“Lately, yes.”
She laughed, low and husky. I loved the sound of her laugh and her voice. Both turned me on.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, then sighed, the air drifting over my chest like a kiss.
“I haven’t been with anyone else since we, ah, started this, Maddox.” She paused. “Or for a long time before, if I’m being honest. I know I’m clean.”
“Neither have I. I’m clean as well.”
“I get the shot.”
My cock twitched at her words. “Are you saying we can go without condoms?”
“If you wanted, yes.”
If I wanted?
My cock wanted. In fact, he wanted to go for it right now. From the heat of her body molded to mine, she wanted it as well.
Still, I wanted something more and knew how to get it. I had to seize the moment when Dee’s defenses were down and she was oddly vulnerable.
“I meant what I said earlier, Deirdre.”
“Which part?”
She knew damn well which part. “That it’s me. My cock. My body. If we’re together, then it’s only me.”
She lifted her face, and I met her gaze in the dimness.
“What if I said I expected the same of you?”
“You already have it. I would never be with someone else. That’s not how I work.”
She frowned. “I’m the same way, but I don’t do relationships, Maddox. You know that.”
“Stop fooling yourself, Deirdre. We’re in a relationship.”
“I don’t date,” she insisted, stubborn as a child being told something they didn’t want to hear.
I scrubbed my face. “I hate to break it to you, my lovely. We’ve been dating the past few months.”
She sat up, clutching a pillow in front of her like a talisman. “We have not!”
I sat up as well, grabbing her shoulders. “Listen to me. We’ve been having dinner, meeting with our friends, talking on the phone, texting. Having sex.” I dropped my voice. “Amazing, crazy sex. Neither of us is seeing anyone else. Now we’re talking about unprotected sex because it’s the next natural step. Whether you like it or not, we’re in an exclusive relationship.”
She gaped at me, making me laugh. I ran my fingers over her cheek.
“Relax, Dee. I’m just pointing out the facts.”
“I don’t—”
I held up my hand, interrupting her. “I know, you don’t believe in love. I don’t either,” I lied. “However, there is nothing wrong with admitting we’re together.” I warmed to my plan. “In fact, it would have a lot of advantages.”
“What are you talking about?”
I leaned against the headboard, trying to appear casual.
“You know, you’re not the only one struggling with Cami’s sudden marriage. I know she’s worried about you as well.”
“What does that have to do with your sudden revelation we’re in a relationship?”
I leaned forward, grasping her neck and kissing her hard. “We are, Deirdre. Maybe not a conventional one, but to us, it is a relationship. It’s our own version. Now shut up and listen to me.”
Her mouth formed an O at my words, but she didn’t say anything.
“Bent and Emmy are engaged. Cami and Aiden are married. They’re all in that stage where they think love is the answer to everything. They’re constantly trying to throw us together. And it’s going to get worse. So let’s beat them to it.”
“Beat them to it?”
“Let’s date. Openly.”
“I. Don’t. Date,” she hissed out through tight lips.
I waved my hand. “Nothing changes. We see each other. We fuck. We text. We simply let them see it now—well, maybe not the fucking part.” I winked. “If they think we’re following in their footsteps, they’ll stop trying to interfere.”
She huffed out a long breath. “That sounds dangerous.”
I shrugged. “Nope. The added bonus is that it will comfort Cami, thinking you are happy. She can relax a little.”
She flopped against the pillows. “So, what, you want to walk into Bentley’s place and announce we’re dating?”
“No.” I chuckled. “We can be subtle. A kiss here, a look there. When they ask, which they will, we can say yes, we’re seeing each other.”
She was silent for a minute, her fingers worrying the fringe on a pillow.
“I don’t believe in love, Maddox.”
I gritted my teeth to stop the words, “You will soon enough,” from coming out.
“No one said anything about love, Dee. I am simply asking you to be faithful to me, and I will to you. If we’re exclusive, then why not call a spade a spade? It’s not as though I’m asking you to marry me.”
She shuddered visibly. “That isn’t something I can ever see happening for me.”
“I know,” I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “You’ve said so many times.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why do you want to do this?”
“I like you,” I stated honestly. “You get me. You make me laugh.” I drifted my hand over her shoulder, stroking her smooth skin. “Sex with you is fantastic. The best I’ve ever had.”
“The best,” she whispered, nodding in agreement.
“We get along well, Dee. Whether you admit it or not, we’re already involved. Call it what you want in private. Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, booty calls—I don’t much give a fuck. I still want to call it dating in the real world.”
“What if I decide I don’t want to?”
My heart skipped a beat and my neck broke out in a sweat, but I couldn’t tip my hand. “Then we call it off.”
“So we’re at a standoff?”
“Are we? Is the idea of holding my hand or saying the words ‘my boyfriend’ so abhorrent to you that you would rather walk away from a good thing?”
Her voice rose. “You want me to call you my boyfriend?”
Her reaction amused me. I fell back on the bed, laughing. “Of everything I said to you, that’s the thing you react strongest to?”
