by Dani Wade
Blake eased his upper body down, letting their skin touch. Then he tucked his mouth against one of her ears. “Hold on, Maddie,” he groaned.
Then he started to thrust.
Madison only thought she’d been breathless before. Now every movement forced the air from her lungs. Her body lit up like fireworks. Blake grunted every time their hips met. They strained against each other for that ultimate high. Snapshot sensations imprinted themselves on Madison’s mind: the slickness of his skin beneath her fingers; the sound of his voice in her ear; the exquisite pressure of him filling her full. Then he twisted against her and her world exploded.
In the quiet aftermath, listening to the sound of their breathing, it seemed cliché to say she would never be the same again. But Madison knew it to be true.
After long moments, Blake rolled to the side, pulling her with him. In those moments, she had no defense against him. No way to close herself off from the incredible fullness in her heart. Just as she drifted into sleep, she felt the warm pressure of lips against her temple. Blake’s words floated around her. “I’ll make sure everything is okay, Madison.”
* * *
Consciousness came slowly to Blake. Normally, he awoke with a start and was out of bed in seconds. Today, the dim light of dawn peeked through the windows as he blinked once, then twice. It took him a moment to realize that Maddie still lay in his embrace.
A first for him.
Usually, as soon as the sex was over, Blake was putting the boundaries back into place. Even if he had to manhandle them back into the grooves. But last night he’d barely slid off Madison, unwilling to get too far from the unbelievably silky skin and the delicate scent of her. He’d pulled her close enough to get the blanket out from under them, covered them with it, then hugged her against his chest in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He could tell himself it didn’t mean anything, but that didn’t change the truth. He was royally screwed.
She still slept deeply. He smoothed back the jumble of her auburn hair so he could see her face, long lashes resting against freckle-sprinkled cheeks. Her lips seemed redder, swollen from their kisses the night before.
He wondered what other evidence he’d left behind. He sure as hell wouldn’t be showing any of that to his father.
The memory of his old man left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could go for a cup of coffee...or three...or more. Maybe just the task of fixing it in an unfamiliar kitchen would help him to obliterate the thought of his father demanding proof of his progress?
He might need something stronger, he was afraid.
On his way downstairs, more things than he wanted to think about grabbed his attention. The cracked mirror behind the lamp on the little table in the upper hallway. The closed doors along the hall. Even though he didn’t want to, Blake forced himself to open one. All of the furniture had been pushed into the middle of the room and draped. The back wall, which should correspond to the back of the house, had old water stains running down the flowery wallpaper.
He closed the door with a quiet snick and continued downstairs.
A quick glance into a living area opposite the refurbishing room stopped him in his tracks. A worn sofa, rug and coffee table were pushed to one side of the admittedly large room. The other end was occupied by a hospital bed. Bile rose in the back of his throat as Blake took in the area that had been stripped of linens and personal effects, but still bore all the markings of an end-of-life experience. There was a stripped-down bed, a pole to hang fluids on, and what looked like a heart monitor machine on an otherwise plain end table.
While she’d gone to the trouble of cleaning up, Madison hadn’t dealt with the bare bones of her father’s last days. The thought of her having to deal with this with no support, no helping hands, devastated him. Granted, he hadn’t had a true “loved one” in his life, ever, but how had she continued to push forward, day after day, year after year, knowing that she would lose her father?
How devastating.
He forced himself on to the kitchen. Here the true extent of neglect showed in the daylight. Paint was peeling from the walls and windowsill. There was rust on the faucet and inside the sink. Cracks formed a latticework on tile countertop. Blake wasn’t an expert in such matters, but he would guess that the house hadn’t been properly maintained for a long time and had once been in impeccable quality.
That tile was Italian. The chandeliers were Toso. The kitchen faucet was originally an Axel. No one let that stuff go unless they had to...or strippers came in to take it.
Which could only mean one thing: Madison’s family had never sold the Belarus diamond.
Blake crossed over to the budget-brand coffee maker, contemplating the evidence literally before him. Why? Why in the world would her mother keep that diamond and not sell it when they obviously needed the money so badly? Selling that thing on the open market would have set them for life, even if her father’s illness had lasted thirty years. Why would she do this?
And what was he supposed to do about it?
This was the last thing he wanted to deal with after last night. As juvenile as it sounded, he wished he could spend his morning sipping coffee and thinking about how good last night had been. Especially if he wasn’t going to be allowed to repeat it this morning. But he couldn’t.
He had to think about Abigail, about what she was going through, about the fact that she needed him. How did he do that, rather than obsessing about where he went from here?
He hadn’t meant for whatever this was between him and Maddie to go this far. He’d planned to get what he needed with as little collateral damage as possible. It was the least risky way of saving Abigail. Despite that, he would never use Madison’s body against her.
