Chapter 42 Madison
Madison
This is when I knew.
As I slip through the opening in the doorway, I hear an exhausted Wesley confirm with the room, “So we’re all clear for tomorrow, yeah?” The door closes before I hear any of the responses.
Everyone is clear. I know it; they know it.
I’m told that typically Dimitri fills the team lead role, since he’s the man on the ground—but not this time.
Wesley has stepped up as the orchestrator of our mission tomorrow, and he keeps checking in, making small adjustments and contingencies.
Mac openly sighed the last time he questioned whether we needed to review the logistics of the event one more time.
And while Wesley thrives under pressure, I think feeling responsible for any potential complications is stressing him out. I can see it in the new lines in the corners of his eyes—can hear it in the tired determination in his voice.
I need to take care of my man. If nerves are making me edgy, I can’t imagine what they’re doing to him. And with a day as big as tomorrow looming, sleep wouldn’t come easily to someone who can reliably get eight hours most nights.
Luckily, I know a few things guaranteed to help take his mind off his troubles.
I head into the bathroom and start filling the massive jetted tub that takes up one whole wall. After the bubble bath goes in, I’ve got some time to kill while I wait for the tub to finish filling, so I start setting the mood. Lights down, candles lit. Too bad I don’t have any rose petals…
“Madison?” Wesley calls somewhere in the foyer below, sounding curious and confused.
“Up here!” I cry back.
Fuck. I was going to put on lingerie. I debate letting him find me naked except for this choker he gave me that I’ve decided never to take off, but a pile of clothes in the corner would ruin my vibe.
I meet him at the door. He’s got a laptop tucked under his arm and a tired smile on his lips. “I thought you were going to the bathroom,” he says, leaning down and reaching for me automatically when he’s within an arm’s length.
“I was. I just came up here,” I say, lifting my chin so he can plant a kiss on my lips.
“Is that… a bath?” He tilts his head, like he’s listening to the water running. When I nod to confirm, he smirks and moves to set his laptop down on the corner of the made bed. “You’ve changed your mind about letting me wash your hair tonight?”
“No,” I say, laughing when his smile falls. I grab his wrist and tug him towards the bubble tower. “Next time. This one is for you.”
He appraises the tub as I reach down to shut off the flow of water. “If I nipped down for some champagne for us—”
“Mmm. Wine that tastes like feet and hurts the back of my throat,” I joke. After I finished that glass with Eleanor, I decided I hated it. “If you want some, though, I’ll go get it.”
He grins. “Just the bath, then.”
When he moves to unbutton his shirt, I bat away his hands. “I want to do it,” I say demurely. When he opens his mouth to argue, I realize asking nicely isn’t getting me anywhere, so I level my finger at his chest. “Stop trying to control the situation, you control freak.”
Heat flashes in his eyes, and he threads a hand into my hair, cupping the nape of my neck. “Control is kind of my thing.”
“I noticed, SpyderMan.”
“I’ll give up control only to you,” he says more softly, gaze settling on my lips.
I go up on my toes and press my mouth to his.
Before he can clutch me to him, I pull away and settle my fingers on his top button.
I can’t tell what that shuttered look in his eye means, but he’s not letting me put enough space between us to undress him, so I place a soft kiss over his heart.
“You’ve been working so hard, trying to plan and handle everything.
Trying to take care of everyone. Let me take care of you. ”
“You’re very good to me,” he murmurs.
“Only because you’re so good to me.”
We’re so close that I can hear him swallow before he nods and steps back to release me.
I want to take my time and make it as slow a seduction as I can.
I unbutton his shirt, placing a kiss on every inch of revealed skin, and draw the sleeves down so I can trail my fingers along his arms. I linger on the belt buckle, drifting my touch across the bulge behind his zipper.
His swift inhalation goes straight to my stomach, riling up the butterflies.
I love how he reacts to my touch. He’s a guarded person, but I love how openly he wears his desire for me.
I get down on my knees to unlace and help him out of his boots, then step out of his pants.
He’s not fully hard, but his cock jumps when my gaze lands on it, so close to my face.
Close enough to touch. I lean forward and place a kiss on the tip, giggling when he makes a choked noise and lays a heavy hand on the top of my head.
