Chapter 23 #2
Noah sits across from me, relaxed in that careless way that drives me crazy sometimes. Wes is beside him, sharp-eyed and bone-dry sarcastic, the only man on earth who can make a completely neutral expression look judgmental.
Noah leans back in his chair, stretches out his legs, and points his fork at Wes. “Okay, I have a proposal,” he says loudly. “We should form—hear me out—a Cove crew.”
Ford groans. “Cove crew?” he repeats, skeptical. “You probably should have workshopped this one a bit more before saying it out loud.”
Landyn swats at his arm, laughing. “Say more, Noah. What would we do?”
“Team building,” Noah says proudly.
“Like trust falls?” Wes deadpans.
Ford shakes his head. “I’m not catching any of you.”
Landyn looks at him, eyebrows raised.
“Except you, baby. I would catch you every time,” he says, reaching over to grab her hand. “I’m talking to the rest of these dummies.”
“Daddy!” Poppy admonishes. “You shouldn’t say dummies.” She whispers the last word very dramatically.
“You’re right, Poppy,” he agrees, looking at her like she hung the moon.
Noah launches into his plan to rope the staff into weekly axe throwing practices, but I am only half-listening, my attention fixed on Madeline.
She sits next to me, looking entertained as she listens to my brothers rib each other.
Her gaze catches on mine and lingers for just a moment before her attention is pulled away by Becca, who is on her other side.
Eventually, we all drift back into the house for dessert.
I circle around the edges of the living room, scanning the clusters of people, looking for her.
I finally find her back on the patio. She’s alone, sitting at the fire pit, running her fingertips along the rim of an empty wineglass.
I’m not surprised to find her outside by herself.
The more time I’ve spent with her, the more I’ve come to understand her.
She feels everything deeply, pays attention to the smallest shifts in a room, and when things get loud or crowded or overstimulating, she slips away to breathe.
Not because she’s avoiding anyone but because she just needs a moment to reset.
To get quiet enough to hear her own thoughts again.
So, seeing her here, tucked into the soft light of the fire, isn’t unexpected.
I walk outside and set a piece of chocolate cake on the edge of the fire table, then take a seat next to her on the couch. I sit close enough that my knee brushes hers—not accidental, not something I pretend to correct.
“Thought you might want to share a piece,” I tell her, nodding to the three-layer slab of dark chocolate cake. “And I was hoping we could talk.”
She blinks. “You brought me dessert?”
“I did,” I say, reaching for the plate and handing it to her. “I am, after all, your fake boyfriend. I figure I should continue to do fake boyfriend things.”
Her lips part in surprise before curling into a quiet laugh. “Fake boyfriends feed their girlfriends dessert now?”
“They do if they’re over-achievers,” I say. I’d promised to be her fake boyfriend at the gala, and if leaning into that role now is my way in, then I’ll be the best fucking fake boyfriend the world has ever seen.
She waves the plate away. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly eat your chocolate cake.”
I raise a brow. “No problem. I’ll eat it.”
Lifting the fork, I dig into the cake and bring it toward my mouth before she stops me. “Wait,” she says, lips parting in mock offense. “You’re really going to sit here and eat that in front of me?”
I laugh. “I thought you didn’t want it?”
She gives me the most dramatic, affronted stare. “Of course, I want it.” She holds out her hand, pouting her bottom lip. My dick perks up in an instant.
I lean back, plate still in my hand. “Is that how you ask for something you want?”
Her eyes glint in a playful, dangerous way. “Oh, we’re asking nicely now? Since when?”
I bite back a smile. Flirting with Madeline is on the top of my list of favourite things to do. “Since I’m holding the fork.”
Her gaze flicks to it, then to me. “Then feed me.”
My breath stutters, but I dig my fork into the cake, lifting a gooey, perfect bite.
She eases closer without being told—her thigh pressing fully against mine now, heat curling under my skin.
I hold the fork in front of her mouth, and she parts her lips slowly and confidently, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
When I slide the bite past her lips, her eyes flutter closed and a low, sinful hum vibrates in her throat.
Jesus.
She licks a smear of chocolate from her bottom lip, eyes opening again, warm and dark and full of want.
“Good?” I ask, my voice not nearly steady enough.
“You have no idea,” she murmurs.
I swallowed hard, the fire table crackling between us, the night soft and quiet, her shoulder brushing mine every time she breathes.
“So, you wanted to talk?” Madeline twists to face me. A piece of hair has fallen loose and without thinking I reach out to tuck it behind her ear, then I run the tips of my fingers down the length of Madeline’s arm. She shivers.
