Chapter Thirty-One
Tucking Maddey into bed after she passes out on me again is a lot harder to do the second time. Unlike last night, this time there is nothing blocking my view of her naked chest, her shirt having gone askew while I took her with my fingers.
Her lips are red and swollen from my kisses, made all the more prominent when they purse as she snuggles into her pillow.
I adjust her shirt and tuck the comforter around her shoulders.
Trident jumps onto the bed, and the moment he presses himself into Maddey, her arm drapes itself over him, the unconscious action the perfect display of how in sync the pair are with each other.
Smoothing her hair away from her face, I can’t help but remember how the last time ended for me. How can she think I don’t believe she can handle herself when she has proven from the moment I arrived she can?
Stepping back, I watch her sleep. Buried amongst her pillows and colorful blankets, arm thrown over her dog, face buried in his neck, both softly snoring, she is so damn cute it makes my heart ache.
I may spend more time away than at home, but what I wouldn’t give to have this be the scene I come back to when I’m stateside.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing there watching her sleep when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
JUSTIN: Paul and I are stopping by. Please make sure all weapons are hidden from my sister.
* * *
ME: She’s sleeping.
* * *
JUSTIN: Ah yes—heard about the tequila. See you in 10.
I should feel guilty about texting with fingers that are still covered in the scent of his sister, but I’m past the point of caring. Sure, a part of me wants to shout my feelings from the rooftops, but as far as my best friend is concerned, we will operate on a need-to-know basis. And Justin? He doesn’t have the security clearance.
His message is a reminder that I have work to do. With one last glance at my girl, I leave her to dream—hopefully of me.
After a pitstop in the hall bathroom to wash my hands and adjust my very blue balls, I pull my shirt over my head to cover up the scratch marks Maddey left on my back then check in with my contact at Jamie’s security firm. I understand why Maddey didn’t want a security detail assigned to her, but I have found them to be invaluable in gathering backend intel.
Justin and Paul arrive while I’m combing through their most recent report on the analytics of Maddey’s social media accounts. I had them run both the Belle Willis ones and her personal ones, not wanting to leave any stone unturned.
“Nice to see you’re still in one piece.” Justin drops into the chair across from me with a shit-eating grin on his face. I should have never told my fellow Lost Boys about Maddey and her taser. I supplied them with years’ worth of ammunition for ribbing.
Trident ambles into the room, having heard the door, and heads first for Paul, who gives him a fresh bone, then lays himself down across my feet. At least I know the dog approves of me.
“How do you even know about last night?” I give Trident’s head a scratch.
“We swung by Espresso Patronum this morning,” Paul says, referring to Lyle’s coffee shop up north near where they work.
“If you need to know what’s going on in the world, find a Covenette.” Justin offers a shrug.
“I don’t know what Lyle was more upset about missing—Cali doing a photoshoot, or you carrying out a drunk Madz.” I’ll give Paul props for saying that with a straight face. If it had been Justin, there would have been another dig or two thrown in there.
Outside of a comment or two about the case, none of us say much while we go through the files that were sent over. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find, but the lack of anything is frustrating as hell. The internet may be a fount of information, but it also makes it easy for creepers like Maddey’s stalker to keep their identity a secret as they troll behind their keyboard.
“Was she really pissed?” Justin jerks a chin to the ceiling.
“Yup.” I feel the knife of guilt twist as I remember the lone tear that escaped while she did her best to beat me up. “What’s worse is I made her doubt how capable she is.”
“Fuck.”
I nod. It’s a delicate balance trying to make sure Maddey is able to handle herself in any situation while keeping her from bucking the help she clearly needs.
“Did anything come today?” Paul’s question has a fresh wave of anger washing over me.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “More of the same as yesterday.” I use a towel to pick up the bubble mailer and bring it to the table. “Highlighted passages from some of her books.”
“Lingerie?” Justin slips on a pair of latex gloves to sift through the contents.
“No.” I clench my jaw hard enough I almost crack a tooth. “But this time I was threatened in the highlights.”
I circle my finger for Justin to flip the pages, waiting until he comes to the passage underlined in red Sharpie where one of Maddey’s characters is hit by a car. I’m not explicitly called out, but it’s the only section not done in blue highlighter and where the characters aren’t having sex. It’s easy to draw the conclusion that it’s a warning for me.
With each day that passes and each gift that arrives, my loathing grows. His threats against me roll off my back like water on a duck. It’s the terrorizing of Maddey, the messing with what’s mine that is unacceptable.
“What are you going to do?” Justin asks.
“I’m going to find the fucker and make him wish he was never born.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I wake up from my impromptu nap feeling surprisingly refreshed. There’s also a lingering sense of déjà vu. If I thought trying to process kissing Dex was going to be a challenge, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Maybe you should start with how that was the hottest sexual experience of your life and there wasn’t even any penile penetration.
Did you really have to think “penile penetration”?
Why not? *shrugs* It’s true.
Yeah, but…yuck.
Can you two stop arguing so we can talk about how unexpectedly alpha Dex is when he kisses?
Whoa, boy. *fans self* Yes please. I mean, can we talk about that neck grab?
Truth. That was hot AF.
Or the growly way he said, “Mine.”
Hold on. *hits delete button* We need to back up a second. We’ve totally skipped over the part where he claimed he is going to pop our anal cherry.
Now that was hot.
Agreed. *insert GIF of Ron Burgundy nodding with “Agreed.”* My cheeks weren’t clenching in reluctance—it was anticipation.
*throws arms in the air* Bring on the butt stuff.
*facepalms* Do you really have to say butt stuff?
First you have a problem with penile penetration and now you’re taking issue with butt stuff? Way to be a buzzkill.
I clearly need to find a way to relax and clear my mind, because my characters are out of control in there. My stomach growls, reminding me I never actually ate earlier.