She grinned, looking abashed. “Sorry. This has come out of left field.”
I pushed up on my elbow. “No, it hasn’t. It’s been simmering below the surface for a while.” I swallowed. “I’m not asking you for a lifetime, Dee. I’m asking for right now. Knowing we’re together, as lovers at least, would help me.”
At least, for now. I didn’t add.
“How?’
“I like control and order. All the undercover stuff is wearing.”
“You are very controlling when we’re in bed.”
I kissed her bare shoulder. “You like it.”
“I like order too.”
“I know.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Nothing changes except a label, right? You aren’t suddenly going to expect me to be at your beck and call? Or tell me what to do?”
Those questions I was able to answer honestly. “No—I have no desire to change you, or us. I don’t expect you to put restrictions on me either. The one thing I expect is for us to be exclusive.”
“What about when it ends?”
The urge to inform her it wasn’t going to end was strong. Again, I bit my tongue and lied.
“We know it’s only sex. What our friends think, what the world thinks, is another matter. One we won’t concern ourselves with right now. As for the future, we’ll take it as it comes.” I held out my hand. “So, girlfriend?”
She looked at my extended hand and slowly raised hers, letting me grasp it tight. “Boyfriend.”
“Excellent.”
“Can we fuck now?” She grinned widely. “Bareback?”
I was over her in a second. “Fucking right we can, Deirdre.”
I drifted again, Dee draped over me. I liked it and decided it was going to be a fringe benefit of our new arrangement. It would be one of my favorite parts. That, plus fucking her without a condom.
Messier, but holy hell, it felt incredible.
/>
Her warmth. The feel of her tight pussy holding me snug. The slickness and softness of having my cock buried inside her. The intensity of feeling, really feeling, her muscles gripping me.
I had never known anything like it.
Judging from her reaction, neither had she.
It had been fast and hard. My control was lost the second I slid inside her, and I didn’t give a flying fuck.
It raised fantastic to an entirely new, mind-blowing level.
Her voice startled me.
“Can I ask you questions now that you’re my boyfriend?”
I peered at the clock to see it was after four. Neither of us was getting much sleep tonight.
“You can ask me anything.”
“Why is control so important to you?”
All the breath left my lungs in a fast exhale. Of all the things she could have asked, that was the most personal. I contemplated telling her to ask something else, but I realized if I wanted a relationship with her—not the pretend-for-the-world one I told her we should have—but the real, committed kind of relationship, she had every right to know. At least part of the story.
“It stems back to my childhood, Dee.”
She shifted, gazing at me. “Can you tell me?”
“My father raised me. He wasn’t a kind man. He drank and was bitter that my mom was gone.”
“When did she die?”
I sighed, pressing my lips to her temple. “Let me tell the story, okay?”
Her thumb went to her lip the way it did every time she was upset. I pulled it away before she could worry it with her teeth. I wrapped my hand around hers, holding it tight.
“When I was younger, my father was distant but all right. He wasn’t prone to hugs or cuddles. My mom, on the other hand, loved both. She hugged me all the time. At night, we’d cuddle. She’d read to me and stroke my head.”
“What happened?”
“I was always an odd child. My father called me difficult. I needed order and quiet. When things were chaotic and loud, it bothered me. I preferred a book and my own company to other kids. My mom got that—my father hated it. He constantly tried to push me into sports or group activities at school. I failed miserably every time. They would argue, and he would storm away. My mom never left, though. She always stuck up for me. She knew what I needed. I kept my room neat. My toys tidy and in their places.” I paused, lost in memories. “My father thought I was ‘challenged’—his word. My mother said I was simply unique. Either way, I caused a lot of trouble.”
I pressed her face to my chest, not wanting to meet her gaze anymore.
“When I was seven, my mom died in a freak accident. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck. When I came home from school, I found her.”
“Oh, Maddox.”
“My father didn’t handle it well. It turned out, he had never wanted kids, but he let my mother talk him into having one. Me. I was nothing but a disappointment, and he blamed me for her death.”
“How? You were seven and at school!”
“She was making me a surprise—my favorite cake—and was carrying it down to the extra refrigerator in the basement when it happened. I remember there was icing all over the stairs. I think it fell from her hands, and she slipped trying to save it or when she went down to clean it up.”
“Not your fault,” she insisted.
“No, I know that. But my father disagreed. After that, he gave up pretending to like me. It was as though he made it his mission to make me miserable. He knew I needed order and quiet.” I sighed as I thought about it. “He made sure I never got it. We moved all the time. He liked to throw out things I liked, so I learned never to show emotion. He would move furniture around to upset me. He kept the TV or radio on all the time. Loud. He tossed out books and mementos to upset me. There was never any peace.”
“What an awful man.”
