Chapter 22 Madison
Madison
I’m changing his contact from “Sir” to “Sir Nerd.”
Dios, last night was perfect.
Luxuriating in bed, I watch Wesley as he moves through the room, collecting his clothes and pulling on his pants.
The sunlight streaming in through my curtains has the harsh brightness of mid-morning, and I can smell the coffee he must have started wafting in from the kitchen.
It’s a good try to get me out of bed, but I’m not falling for it.
“He fucks like a god and he makes coffee in the morning,” I say with a little hum of contentment, covering a yawn with my hand.
He flashes me a smile over his shoulder as he sits on the bed to button his shirt. “Don’t forget that you have some packing to do,” he reminds me.
“Right. Safe house.” I readjust my arm under my pillow. “I need some more sleep. And a shower. Okay, maybe shower first. Care to join me?”
“Tempting,” he says, reaching out and rubbing my upper arm. “But we need to head to the safe house this morning.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t have fucked me for, like, half the night.”
The sound that rips from his chest is suspiciously like a growl. My eyes widen, going from his sternum to his lips to his eyes. When our gazes collide, the surprise in mine melts immediately to excitement and heat.
“Want to try that one again, love?” he lifts a brow, sliding his hand up my arm until it’s a vague threat, resting on my shoulder just inches from my throat.
I think we both know if he closes that distance and grabs me how we both want, he just wasted his time getting dressed.
So I give him my brattiest, most pleased-with-myself smile. “The best-laid plans—derailed by laying the plan,” I say, grinning. “It’s me. I’m the plan. You laid me. So much. So well.”
He laughs and moves until he’s propping himself up with an arm on either side of me. He presses a kiss to my temple. “We’ll go when I get back. Rest, take your shower, have some coffee.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to pack up my stuff from the hotel where I’ve been staying. And I thought while I was out, I’d grab some things for Some Bills. I need to make sure the safe house is cat-friendly—or at least has a litter box. Plus, if I stay here, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off you.”
I beam at him. “What a good cat dad. I mean, I know my pussy calls you Daddy now.”
He shakes his head, but he’s grinning at my joke. “Take your shower, you little menace. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t answer the door while I’m gone. And load your damn gun, Madison.”
I smirk. “Yes, Sir.”
A minute later, I hear the door shut. Alone and free to make an ugly noise, I do a full body stretch that I can feel in every inch of muscle I’ve got.
Dios, I’m sore. Like, in a “smiling through every wince” kind of way.
Last night was the best night of my life.
No one has ever been so interested in or attentive to my pleasure.
He built me a vibrator, for fuck’s sake!
And it’s so much more than the perfect gift or his hot, dirty mouth, or the way he treated learning what I liked as if he were a scientist collecting data from trial and error.
Show me how to touch you, love.
Like this?
Yes. Fuck yes. That’s it. Come for me.
He’s… everything. Everything I hoped he’d be. Everything I could want. Our online chemistry was good, but our in-person chemistry is off the fucking charts.
But as I take a quick shower and dress myself, I sit with a strange feeling in my chest. It’s a fizzy happiness, sure, because Wesley is literally amazing, but why am I not just happy? Why is there this lingering sense of… dread?
Maybe it’s because if the potential with Peter was exciting and terrifying, it’s 100x worse with Wesley. My heart is already involved. It has been for two years.
And I’m not used to being vulnerable. I’m used to being badass hacker Madison, who makes terrible men cry and doesn’t need anyone. It’s simple. Safe. No one can hurt you when you don’t give a shit about what they think.
But I give a lot of shits about what Wesley thinks. And it’s really fucking scary because that gives him so much power over me—so much power to hurt me.
That’s future-Madison’s problem. Present-Madison’s problem is…
packing—and the fact that I’ve only got one suitcase, and it’s still in my car from yesterday morning.
I packed light in anticipation of being on the run, and since that doesn’t matter anymore, I’d like to fill the rest of the space with important stuff.
The entire contents of my toy drawer, for example.
Just before I head out I remember to grab my pistol from its drawer and roll my eyes as I tuck it in the waistband of my skirt. “Load your gun, Madison,” I mock in my best British accent.
Wesley’s bike is still parked next to my car, so I assume that means he took that van he pointed out on the street out front.
It made me snicker last night as I considered and discarded about a dozen inappropriate jokes.
But I can’t ignore how ironically polar opposite the two sides of his persona are—on the one hand you’ve got a panty-dropping motorcycle and on the other you’ve got a pedo van.
As I open the back door of my car, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Grabbing it, I check the screen and see a text. Of course, he put himself in my contacts.
First chance I get, I’m changing his contact from “Sir” to “Sir Nerd.”
Sir
It’s not safe, Madison.
Get back in your flat until I return.
I haven’t rolled my eyes this hard since I was a kid, and I distinctly remember being told they’d get stuck that way. I start tapping out my response.
I’m not a total idiot. I’ve got my gun.
But just before I can press send, someone grabs me from behind.