart. I shouldn’t be intimidated and scared out of my mind, but I was. He’d caught me off guard with those three little words, sending butterflies swarming in my stomach and fear to pulsate through my veins. Those were words had been said to me by very few people—my grandmother, grandfather, and Jonathan. I’d thought I was fine, not hearing them regularly. I had been confident that my professional success and dabbling sexually in human contact would satisfy that vacancy. I was wrong. I felt like I was in a snow globe that had been turned upside down and shaken. Eyes forward, I hoped I’d magically calm down, and the tears clouding my vision would disappear.
For years, I had pushed down my emotions, hurts, and disappointments—hiding them deep within the recesses of my soul. I’d built a fortress around my heart to keep out anyone who threatened me. Rick had climbed over my walls and invaded my thoughts, my body, and my heart.
“Let go, Madison,” he prodded, his voice gentle and very unlike Rick. “I’ll catch you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave him a sideways glance. A single droplet broke free from the corner of my eye.
He kissed my tear on cheek. “I love you,” he whispered again.
The words were on the tip of my tongue. My heart was beg
ging me to blurt them out, but I couldn’t. He didn’t know what he was saying. I wasn’t the type of woman men loved. I was the type they fucked. I had been content with that until now. I closed my eyes, frustrated with myself. I was doing it again, putting up walls. I was keeping the hurt out but not letting in Rick. I didn’t know how to do it differently.
Let go…I’ll catch you.
When I opened my eyes, his hazel ones were trained on mine. His hair was disheveled from the countless times he’d run his hands through it since we’d left. He looked absolutely delicious. A warm current flowed through me, and I felt flushed.
“Marin, you scare me.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t like not having control. You shake things up and turn them upside down, and you’re messy.” I slowly blew out a deep breath and glanced away, willing the trembling in my legs to stop. “I’ll always do right by you.” I looked back at him, knowing that at the end of the day, I’d put him first. I always had.
His lips were puckered in defiance as he placed his hands on my waist. “I’m not messy. One time doesn’t make me a slob. Get over it. You’ve seen my car, my condo, and the way I dress.” His smile widened to a dimple-popping grin. “I gotcha, babe.” He tucked my hair behind my ears. “No need to be scared.”
Of course, he didn’t get it. Emotionally, he was messy. He pushed me out of my comfort zone of no attachments. I wasn’t scared. I was petrified, and I hated that feeling. I hated that fear held me captive, that it dominated me. I loathed that something had power over me and that I felt helpless when what I wanted was within reach.
I’m Madison Stuart. I live life by my rules, and I’m in love with Rick Marin.
I brought my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his. My fingers toyed with his hair. “I want to go home.”
“No more stops, I promise. Straight to your place,” he said as the elevator doors opened.
“I mean, home. I want to go back to Miami.” I paused, avoiding his eyes. “With you. Tomorrow morning. Patrick isn’t going to do anything for me. I need to pick my battles and my priorities.”
He took my hand and led me to the car where Nelson was standing next to the open door. I looked behind me at the closed elevator. My chest tightened, and I could feel my eyes tearing up again. I hated that I’d spent any time being upset with my grandfather today or that I’d believed that he’d betrayed me. I’d allowed Alex to poison me with just enough doubt to make me question my grandfather’s motives. Now, regret tormented me with lost time and an opportunity gone.
“I’ve always hated leaving my grandfather,” I admitted as I climbed into the backseat. “I feel like I’m abandoning him to this lonely existence. I should have stayed in New York, but I couldn’t. I’m like him, you know.” I reclined against Rick.
“You do realize that this came out of left field, right?” He pulled me close to him. “You’re not abandoning him, and he’s not lonely.”
“He chose Mark’s over us. I’m doing the same thing.” I ran my hand over the bracelet. “He loved her, worshiped her in fact. He bought her a bracelet a lot like this one. It was the first gift he’d ever given her. She wore it every day and never took it off. They loved each other in their own unique way. He loved her even when he didn’t show it. He was supposed to come with us to Florida, but he didn’t. He visited instead. If she ever doubted his love for her, I didn’t know it. She loved us both in spite of our flaws. He’s all I have, but I still leave him.” I lay my head on Rick’s shoulder. “I don’t want to say good-bye to you.”
“Shh…then, don’t. It’s that easy,” he told me before kissing my head.
I looked out the window at the familiar sights, my childhood passing me by. I was contemplating the great questions of life while thinking of nothing at all. This wasn’t home anymore, but Mark Stuart would always be my life. And Rick was…
Let go, Madison. Just fucking let go.
“Rick,” I said, breaking the quietness of the drive.
“Yeah?” he answered groggily.
I turned to face him. His head rested on the back of the seat with his eyes closed. I ran my hand along his two-and-a-half-day-old beard. “You need to shave.”