“I will never let someone have the sort of power over me again that he had. He knew how to hurt me, and he did it as often as he could. He enjoyed it. If he knew I disliked yellow, he’d paint the walls that color to upset me. If he knew I liked apples, none was ever in the house. I hated dirt—being unclean, or the place we lived in filthy. He’d go for days without showering, knowing how much it disgusted me. He never once cleaned anywhere we lived. Either I did it, or it didn’t happen. He loved to mess it up because of the way I reacted, even though I tried not to.” I shook my head at the unpleasant memories. “I slept on the floor for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep on a bed. I had to hide anything of value or that I loved. He would even destroy a book if he thought I liked it.” I blew out a long breath. “And he lied all the time. At first, I believed him. He would trick me into things. Lie about why there was no money or food. Where we were going. Why my toys were gone. Why he lost another job.” I lowered my voice. “Why I deserved it when he hit me and told me I was the biggest mistake in the world and he’d trade me for my mother in an instant. He said he wished I had died that day, not her.”
She stiffened and I felt the wet of her tears on my skin.
“Every place we went, I had to adjust. Find a pattern and routine. As soon as I did, he would yank me away, and we’d start again. His drinking got worse, the jobs paid less. We went from houses to apartments, then to rooms. Those were the worst. I had no way to get away from him, except to hang out at the library. There, I could lose myself in books, work on homework. It was my only peace.”
“How did you survive it?” she asked, her voice choked.
I shrugged. “I just did. When I was old enough, I got a job cleaning in a store after school. I found my birth certificate in a metal box he always took with us wherever we moved, and I went to the bank and opened an account in my own name. Every penny went in there so my father wouldn’t know. He didn’t care where I was as long as I wasn’t there. I learned to rely solely on myself. I knew I had to be the one to get away from him—from the hell he made my life.”
She looked up, her eyes glassy and sad. “And you did?”
“When I was fifteen, he got too decrepit to push me around. He could still be verbally abusive, but he could barely get out of his chair anymore. I would go to school, to work, and I would study hard every day. Every weekend. I stayed as far away from him as I could. Most nights, when I could, I would sleep under the bleachers in the gym or hide in the library and sleep there. I did everything I could to stay away, going back occasionally to check on him. I graduated early, and I left that little town and that poor excuse for a father behind me.”
She laid her head on my chest, tracing a finger over my skin. “You came here to Toronto?”
“Yes. I could lose myself here. No one cared where I came from or my history. I found a bookkeeping job, a small place where I could sleep and eat, and I worked my ass off. I got a scholarship to university, and not long after that, I met Bent and Aiden.” I drifted my finger down Dee’s arm. “I don’t know where I’d be without them.
“All my life, I learned to control things, Dee. My emotions, my mouth, my brain, my instincts. I never showed emotion because it egged him on. My happiness had to be eliminated. My fear made him happy. My tears were his victory. So I stopped showing anything but indifference. I learned, by controlling my environment, I was calmer. When I surrounded myself with order, I could think clearer. I think that’s why I was drawn to numbers. They make sense. They never lie. I control how they work, how they are arranged, and the outcome.”
“And your personal life?”
I smiled. “Yes, I like to control that too. When I was in university and that side of my life opened up, I found it overwhelming. It took me a long time, but I discovered when I was in control there, I enjoyed sex and it was a great release for me. I went through a few phases and I dabbled a little, but I found my place.”
“Dabbled?”
I didn’t want to get into that part of my life or relive memories I had buried. Telling her wouldn’t do any good. It was over.
“Just a figure of speech. I think we all dabble until we find what is good for us. I’ve been with women who don’t like my control and some who do. Everyone has a different version of what works for them. Control is part of me. Part of who I am.”
She traced lazy circles on my chest, her touch light. I realized it was the longest we had ever talked about anything so personal, and the longest time we had ever stayed together after having sex.
“I like your control.”
“Good thing. Especially now we’re dating.”
She smacked my chest. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Oh?”
She lifted up on her elbow, meeting my gaze. The intensity of her look took my breath away. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m sorry your father was so horrid. I’m sorry you lost your mother and you struggled all your life. It’s unfair and appalling.”
“It is what it is. It made me who I am today.”
“I like who you are.” She inhaled, then sighed out a long breath. “I like having you here with me.”
I knew that was a huge concession for her. I cupped her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Is your father . . . ?” She let her question trail off.
“He died not long after I left. He died of a stroke in his chair. Without me checking on him every so often, he wasn’t discovered for a while.”
“Gruesome.”
“Fitting.”
I stared at the ceiling. “Bent and Aiden helped me loosen up. They gave me my first real home and a place to simply be Maddox. We became each other’s family. I learned to laugh and relax. To be part of a friendship—a team. They accepted me, faults and all, and I accepted them the same way. We respected each other’s boundaries. Even with my best friends, however, I can only give up so much control. I will always need some form of it in all aspects of my life.”
“I understand.”
I rolled, facing her. I wiped away her tears. “Please, don’t.” I hated to see her cry. It happened so rarely that when it did, my heart split in two.
“Have you ever told anyone else?”
“Aside from Bent and Aiden? No.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Maddox ~ Melanie Moreland Page 6