Chapter 26 Madison
Madison
I’m taking control this time.
Light wakes me, and I’m instantly blinded when I open my eyes.
I shout in pain and roll away from it, only to bolt back in fright when a sharp yowl protests the movement.
I sit up, finding an irritated, ruffled cat stretching in the center of the bed.
Immediately, I scoop him up and hug him to my bare chest, burying my face in his soft fur.
He wriggles in my grip, but eventually starts purring at the attention.
I don’t know how Wesley did it, because I doubt this fancy-ass hotel allows pets, but he reunited me with my son. My heart feels so full it might burst as I sit with the rush of emotions, calmed by the gentle sound of a contented cat.
When Some Bills starts wriggling to be released again, I let him go, and he saunters to the end of the bed to groom himself.
The light that temporarily stunned me is sneaking in through a thin crack in the middle of the thick curtains, but the room is dark otherwise, and I can’t hear Wesley moving around in the bathroom.
But the evidence of him is everywhere—mussed sheets, clothes neatly folded on a chair, electronics on every available surface.
Yeah, no way he’s leaving all this behind.
My eyes snag on a familiar suitcase on the chair near the air conditioner.
Okay, seriously. This man is… almost too perfect. He literally thinks of everything. It’s amazing how much small gestures matter.
It feels like a million years ago when I packed it, but it was only two days ago.
I throw off the covers and go to grab some clothes, making a face at the sight of my appearance in the mirror as I pass—as a lifelong wavy/curly girl, I know better than to go to bed with wet hair.
Windblown lion isn’t my best look, so luckily I packed a hairbrush when I was planning on skipping town.
Wesley’s not back by the time I finish dressing, so I grab my toiletries bag and head into the bathroom to brush the fuzzy socks off my teeth and tame the mane.
As I brush my teeth, I gape at all the fixtures and amenities that I was too distracted to notice last night.
In-room espresso bar, heated marble floors, a bidet toilet…
This is the nicest hotel I’ve ever been to.
I mean, not that it’s a huge list—we were way too lower middle class growing up to go anywhere—but you gotta have big money to stay somewhere like this.
The sound of the door opening makes my heart leap, but it quickly settles when I hear that familiar British voice, “I brought breakfast.”
I clutch the edge of the sink, inhaling deeply to calm myself. Normally I’d be irritated with myself for being so jumpy, but I’d say considering the events of the past 24 hours, it’s the appropriate response. “Be right out. Is there bacon?”
“There is.”
“And coffee?”
“Café Bustelo.”
That stops me. I trade my toothbrush for a hairbrush and poke my head out of the bathroom.
Wesley has a tray balanced on his forearm as he’s locking the door behind him.
My mouth waters at the scents wafting off the white plates, but bacon isn’t what’s making my heart race. Dios, the man can wear a pair of jeans.
“They had Café Bustelo here?” I ask, letting my eyes linger on how the denim hugs his legs all the way around.
“No, I had the concierge get it.” He strides into the bedroom and lays the tray on the edge of the bed. I follow him, still dragging the brush through my tangles.
“Why?”
“Because it’s what you drink,” he says, turning.
Shocked, I glance from the steaming white mug to his face and find an expression I recognize. He was wearing the same one last night when we were lying in bed, facing each other. When I desperately wanted to cling to him, but was too restless and hesitant to do it.
You’re mine. Do you understand what that means?
It means that I take care of you. I protect you. I don’t let anyone hurt you.
I suppose it also means that he notices things. That he goes out of his way to do things just to make me happy. And I suppose that all adds up to one simple truth—he cares. Though, it doesn’t feel simple; it feels like a lot. More than I know how to handle right now, if I’m honest.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I say on a whispered croak, my voice thick with emotion.
Dios, I want to jump his bones. I don’t really know what to do with all these big feelings, but wanting him is the only part I’ve never really questioned—the only thing that’s easy.
He sits on one side of the bed and gestures to the other end of the tray, effortlessly redirecting Some Bills, who seems very interested in the bacon and eggs on his plate. “We need to talk about what’s going on.”
Oh, right. Hitmen after me. Life in danger. It’s not quite time for the good stuff. Down, girl.
I take my seat and pull a plate over to my side of the tray. “So, to the safe house we go?”