He opened one eye in mock hurt. “You love the wolf-pack look and feel.”
“Wolf pack, yes.” I brought my fingers to his chin. “Chia Pet, no. If you’re going to be seen around town with me, you need to clean up your act. We also have to work on this domineering behavior of yours. I’ve never tolerated your machismo, and I’m not about to start doing it now.”
His lip curled slightly. “Are you trying to turn me on? Because it’s working.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
I couldn’t say it. I wanted to. I did. I would…when the time was right.
***
The alarm buzzed on my phone at the god-awful early hour of four in the morning. My body was sore and heavy from a night of lovemaking with a little fucking thrown in for good measure. Rick had made up for lost time, and I secretly couldn’t get enough of him.
My eyes struggled to open. I stretched my hooked leg down Rick’s calf as I reached across his chest to stop the annoying sound threatening our peaceful slumber. I was amazed that he hadn’t even flinched. Phone in hand, I lay back down next to him, nestling in the crook of his arm. We had a few more minutes before we needed to get up and out to catch our six o’clock flight back to Miami. I wanted this moment to last for as long as possible.
I slowly ran my fingertips along his chest and down the outline of his abs, remembering last night when we’d walked through the door and straight to the bedroom.
We’d both been emotionally drained from an exhausting weekend. I tossed my coat over the chair in the corner, and then I pulled off Rick’s. I’d begun kicking off my boots when he brushed my hair off my shoulders and nipped my neck, running his tongue along my ear.
“Maddy, does anyone ever take care of you?” He slowly peeled off my clothes and kissed my bare skin as his hands gently caressed my body.
My eyes closed as I melted into his touch. “You do,” I told him, leading him to bed.
He loved me with his body. I cherished him with mine, telling him what my lips weren’t ready to share.
I sighed deeply at the memory as a sweet smile spread across my face. “You’ve ruined me, Rick Marin,” I whispered to my sleeping beauty whose breathing was slow and deep. “I don’t know how you got through my walls, but you broke through and sold me on the idea of love.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I believe it can be real now.” I placed a light kiss on his shoulder. “It’s not something I say randomly or to just anyone.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “But I do…I do love you.” Leaning over him, I placed a kiss on his forehead, and then I tried to nudge him awake.
“Say it again,” he mumbled with sleep in his voice. His lip pulled to one side in a devious grin. Then, he grabbed me and pulled me on top of him. “You can pretend I’m sleeping.”
I felt the heat from the flush covering my face. I smacked his chest and struggled away from him. “Let me go. You’re such an asshole.”
He kissed my shoulder. “But, babe, I’m the asshole that ruined you.” He playfully rolled me onto my back, running his beard along my jaw. I felt tingles in my core and warmth radiated through my body.
“It’s liberating to say it,” he encouraged.
I writhed under him, wanting to give into him completely. Our eyes locked, and I saw the urgency he had in them. He needed to hear it. I needed to say it. I blew out a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I licked my lips as his mouth grazed my cheek.
Then he told me, “I love you, Madison. You don’t have to say it again. I know you meant it when you said it the first time.”
Relieved and still flushed, I wiggled out from under him. “Come on, we have to get ready to leave.” I grabbed his shirt and slipped it over my body. “For the record, you’re an arrogant son of a bitch. You have no idea what I
feel, and I sure as hell don’t need your permission to say or not say something.”
He followed me to the bathroom, wrapping his arms around me. I rested in his embrace and gasped as his hands caressed my breasts.
“I love holding you like this. I love the way your body falls back against my chest and your ass rubs my dick.”
“So romantic, Rick. Panty-dropping.” I turned on the water. Slipping out of his shirt, I stepped into the shower. “We’ll be in Miami in less than a few hours, and you’ve already reverted to the same asshole who left.”
“You know, babe…” He stepped in behind me as he lathered my back with the body wash. I whimpered in approval, bracing myself against the tiled wall. “If I say that romantic stuff, you tell me that I’m a sap.”
His hands traveled along my arms in slow, rhythmic circles while my head reclined against his shoulder. The steam, his touch, the vibrations of his voice against my neck created a headiness in me.
“If I tell you what I’m really thinking, you call me an asshole.” His hands came along my chest and over my breasts, causing me to moan in pleasure. “The way I see it, I’m never going to win with you.”
His hands traveled down my stomach and along my hips. My legs spread of their own volition. “I love the way your body responds to me.”
He moved closer, pressing himself against me, as his hands massaged my inner thighs. I reached my hand behind me, touching his leg, needing to feel him.
“Those sounds coming out of your mouth make me want to pin you up against this wall and slide inside you.”
I turned around, bringing my arms around his neck. “Can we take a later flight?” I mumbled the words between breaths as his hands toyed with me.
“You like it when I touch you?” he growled, pressing his erection against me.
“You know I do.” My hands slid down his chest and wrapped around his hard dick.