I try to keep my voice steady. “Yeah. I do.”
Ever since we spent the weekend together, I’ve been walking around with her under my skin.
I’ve been giving her time to reconcile it all in her mind, worried that she might regret sleeping with me.
Hoping she hasn’t changed her mind. But I am done being patient.
With every day that passes, I become even more certain that what I’m feeling for my fake girlfriend is very real.
And it’s more than attraction. I have a big fucking crush on her.
“I wanted to say something…about that night,” I tell her, my thumb brushing the soft inside of her wrist.
Her eyes flick up. I can feel her nerves kick into overdrive. “Jesse…”
“I don’t regret it,” I say softly, before she can spiral. “Not even for a second. I never have.”
Her breath catches.
“I’m glad it happened, Mads.” My lips curve, just a little. “Really glad. And I want you to know that I think about it all the time, hoping it will inevitably happen again.”
She swallows. “After everything that happened the next morning, I thought maybe…”
“That didn’t change anything,” I tell her. “I liked being with you, Mads. I liked being close to you. That’s the problem. I liked it way too much.” Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “And I,” I add, leaning in just a fraction, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The noise she makes sounds almost like a whimper. She leans into me, forehead brushing my shoulder, her body melting against me, almost like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.
“That was…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “That was incredibly hot, Jesse.”
My pulse kicks.
“Good job ruining my self-control,” she says. “Sitting through the rest of tonight like this is going to be torture.”
My brain short-circuits. “What did you just say?” I ask, not quite trusting my own ears.
She snorts—a tiny, mortified laugh—and lets her head fall fully against my shoulder. “Oh, you heard me,” she laughs. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
“I’m not pretending,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’m just trying to survive.”
“What you said to me just now? That was straight out of one of the romance books I read.”
“Yeah? So, you’re a romance fan?”
She groans into my sleeve. “Oh my God, yes. I read them. I listen to them too. It’s like—” she waves a hand vaguely “—porn for your…ears.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Porn for your ears?”
She chokes on a laugh. “Sorry. I guess I’m not thinking straight after you…”
“After I what?”
She covers her face with her hands. “I can’t say it.”
“Mads, did I—”
“Turn me on? Yes, yes you did… and my underwear are ruined.”
I turn to look at her, taking a deep, steadying breath as I do. “Mads, I’m begging you to stop talking like that, unless you want me to sit here with a hard-on in front of the entire Cove team.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait…are you serious? Are you hard right now thinking about book porn?”
This girl has no idea what she’s doing to me. The truth is, I am so wrapped up in Madeline Ashcroft, it’s hard to think straight. “No, Mads, I’m hard thinking about the mess in your underwear.”
“Jesse. I think you just made it worse.”
“Stop being a bad girl,” I say, shifting in my seat. “If you don’t stop, there is going to be a problem in my pants, and it will be all your fault.”
“And what if I don’t stop?” she says, teeth digging into her bottom lip.
I stare at her, stunned, heat pooling low and hard and impossible to ignore behind the zipper of my pants.
I press my finger to her bottom lip to pry the flesh free.
Her eyes lock on mine and there is zero restraint left in me.
I ignore the fact that I’m at a fucking staff party in Ford’s backyard and I crush my lips to Madeline’s in a searing hot kiss.
I pull back, cupping her cheek in my hand.
“Mads…fuck… I need you to meet me in the bathroom, the one in the basement next to the theatre room or I’m going to strip you out of your clothes right here on this couch and fuck you. I’ll be right there.”
“Are you sure? We won’t get caught?” she breathes.
“I’m positive. Now go. I need to be inside you.”
She looks at me for a second longer, then stands up, smoothing her black dress down before she turns and quickly walks toward the house. I stay here for a minute a little stunned, the imprint of her mouth still burning against mine.
When she disappears into the house, I drag in a steadying breath and try to make myself look halfway normal rearranging my dick in my pants, running a hand through my hair, and forcing my pulse to calm the hell down.
I follow her into the house, looking around to make sure nobody is paying attention.
The last thing I need is anyone from Cove knowing what we are about to do.
Whatever happens next in that bathroom is between her and me.
I slip past the guests who are still lingering over dessert and nightcaps, too busy to notice me escape down the stairs to the basement. When I reach the bathroom, I push the door open gently and see Madeline leaning against the counter. She meets my eyes as I reach behind me and lock the door.
“Do you have a thing for sneaky bathroom sex?” she asks.
“Only if it’s you I’m being sneaky with,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt until I’m shrugging out of it and tossing it to the floor. “Now, take off your dress.”