“Not anymore. The attack yesterday changes things—I got locked out of the General’s system, so I’m flying blind.”
I made a sympathetic face. He must hate that.
“All I know is that the bloke that grabbed you was another assassin in the area, and he’s still out there somewhere.
So we’re going to my center of operations.
I need my team for support, and all my best equipment is at the mansion.
And it’s a fortress—we were safe here for the night, but I’m not taking any chances with your life. ”
My smile is quick, then I shove an entire length of bacon into my mouth before Some Bills can swipe at it. “Your team?” I ask, intrigued.
“Mac and Dimitri. And then there’s the girls.”
My eyes widen, and I can’t stop the grin. “There are girl assassins on your team?” I ask, breathless with excitement.
“Eleanor and Nicole are not assassins,” he says, almost chagrined to let me down. “But they live there too, and they’re lovely. You’ll like them.”
Irritation prickles that he’s describing another woman as “lovely” but I decide to table that irrational jealousy. “Well, we should stop at my tío’s on the way. We need that data.”
He considers that with a frown, taking a thoughtful bite. “I’ll go.”
“We’ll go,” I correct.
He cuts me a look. “We don’t know who might be out there looking for you. It’s safer if you stay here.”
Yeah, that might be true, but it won’t matter to Tío. He’s not exactly friendly to strangers—especially ones who know his business. “If I’m not with you, he isn’t going to give you the data. He doesn’t trust people he doesn’t know.”
“I don’t like the idea of bringing you somewhere I’ve never been.”
With a soft smile, I reach out and lay my hand over his. “Don’t worry. We’ll be safe there.”
He heaves a sigh, flips his hand over and squeezes mine. “Fine. But we’re taking the bike.” When I make a face, he explains, “Quick getaway if things go sideways. And with your face hidden and hair tucked up in a helmet, no one will know it’s you.”
“Fair enough,” I compromise, pushing my empty breakfast plate away. “When do you want to leave?”
“No sense waiting,” he asserts, standing. He grabs the empty tray and places it on the desk, taking the last sip of his juice. “Are you ready to go?”
I consider his ass, so perfectly in my line of sight. “We’re safe here now, right? For a little while anyway?” At his curious nod, I smirk. “What if we left in 20 minutes?”
“Something you want to do first?” The look he throws over his shoulder is adorably curious, and I realize he’s so deep into problem-solving mode that he totally missed the innuendo.
With as much deliberate seduction as I can possibly manage, I bite my lip and let him see me scan his body slowly, up and down. I stand, closing the distance between us, unbuttoning my sweater. “I’m still hungry.”
He watches me, jaw slack as he drags in a shaky breath.
His hands flex at his sides, making the veins along his muscular forearms pop.
“Madison,” he says, infusing my name with so much desperation and longing that it makes lightning spark between my legs.
“Don’t look at me like that. There isn’t time for that. ”
“It’s only 30 minutes,” I negotiate.
“I don’t want to rush—I want to really take my time with you.”
That squirmy feeling in my tummy is back. Elation and excitement. “I know. And I’m really looking forward to it. But now I want to take my time with you. I really liked having you in my mouth yesterday, but it wasn’t enough. Give me, like… 45 minutes,” I amend with a smirk.
I let my sweater fall and step up to him. His eyes rake over my breasts and, like he can’t help himself, he lifts his hands and cups my face. It’s both an invitation and a deferral, when what he clearly wants is to rip off the lace cups and grab a nipple between his teeth.
“I don’t need you to service me—to do this when I can’t reciprocate.” He’s trying so hard not to give in.
With a little laugh at the irony, I turn my head and suck his thumb into my mouth.
When I did this at the arcade, he lit up like fireworks.
This time is no different. “I know. That’s why I’m offering,” I point out.
“If you were selfish, I wouldn’t want to give this to you.
If you were inconsiderate or mean or greedy, I wouldn’t want to please you or submit to you.
“And the way you took care of me last night was so amazing. You were gentle, then you gave me exactly what I needed. You make me feel so special, Wesley. So… cherished.”
Lifting his hand and tucking a lock of green hair behind my ear, he nods, face serious. “I cherish nothing more,” he murmurs.
I bite down on a smile. “And I cherish you, too. So I’m taking control this time—I’m thanking you. And you, Sir, are going to sit back and let me.”