Madden’s fingertips graze the bare skin of my arm as we bask in our respective afterglows.
Sometimes he looks at me a certain way or says a certain thing that makes me think he’s not as cold and callous as he claims to be. There’s a softer side to him, it’s just buried beneath years of emotional armor and battle scars.
His hand moves lower, just beneath my arm, and the pad of his thumb grazes my tattoo.
It’s funny to me that there’s going to be a piece of him with me … on me … for all eternity. After this, whatever happens—good or bad—I’m going to think of Madden every time I look at it.
Rolling to my stomach, I rest my chin and hand on top of his chest. His heart is still beating hard and he’s still breathless.
His dark eyes are fixed to the ceiling, and I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking about right now.
Maybe he’s thinking about a sandwich. Or a shower. Or maybe he’s thinking about what I said at the party earlier tonight, about the exclusivity thing.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, biting my lip.
He smirks. “You don’t want to know.”
“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t be asking ...”
Madden glances down his nose at me, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just thinking about that move you did … with your hand and your tongue ...”
I laugh through my nose and roll my eyes. I might have read a few articles on Cosmopolitan’s website before tonight, specifically one on this oral sex technique called The Screw. It never hurts to be prepared and after three times that first night, I knew I’d need to bring my A game for round two.
“Completely unexpected,” he says.
“Glad you liked it.” I roll over and grab my phone off the nightstand. It’s only ten-thirty, but I should get going. I was completely transparent earlier today, telling my mother I was going to hang out with some friends at a party, that I would only have one drink, and that I’d be home by midnight.
I could see the hesitation in her eyes, but she simply nodded and thanked me for keeping her informed, and I got the hell out of there before she changed her mind.
I’m sure after that slew of threats she made the other day, she realized that kicking me out of the house is the last thing she wants, but I’m not in a position to call her bluff just yet.
My car is in my parents’ names. They pay my cell phone and insurance. They’re even on my checking account so they can transfer money as needed.
Everything I have … is theirs.
Which means I have nothing.
I’ve yet to tell them that I’m not going to medical school this fall. I was hoping to find a job first.
A real job.
With benefits.
And a salary that would allow me to live on my own, to be completely independent.
Until that happens, I’m stuck living under their roof and respecting their rules, however asinine and archaic they may be.
Lifting myself off Madden’s taut torso, I slink out of bed and search the dark apartment for my dress, panties, and bra.
“Where you running off to?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows.
“Home.” I glance at him for a second, long enough for me to spot the disappointment that registers on his face by way of a frown and furrowed brows.
He checks his phone. “It’s ten thirty-four.”
“I know.” I shimmy into my panties, almost immediately regretting the decision because the gusset is still slightly damp from before.
While he whisked me away from the party and we sped through the streetlamp lit streets of Olwine to his apartment, the man couldn’t keep his hands off me.
The roar of his GTO’s engine, the vibration of the seats, and his hand down the front of my panties as I leaned into him, tasting his skin and breathing in his intoxicating cologne—I’d never been so turned on in my life.
The anticipation heightened everything tenfold, and by the time we got to his apartment door we were both half-naked and in the midst of stumbling backward into his bed.
“You can stay,” he says, “if you want, I mean.”
“I know.” I give him a knowing smile.
“Got big plans for tomorrow?” he asks, his tone casual enough to make me think he doesn’t care all that much when I know he does.
“Nope.” I trek to the kitchen table, locating my bag right where I dropped it when we barged in here like wild animals in heat.
“O … okay.” He sits up, tosses the covers off his legs, and climbs out of bed to slip on a pair of navy boxers. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I slip my purse over my shoulder after locating my keys.
“It’s just … last time you stayed and we ...” He stops talking and studies me instead.
If I knew him a little better, I might give him the full rundown on everything, but honestly, I doubt he’d care. I’m just some girl he likes to screw and he’s just disappointed that we won't be beating our high score tonight.
“All right.” He walks me to the door. “You want to do this again sometime?”
“Do what?” I ask, playing coy. “Have sex?”
“Obviously. That’s kind of what we do ...”
“Have you given any more thought to what I said earlier? About the exclusivity thing?”
His hands rest at his hips and his chest rises and falls, slow and deep. “I thought we were on the same page with the whole not-dating thing.”
“We are,” I say. “I don’t want to date you. I’m not here, with you, doing this, because I expect anything magical to come of this. But I refuse to be told that I’m not free to sleep with someone else, that I’m confined to the moral and ethical restraints of a relationship … without actually being in one. You see how that’s not fair, yes?”
His lips move to one side. “Yeah, but ...”
“So that’s where I stand.” I smooth the wrinkles from the front of my dress.
That was another thing—he tried to tell me what to wear tonight, so I showed up in a dress to spite him; a pale pink number with a fitted bodice that accented my breasts while nipping my waist and showing off just enough leg to draw the eye.
If he’s smart, he’ll never tell me what to wear again.
“So it’s the label you’re wanting?” he asks, scratching the side of his nose. “Because I don’t understand the difference between what you’re asking for and two adults agreeing to be monogamous fuck buddies.”
“There is a difference.” All screwing around aside, I need to come clean with him. “My mother found out I lied to her the night I stayed with you.” I lift a hand because he looks like he’s going to cut me off and I want to finish. “And I know what you’re thinking … I'm twenty-two. I’m a grown woman. It shouldn’t matter what my parents think or say. But my family is a bit more complicated and this is how it is for reasons I’ve never really gotten into with you. Anyway, my point is … if we’re going to keep doing this, if I’m going to keep spending time here. With you. My parents are going to want to meet you. I'm going to have to tell them we’re dating.”