Chapter 26 #2
This is what she has Liam for. But he’s stuck in a cell right now, unable to help her, unable to protect her. And I’m here. I’m the one who found her. The thought sends a fresh wave of possessive rage through me.
I hate it, but I have to ask. “Should I call Knox?”
The thought of calling him, of bringing him here, makes my stomach turn, but I have to consider her needs. She’s slept with him before. He’s the one who can help.
She shakes her head, a small, jerky motion, and I almost collapse in relief. I don’t want him here. I don’t want him anywhere near her.
“What can I do?” I ask, my voice soft. “How can I help?”
She wipes at her tears with the back of her hand, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I thought you hated me,” she says.
“I can’t hate you,” I say, the words a simple, undeniable truth. I could be angry with her. Disappointed in her, yes, but I could never hate her.
“Fuck,” she says, rolling her head back, exposing the long, slender column of her neck. The scent gets stronger, an intoxicating wave that makes my head spin. “It hurts.”
“I should call 911 or something,” I say, my mind racing. I’ve been trained for this, for emergency situations. I know the protocol. But suddenly, I can’t remember any of it. All I can think about is her, the scent of her, the pain she’s in.
“It won’t help,” she says, her voice tight with discomfort. “There are no suppressants in town.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m not even sure if I want to ask her what she means, so instead, I ask the only thing that matters. “What can I do?”
“A bath always helps,” she says, her voice a little stronger now, a hint of hope in her tone. “The cold water... it helps.”
Okay. Fuck. Okay. A bath. I can do that. I can help her with that.
I walk past her, into the bathroom, my movements stiff, awkward. I bite my cheek, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the ache in my groin. I have to focus. She needs help. I will help her. That’s all that matters.
The bathroom is small, tidy, with a stack of fluffy towels on the shelf and a collection of bath bombs and oils arranged on the counter. I turn on the faucet, the sound of the rushing water filling the small space. I test the temperature, making sure it’s cold, just the way she needs it.
As I wait for the tub to fill, I can hear her soft whimpers from the bedroom, and each sound is a fresh stab of pain. I want to go to her, to hold her, to tell her everything will be okay. But I can’t. I have to keep my distance. I have to control myself.
The tub is almost full now, the water a clear, cold pool. I turn off the faucet and take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.
“Millie,” I call out, my voice tight. “The bath is ready.”
I walk out of the bathroom, the scent of her heat hitting me like a physical wall. It’s thicker now, more potent, a sweet aroma that makes my head spin and my cock ache. And then I see her.
She’s on the floor, right where I left her, but the towel is gone. Her legs are spread, her fingers buried between her thighs, moving frantically. Her head is thrown back, her back arched, a picture of pure, unadulterated need.
I stop dead in my tracks. I swallow, my throat dry. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I should leave. I should turn around and walk out that door and never look back.
“Should I... should I leave?” I ask, the words a hoarse whisper.
She opens her eyes, and they’re fixed on me, dark with desire. “You smell so good,” she says, her voice a low, husky purr. “So fucking good.”
“No,” I beg. “Don’t.”
But she doesn’t listen. She drops her hand from between her legs and crawls toward me, her movements fluid, predatory. Her nipples are hard and pebbled in the cool air.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice cracking as she reaches me.
She kneels in front of me, her face level with my crotch. She nuzzles her nose against my pants, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips.
“Maddox,” she groans, and the sound vibrates through me, straight to my cock.
“Millie,” I curse, my hands fisting at my sides. “Don’t do this. Please.”
I bite my fist. It’s all I can do to stop myself from touching her.
I watch helplessly as she rubs herself against my leg, her cheek pressed against my lap. Her scent grows stronger, more intoxicating with every passing second.
“I need this,” she says. “I need you.”
I cup her head, my fingers tangling in her damp hair. I look down at her, at her upturned face, at her swollen lips, at the need in her eyes. My resolve is crumbling, piece by piece.
“Did you fuck Knox?” I ask, the question torn from me, a desperate attempt to hold on to some semblance of control.
She shakes her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “No.”
“Do you want to?” I press, my voice tight with jealousy.
She swallows, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
“Look at me,” I command, my tone harsh, demanding.
She nods, her eyes wide and trusting. “I want to fuck you too,” she confesses, her words a final, devastating blow to my self-control.
I curse, a long string of profanities that does nothing to ease the ache in my groin. “I can get you off, but I can’t fuck you.”
She whines, a high, pathetic sound that tears at my heart. “Why not?”
“Because if I fuck you,” I finally confess, unable to finish the sentence. I try again. “If I fuck you, I’ll never get over you. I’ll never be able to let you go. And you’re not mine to keep.”
Her eyes widen, a flicker of understanding dawning in their depths. “When... when were you into me?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“Oh, Millie,” I say, my heart aching with a love I’ve kept hidden for so long. And then I’m kissing her, my mouth crashing down on hers, a hungry kiss that’s been years in the making.
It’s a clash of teeth and tongues. I pour all my frustration, all my longing, all my love into that kiss, and she meets me with a passion that takes my breath away.
I lift her off the floor, my arms wrapping around her waist, her legs wrapping around my hips. I carry her to the bed, my movements clumsy. I lay her down on the mattress, my body covering hers, my mouth never leaving hers.
I tug her legs to the edge of the bed, parting her thighs. And then I see it. The slick. A glistening, wet proof of her desire, a sweet, intoxicating invitation.
“You are so wet,” I say, my voice a low, reverent whisper.
“Please, Maddox,” she begs, her hands fisting in my hair. “Please.”