He wandered back down the hallway to the living room, staring at the large expanse of empty floor between the pieces of furniture.
But now all he could think about was whether she would believe that was exactly what he had done, when the whole story came out. Because he had no doubt it would. He might hope that his father would keep his mouth shut, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Especially not if he couldn’t have his way.
“What are you doing?”
Blake whirled around to find Madison standing at the foot of the stairs. She had on a thin robe, thin enough for him to tell that she hadn’t put on her underclothes. Did that mean she was still open to being vulnerable to him? That was a precious gift Blake wasn’t sure he would ever get over.
“I was going to make coffee, then I got distracted.”
He knew it sounded lame but it was all he could come up with at the moment. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable by talking about the empty hospital bed in the room behind him.
She looked so small and frail with her arms wrapped around her ribs like that. He wanted to touch her, to hug her, but her posture was like one big Keep Away sign. She held herself stiffly, her body wound tight. Angled slightly toward him. He noticed she looked everywhere but at the bed.
He wasn’t sure how she could even stand to have it in the house, except she probably had no way of moving it. Madison was strong and capable, but not that strong...not strong enough to move that single-handedly...or without a truck.
And he found that he cared, he wanted to help her. Man, he was fully invested.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked.
“Not...really.” Blake didn’t understood where the odd question came from. Yes, he’d put on his clothes from last night. He simply wasn’t comfortable walking around her house in his birthday suit. He hadn’t come prepared for anything else.
She turned and started down the hall, her voice echoing behind her. “I’m sure you’re ready to get on the road,” she threw over her shoulder. “Clean clothes, a hot shower.”
Blake trailed down the hall behind her. What was up with all the questions about lea
ving? Was she really that eager to see him go?
He stepped through the doorway into the kitchen, where she had turned to face him, her arms crossed tighter than ever across her chest. He struggled not to look down at the effect that had on her breasts, instead focusing on her face.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” The word was more emphatic than it needed to be.
“You’re not going to offer me coffee?” Not that he cared, but he might as well test the waters.
“My father always said my coffee was horrible. You’d probably do better to stop somewhere on your way home.”
He was not buying this. He took a step closer to her. Then another. A broken tile shifted beneath his shoe. Madison glanced down, and her lips tightened.
So was it the house that was her problem? Or him in her house?
Blake took another step. Only this time, Madison stepped back.
He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her position. “What’s going on, Madison?”
Outwardly he projected calm, seeming in control of this entire situation. But inside, his temperature rose and his heartbeat sped up. He clenched his teeth on a jittery burst of panic. But he wasn’t about to walk away. Instead he moved closer.
He should walk away. He knew it. Without a doubt, he should obey the Keep Away sign and leave Madison to herself. He should walk out of this house and never think about her again, and never think about that stupid diamond. But he couldn’t.
So he locked away all thoughts of that beautiful jewel and focused on the beauty in front of him. He could divorce himself from his feelings, but then he wouldn’t know the pleasure that came with her touch, the comfort that came from her listening ear.
Selfish bastard that he was, he couldn’t leave her alone. “Madison, what is it, hon?”
As he came within arm’s reach, Blake couldn’t resist touching her. He smoothed his thumb across one high cheekbone. Excitement ratcheted up inside him, rapidly overtaking the panic.
Yes, he was definitely a bastard.
She turned her head to look away, only to flinch at whatever she saw. He followed her gaze to see the door to the pantry hanging crooked in its frame. As they stared in silence, the refrigerator struggled, its mechanical hum sounding strained. Blake let his eyelids drift closed for just a moment, wondering if somewhere in his shallow soul he had the words to make her feel better.
He used his hand to turn her head, guide her eyes back around to his. “Madison, it’s okay.”
She bit her lip, worrying it for minute before releasing the plump flesh. “No, it’s not.” She glanced up at him through her long, thick lashes. “You’re the first person to be in this house since the day my father died.”
“You know, if you don’t let anyone in, then no one can help you.”
“My father always told me we had to help ourselves. We couldn’t expect someone else to come in and bail us out.”
“But you’re only capable of so much, Madison.”
“It’s amazing what you can be capable of when you’re desperate.”
He cupped her cheeks between his hands. “You don’t have to be desperate anymore.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment with a flash of surprise that cut through his shallow soul like a hot knife through butter. If he lived to be hundred, he hoped he never saw that pain in her expression ever again.
But he knew only one way to erase it right now. Holding her still, he bent to capture her lips with his. How could Madison taste so sweet? Last thing at night, or first thing in the morning, she was sweeter than pie. And he was desperate for dessert.
He sampled her lips, their breaths mingling as they gave themselves over to the sensations. He felt Madison’s hands against his back, pulling him closer. To know she wanted him as much as he wanted her sent his spirit soaring. He let his own hands wander down, feeling the heat of her through the thin robe she wore. He groaned against her lips. He needed her. Right now. Not after a walk down the hall to the couch. Not after a walk upstairs to the bed.