“Is this meant to be a kindness or an unbearable tease?” he groans.
“Little bit of both,” I say honestly with a shrug.
He grins. “Traviesita. I never quite know what to expect from you. You keep me on my toes.”
Dios, it fires me up hearing him speak Spanish.
I get to my feet and gesture at the bath.
I perv on him, grinning as his muscles flex as he gets into the tub.
I can’t wait to run my tongue through every valley of his hard body.
I’m almost too excited to undress slowly, since I just want to get in there with him, but I force myself to clip my hair out of the way, then unzip my sweatshirt slowly.
“I like the way you praise me,” I tell him. You keep me on my toes is still ringing in my ears, making me feel flush with pride.
“Do you?” he asks, his tone distracted as he watches the skin slowly being exposed with a hungry expression.
I nod, tossing aside the sweatshirt and shimmying down my skirt. “Whenever I would tell someone I like being praised, it was like a knee-jerk reaction to hit me with a ‘good girl.’ And good girl is fine I guess, but it’s not very… original.”
“You don’t like being called a good girl?” he asks, brows lifting. “I happen to know that’s not entirely true.”
I smirk. “It has a place. It’s fine, like I said.
But frankly, it’s… generic. I want something that feels tailored or authentic and relevant.
Like one time my tattoo artist said, ‘you’re sitting so still for me, I love it’ and I still think about it.
That’s why I like the way you praise me.
You call me clever, and make specific observations. ”
He reaches up to give me a way to steady myself as I climb in.
I almost overfilled the tub, so I am very careful as I settle against him, my back to his front.
He’s warm and solid, and I just want to melt into him.
As I start to float, Wesley wraps his arms around me and keeps me anchored to him as always.
I feel his lips against my neck, and his breath is hot on my skin. “You want to be acknowledged for being impressive, not obedient. I’m not surprised.”
“Well, that’s… okay, yeah, that’s fucking exactly it. Damn,” I blow out a breath on a laugh.
His chuckle vibrates through my back, settling around my heart and squeezing with the happy contentedness of the noise. “Mmm. I’m going to need the name of that tattoo artist.”
“Why, you need a touch-up?” I ask coyly, grinning as his hands tighten against my waist. “She wasn’t my type, don’t worry. I’m much more into the secretive, British, dominant types with great smiles and super sarcastic senses of humor. So… if you know anyone like that, send ‘em my way.”
I expect a teasing reprimand, but he just presses his smile into my skin and holds me tighter.
In the silence that falls, I can sense his worry creeping back in. “You want to ask me to reconsider coming tomorrow, don’t you?”
I can feel his lips stretch into a smile—can hear it in his reply. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. But you get brownie points for holding back. Do you think the others are having a similar conversation right now?”
“Doubtlessly.”
“It’s a good plan, Wesley. It’s going to work. We all want to be there.”
We finish our bath in comfortable silence—no showerhead shenanigans—and I get out first so I’m the one carefully creeping across the wet tile to hand him a towel. He still climbs out and wraps it around me, though.
As he rubs the moisture off of me, I pull back enough to see into his eyes. Emotions swirl all around me, only sharpened by the pleasure and sweetness of his touch. This feels like the right moment. Finally.
“Wesley, I love you.”
His hand stills, and the softness disappears from his expression.
It’s not the reaction I’d have wanted, but I can’t take it back now.
So I inhale shakily and continue, “You don’t have to say it back.
You’ve got a lot on your mind; it’s okay.
I just… I needed to say it. We’ve done everything we can to plan for tomorrow, but there’s still an unavoidable risk.
There’s still some danger. So, I… I need you to know. ”
His smile is faint, and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
My return smile feels tight. I know I told him he didn’t have to say it back, but now I’m kind of kicking myself for it. I’m, like, 99% sure he loves me too. Why isn’t he saying it?
He steps away, holds out his hand, and I let him guide me back into the bedroom. He sits on the bed, pulls me onto his lap, draping my legs perpendicular to his, and reaches for his laptop.
Uh… He’s going to do more work? Now? I scowl at the laptop, fighting the urge to kick it off to the ground.
But I humor him, watching as he pulls up a folder with a few deft clicks. “Do you remember when I said I remembered every conversation we’ve had?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because you’ve got a photographic memory or some shit?”