Chapter 18 Madonna Ramifications
madonna ramifications
Liam
It’s obvious the woman who woke up today is still the one spitting piss and vinegar. She’s also into pushing my boundaries. I can’t be sure since there are no cameras in her private spaces, but I don’t doubt she’s turned the speaker directly at our joined wall.
It’s better than the emo version I had yesterday. But I do question why it is I made two rules about rules of all things and failed to consider the Madonna ramifications.
And I’m not dealing with any more rules, so it would take forty-five days for me to change the forty-five-day rule itself, and then we’d have rule changes ad nauseum every single time she wanted to implement something new.
I could always take the no sex rule off the table.
But, in actuality, that’s the only one that must be on the list. It’s imperative that remains.
That is the single guardrail on the steep, narrow way of the cliffside we’re traversing.
The moment that comes down, all bets are off—and all the other rules are shot to hell.
Not because I would ever insult her intelligence or violate her boundaries or anything like that, but because it’s the only one guarding her heart.
It’s for her protection. It’s to ensure I don’t brutalize her or cause pain worse than that of the fucktards who started this whole mess.
I’m no player. I don’t want the high score. But I have no clue how to do relationships. More to the point, I have no idea how to walk away from someone for whom sex means something.
One-night stands are just that… One night. A little fun. A lot of pleasure. But they don’t mean anything.
And I won’t hurt the plucky girl next door. She’s tender and kind and deserves better than a man who gets on, gets off, and gets gone.
Therefore, I’m stuck with Madonna.
Or… I could let myself into her house and kill the damned speakers.
How offended would she be if I just handled that shit? A little or moderate? I’m willing to take that chance. Lorien in the fasteners section? I like that version, even if she’s pithy and spicy. I’m less willing to court her wrath because that Lorien makes me hard.
The decision is made when “Lucky Star” vibrates the walls of my house.
Making my way to her place, I let myself in with the key. A quick peek in her kitchen confirms what the cameras showed and what I tried so kindly to thwart. She’s attempting to bake.
Her phone is face up on the kitchen counter.
I unlock it with the code she told me she wanted on the front door lock.
It’s how I programmed myself in yesterday.
I disable Bluetooth, turn the volume all the way down so I’m not stuck with it all to myself, and find the device she has it paired to, quickly disconnecting that speaker.
I’ll find it later. In the meantime, I’ve made things just bad enough that it’ll take some time for the biochemist to find the problems.
Material Girl problem solved.
“What in the world?”
I’m almost out the door when I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
“You! What did you do? And why—” And there’s the scream.
I turn and I wish I hadn’t. Lorien holds a lemon-yellow towel in front of her very naked, very wet body, rooted to the spot in her living room.
I promise, if I could get my feet to move, I would do so.
I’d double time it out of the house and back into my own, or go halfway down the street to put a little more distance between us.
Because that creamy skin she bares when her legs are in those short shorts…
It’s everywhere. Her arms. Her collarbone.
Black hair is slicked back from her face, and her eyes are the size of saucers.
The towel begins to slip, and she fights with another toned wet arm to hold it as it balances precariously just a hint above her tits and a sliver below her pussy.
I’m staring. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t fucking look away. She’s… fuck, she’s perfect. And she’s wet and…
I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, not trusting myself to say a word, and back out of the door. I press the keypad lock and hear it throw the bolt, mostly to give me the assurance that something stands between me and my own personal kryptonite.
My one rule was almost decimated out of sheer lack of self-control. How am I going to survive being under the same roof with her? Jacking off twenty times a day seems like a good way to get carpal tunnel syndrome.
Me: You never answered. 5:45?
Lorien: You broke into my house.
Me: It’s soon to be *our* house.
Lorien: You violated my sanctuary. When I was naked!
Don’t remind me. Don’t remind me.
Me: I assumed you playing Madonna meant you summoned me. Like a distress signal. Or a bat signal.
Lorien: Are you Batman in this scenario?
Me: Do you want me to be?
Lorien: I want you to go away.
Me: You got your wish.
Lorien: Until 5:45 when I have to look you in the face after you saw me practically naked.
Don’t I know it.
Me: I didn’t see any of the good bits.
Lorien: The consequence for breaking one of my rules is going to be the elimination of one of yours.
Me: You gonna share which rule you want removed? Seems as though you’ve mentioned something like this twice in two days. You must really want me.
Lorien: I. Do. Not.
Me: Yet you got out of the tub and strode wet and barely covered to find me.
I’m going too far. I’m going way too fucking far.
Me: Actions speak louder than words.
Lorien: So did your pants.
She’s right. But how do I answer that? Hmmm. Glad my plumbing still works or You’re right or outright denial?
Me: Sweet thing like you staring at your neighbor’s cock? I expected better from you, Dr. Anderson.
Lorien: Go away. And we’re never speaking of this again.
Maybe not, but it’s burned on my brain.
Lorien: And how did you get into my house?
Lorien: And my phone?
I don’t answer either of those. Given enough time, she’ll figure the first one out. The second, I’d just as soon she not consider. Making it harder on me doesn’t make it impossible. It just annoys me.
Lorien
At 5:45 exactly, there’s a knock on my back door, followed by Liam poking his head in. “You ready to go?”
He doesn’t know I’m hyper-punctual, but I am ready, sitting at the bar, wiping my hands over and over on a dish towel, trying to stop the sweat that slicks my palms.
I don’t deal with nerves normally, but first the nakedness, then dinner with his family, so my anxiety has decided to take up residence in my gut and claw around reminding me it wants to feed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, crowding my space.
When did that start—the part where he stands too close? I don’t need to smell him. God. What is that scent? It’s earthy and woodsy and makes me want to bury my nose in his neck.
I slice my eyes to his and squint.
“Are you mad about today?”
Yes. And that’s a much better answer than how whatever cologne he’s wearing makes me want to lick him like a cake pop. I nod. Sure, let’s go with that.
“Let’s get this over with.” I hop off the stool and grab the plate of cookies I made.
They don’t look like my mom’s, but I’m sure they’ll be great. This recipe never fails.
He mutters something under his breath and I turn, putting a finger in his chest, his very hard chest, that’s warm and broad.
“Let’s get one thing straight. Today never happened. There was no naked anything. I didn’t see yours. You didn’t see mine. There’s no reason to make sexual innuendo or give me knowing looks. Got it?”
“I didn’t see yours. You didn’t see mine. Got it.” His beard twitches, and his eyes crinkle.
“Gah.” I’m out the back door and onto the stoop when I hear the whirl of the deadbolt.
“Was that a growl?” His voice is light and playful.
“It was not.” Take that.
He follows me until we’re almost to the gate and pulls it open for me to go first. We make it to his garage that’s open, and he holds open the passenger door for me, waiting for me to get settled and buckled before he rounds the hood to the driver’s side.
He presses a button on his phone as we make it to the alley, and his garage door begins its descent.
“That’s convenient.”
“I bought one for your garage. You were busy not replying to my texts and/or telling me to go away today, so maybe tomorrow.”
Aw, man. That would be awesome.
“No. You don’t get to blame me for this.” I turn and stare at his profile. I hold my gaze there long after I’m comfortable and until he finally breaks the silence.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“I wanted to look at you, really look at you, so that I got over my embarrassment before we get to Cian’s house. I don’t want to avoid you all night over something that wasn’t my fault.”
“Ah.” He nods. “Did it work?”
I shrug. I’m forcing myself out of my comfort zone and making a point. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”
“Let me know quickly because we’re here.”