29. Late Night Texts
29
LATE NIGHT TEXTS
Zane
I hate surprises. But I think I’ll like this one. Once we reach the side street behind the restaurant, Maddox clicks open the doors to his Audi. The second they slam shut, I turn to him.
“Talk,” I demand, so damn eager to hear everything.
Without hesitation, he begins. “I wish I’d talked to you in person. I wish I’d stopped telling myself I’d made a mistake. I wish I’d spent those two nights with you. I wish I’d spent more,” he says, strong, certain, laying bare his regrets. “And I hope you’ll spend the night with me.”
Does he think I’m that easy? That he can just tell me he wants me and I’ll come running?
But my heart is already sprinting in his direction as I drink in the look in his eyes—utter vulnerability.
I have things to say though. I am not a pushover. “I came here to see you too, Maddox.”
“Yeah?” His voice pitches up.
“I had something to say to you,” I continue, trying to stick to my plan.
“Tell me. Anything,” he says, so open, so ready to hear me.
My simple speech repeats in my head— I was hurt in New York because I was falling in love with you. I wanted to share my heart with you. Find a way with you. And you have to know I was never going to go clubbing with Gunnar. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since we met. I can’t stop thinking about you, but I know I can’t have you, so I’m vowing to let this go and ? —
Fuck that. I’m not letting this man who misses me get away.
I change tactics immediately. “I came here to say…it hurt me so much to lose you in New York,” I begin, then I let loose a smile so big it makes my whole body sing. “But I’m so fucking happy to be with you right now.”
Holy shit.
That’s so much better than the first speech. I feel…electric. Like I just hit a home run. Maddox looks like he can’t believe his luck. He reaches his hand across the console, grasping mine. The second our fingers touch, tingles shoot down my spine.
Well, guess I am that easy.
Almost. “I do want to spend the night with you. But I want to spend tomorrow night with you too. I don’t want another one-night stand,” I say, holding back the rest of my confession— I want every night with you .
“Yes. I want that too,” he says, breathless as he leans closer to me, his free hand playing with the buttons on my shirt, making me shiver. “Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you’re here. And then after that too. Next week. Next month. I want whatever you’ll give. I don’t know exactly how to make this work. I have some ideas. Been working through some plans. I want to share them with you, but I can’t really think straight right now because I’m so fucking crazy for you, and I just want to touch you again.”
I went into the restaurant tonight seeking closure. Instead, I found an opening to my future.
Our future.
Joy and desire fill me up, a glass overflowing. That’s what this man does to me—he stirs up brand-new emotions I never want to let go of. I don’t want to let go of him.
“Maddox,” I say in a dirty rumble.
“Zane,” he says, trembling with desire too.
With my free hand, I reach for his gorgeous face, cup his jaw. “I didn’t ever plan to go clubbing in New York.”
With a soft smile, he says, “I know.”
My heart flutters and I haul him in for a kiss. But I stop before I brush my lips to his. “Say you’re mine,” I command.
His breath flutters across his lush lips. “I’m yours.”
Then, when I’m about to kiss my man, he surprises me. Faster than I expected, he seals his mouth to mine. I part my lips, opening for him. He takes my kiss, gliding his lips across mine, exploring me with his tongue.
The kiss is the full-body kind. I feel the pleasure of it slide down my back, curl through my legs, stretch to my toes. Then settle in my groin, where I ache for him.
He squeezes my fingers harder in our joined hands, then kisses me deeper. I lean back against the headrest, taking his kiss, feeling wanted.
When he breaks the kiss, he runs a finger along my top lip. “And you’re mine.”
I smile. “Yup.” Then I glance at the clock. “Drive, Mad. Drive fucking now.”
With a wicked grin, he pulls out of the parking spot quickly, cruises through the side streets. Seven endless minutes later, he pulls up to a steel-gray house, cuts the engine, and gets out of the car.
When we reach his porch, I stop him before he can unlock the door. “Maddox,” I say.
“Yes?”
“Take out your phone,” I command.
He grabs it from his back pocket, waits eagerly.
“Open your texts.”
With a curious glint in his eyes, he complies. “Done.”
“Now send a group text to all your clients. Hey there. Just letting you know I’ll be unavailable for the next ” —I pause, check the time— “ twelve hours .”
With a smug smile, he types, then shows it to me.
“Good. But I forgot one detail that I want you to add.”
“What is it?”
I wiggle my fingers. He hands me the phone. I type, then show him the amended message.
Hey there. Just letting you know I’ll be unavailable for the next twelve hours. I’ll be tied up.
His eyes sparkle, and he hits send.