Right. Now.
With what little brain he had left, Blake pictured the room in his head. Then he lifted Madison off her feet with his hands around her ribs. Her squeal echoed in his ears. He sat her down on the nearby empty space on the countertop.
He didn’t think about where they were. He only thought about her, and the urgency driving him to take her once more.
To his infinite gratitude, she spread her knees wide, making space for him. Blake fumbled in his pocket for a condom, then reached around to lower his zipper. His glance down revealed the shadowed valley between her breasts, visible where her robe had slid open.
Blake drew in a hard, deep breath, easing off the brakes on his drive to be inside her once more. He trailed his fingers along the edges of her robe, sampling the plumpness, feeling her gasp, seeing her nipples tighten beneath the sheer fabric. Slowly he slid one panel to the side, revealing her firm, round breast with its pink-tipped nipple. His mouth watered as he leaned over and licked the turgid tip. Madison arched her back, her breath releasing in a hiss. He licked again. And again. Loving the reaction of her body. Knowing that she’d be wet and ready for him.
He dropped his pants and covered himself for their protection. His fingers found her slick and needy. His heart pounded in his throat as he eased himself through her tightness.
“Oh, Maddie,” he moaned. “So good.”
Then he felt her legs circle around his waist, trapping him close, pulling him closer. He forced his way in to the hilt, both of them shuddering. He ground against her, his entire body tightening with the need to lose control.
“Please, Blake,” she begged.
Holding back was no longer an option. That simple request swept aside his hesitation. He dug deep, gathering every ounce of energy he had, desperate to share something special with her, something he’d never felt with anyone but her. He had a need for her response that would send him over the edge.
He smoothed his hand up her body to her breast, palming, then squeezing it. Tweaking the tip in a way that made her body clamp down on him. She gasped with every thrust but refused to let go.
Blake strained, desperate for release. His hand slid around to her bottom, jerking her against him with every thrust. In his need to impress himself on her, to draw out her response, he buried his mouth against her neck, and sucked on her flesh to make the pounding of her heart match his. She cried out, the sound vibrating against his tongue. Her body squeezed around him, sending his need into hyperspace. He ground against her as they both exploded with an intensity that almost knocked Blake out.
He wanted to crawl inside of her arms and never leave, an idea that at once felt overwhelmingly right and oh-so-wrong in a panicky way. The thought of staying just like this, forever, tempted him.
All too soon, Madison began to shift. He stilled her movements with his hands on her hips. Just a minute more...
“Blake,” she murmured. “Your phone.”
He blinked. Sure enough, a low metallic ringtone came from his phone, not far away on the countertop. On the display, Blake could see that it was his father’s housekeeper. Alarm quickly pushed out the euphoria.
“Blake, it’s an emergency.” He barely recognized Sherry’s shaking voice. “I had to take Abigail to the ER.”
Eight
Madison could barely comprehend Blake’s mad dash for his clothes. Her brain was still swimming in lust and satiation. Then she got a really good look at his face.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’ve got to go,” he murmured. He tried to put a button through the hole on his shirt once, then twice. Finally he swore, then ran his fingers through his hair.
Did she hear him right? “What? Why?”
Who had called? Blake was as unattached as anyone she’d come across, seeming to ex
ist in a strange ecosystem that had no one else living inside of it. Yet after one short conversation he was buttoning his shirt crooked in his haste to leave.
“Blake?”
Still he ignored her, as if his mind were already elsewhere. The switch from having his full attention five minutes ago to being completely tossed aside had her reeling. Not that she expected him to ignore an emergency for her, but what on earth had him switching gears faster than a race car? At least his preoccupation covered her awkward dismount from the counter. She might never look at her kitchen the same way again.
After calling his name a few times, she went to stand between him and the phone he had set back down on the counter while zipping up his pants. “Blake? What is happening?”
“I’ve got to leave right now.” His tone didn’t indicate he realized he’d already said this to her before.
“Why?”
He blinked, as if no one had ever asked him that. “They’ve taken my sister to the hospital.”
Sister? “Okay. I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
The vehemence encapsulated in that one word took her aback. “Excuse me?”
“No,” he said with a hard shake of his head. “I need to leave now.”
The hand he waved at her seemed to indicate it was her lack of clothes that was the problem. But was it? “Blake, you shouldn’t go alone. Give me three minutes to throw on—”
“No. Just. Not now.”
Hurt shot through Madison with the same speed that lust had earlier. She was a smart girl. It didn’t take her too many tries to realize when someone didn’t want her around—whatever the reason. But this wasn’t something she could let go. Blake did not look like he should be behind the wheel. Besides, if there was one thing she had experience with, it was hospitals.