And all my thoughts disappear. All my hesitation, all my fear, all my loyalty to Liam—it all fades away, replaced by a single, all-consuming need. I need to taste her. I need to make her mine.
I lower my head, my tongue tracing a path down her stomach, my hands holding her hips, holding her still. I can feel her trembling, can hear her soft whimpers, can smell the sweet, musky scent of her arousal.
And then I’m there, my mouth on her, my tongue delving into her wet heat. She cries out, her back arching off the bed, her hands tightening in my hair. I lap at her, my tongue exploring every fold, every crevice, tasting her, devouring her.
She’s moaning now, a sound that drives me wild. I can feel her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I increase the pressure, my tongue flicking against her clit until she’s screaming my name, her body convulsing in a powerful orgasm.
But I don’t stop. I can’t. I want more. I want to see her fall apart again and again.
I slide a finger into her, then another, feeling her clench around me. I curl my fingers, finding that spot inside her, that magical bundle of nerves that makes her see stars.
“Oh god, Maddox,” she cries out, her hips bucking against my hand. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I pump my fingers in and out of her, my mouth still on her clit, sucking, licking, driving her wild. She comes again, her body shaking, a wave of slick gushing out of her, coating my hand, my face.
“Holy fuck,” I say, my eyes wide with awe as I watch her. She’s trembling, sweat sliding down her tits, her skin flushed and glowing. I’ve never seen her like this, so wild, so uninhibited, so completely lost in pleasure. I want to burn this moment into my memory forever.
I cup her pussy, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. And she’s mine. At least for tonight.
I lay my head on her stomach, the skin there soft and warm, still damp with a fine sheen of sweat. I press a kiss to the slight curve. I wait, my own body a coiled spring of tension, for her breathing to even out.
Her nails rake through my scalp, a gentle, soothing motion that does little to calm the frantic thrumming beneath my own skin. I’m so hard it hurts, a persistent ache that demands attention. I fight the urge to rock my hips into the mattress, to seek some friction, some relief.
I won’t. Not here. Not now.
It takes forever, or maybe it just feels like it. Time is a strange, elastic thing in this small, scent-filled room. Finally, her breathing deepens, the frantic panting replaced by a more peaceful, even cadence.
“Thank you,” she whispers, the words barely audible in the quiet.
I turn my head, my cheek still pressed against her stomach, to look at her. Her eyes are closed, her face relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in... maybe ever. “You don’t have to thank me.”
Her hand moves from my hair to my face, her fingers tracing the line of my brow, the curve of my cheekbone. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, her eyes opening to meet mine.
I smile, a small, sad thing. “I did.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you feeling better?” I ask, my thumb stroking over her hip.
She lets out a laugh that takes me by surprise. “Not really,” she admits, a wry smile playing on her lips. “You smell of sweat and snow and pine, and all I can think about is pulling you on top of me.”
My breath hitches. I take her hand, bring it to my lips, and press a kiss to her palm. Her skin is soft, her scent clinging to it.
“Maddox,” she whispers, my name a prayer on her lips.
“Please don’t ask that of me,” I beg, my voice rough with need. “Please.”
She swallows, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “I would never make you do what you don’t want.”
I kiss her wrist, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse against my lips. “You know that’s not true.”
She shakes her head, her eyes filled with a confusion that mirrors my own. “I don’t know anything.”
And that’s when it happens. The words I’ve held back for years, the truth I’ve buried under layers of friendship and loyalty, finally break free. “I’m in love with you.”
She gasps, her body tensing beneath me. She sits up, dislodging me, her eyes wide with shock. “What?”
I sit up, facing her, the space between us suddenly vast and charged with unspoken things. I want to remember how she looks right now—naked, gorgeous, her hair a mess, her face flushed with pleasure and surprise. But she’s talking, her words a frantic, jumbled rush.
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“I’m in love with you,” I repeat, the words feeling both terrifying and right. “I have been in love with you for so long, and I have been trying not to be a douche bag about any of it, but if you can give a stranger like Knox a chance, what’s the harm in me telling you the truth?”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know that.” My heart is aching with the sincerity of it. “And that’s why I’m begging you not to ask me to fuck you. Because I will. And I can live with anything except your regret in this.”
“Shit,” she says, the word a soft, breathy exhale.
“Yeah,” I agree, my own voice rough with emotion.
I climb out of the bed, my movements stiff, awkward. I rearrange my cock, the pressure a painful reminder of what I’m giving up. “The water is all set,” I say, my back to her. “So I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Don’t leave, Maddox,” she says, her voice small, vulnerable.
“I can’t stay,” I tell her, my resolve crumbling.
“You can,” she insists. “I want you to stay.”
I shake my head, unable to turn around, unable to look at her. “You’re just in heat. That’s why you think you want me here.”
“No,” she says, her voice firm. “No. The meds I took are helping. I’m horny, but I’m not in heat. Not yet. But I will be soon... and I want you here. I want Liam here. I care about both of you. I want my best friends here.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I say, my voice tight with strain.
She crawls to the edge of the bed, to me. She presses a soft kiss to my jaw, then to my lips. “I know what I’m saying,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin. “I’m tired of fighting this. And when Liam comes back, I will tell him the truth about Knox. But I’m done lying and hiding.”
“Millie,” I warn. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Maddox,” she says, and I don’t realize I’m crying until she kisses me again, her lips soft and gentle against mine. “Did I hurt you?” she asks, her fingers tracing the line of my ribs, a phantom touch against old bruises.
“Not anymore,” I say, kissing her back, pouring all my love, all my fear, all my hope into that one perfect kiss.