22. Chapter 22
Maddox
I awake in awe to find Rylen still by my side. I was certain that I would wake up alone after that and he would have bolted after that first time, leaving nothing but a cold indentation on the mattress.
He doesn't look away from the phone in his hand, but tightens his grip, pulling me flush against him. The weight of his arm around my back is the only thing keeping me anchored to the bed, and to the impossible reality of him actually staying.
"You're awake, again," he croaks, his voice strained from lack of use, and stripped of its usual armor. It’s a low, gravelly sound that vibrates right through my chest.
"Yeah," I whisper, the word barely making it past my teeth. I watch him for a moment, the way the light catches the sharp line of his jaw, before he finally sets the phone aside and untangles himself from me.
"I need coffee before I off-myself," he mutters, though he lingers for a second, his hand grazing my hip before he stands.
I stay there for a beat, watching him disappear through the doorway, before I finally force my body to move.
My head is still clouded with a thick, loved-up haze, my limbs heavy and slow.
I roll to the edge of the bed and scan the floor, spotting a discarded pile of clothes near the foot of the bed, and reach down, grabbing a random shirt from the heap, to pull over my head.
It smells like him—safety and warmth wrapped in one—and I sigh a breath of relief as the fabric settles against my skin.
I step out of the bedroom, sleep still clouding my head as I squint against the sunlight streaming through a nearby window.
My bare feet pad softly across the wooden floorboards.
Gremlin darts between my legs, and I nearly trip trying not to crush her beneath my step.
Bloody cat, so much for us bonding last night.
“Nope, no way. You've already ruined my favourite band shirt, I don't want you to break this one too,” Rylen’s voice is sharp, his gaze fixed on the shirt on my chest with an annoying amount of focus.
He’s leaning against the kitchen island with arms folded across his chest. The unexpected sound of his voice skids my movements to a halt, my brows pinching together in confusion.
I'm getting really tired of this back-and-forth energy.
One minute he's holding me in bed, the next he's biting my head off.
My gaze follows his, until I realise that the shirt I grabbed from the washing pile was one of Rylen’s favourites.
“I don't know, I think it looks better on me anyway.
Think I'll just leave it on,” I shrug, lips pulling up into a grin that I know will piss him off.
I continue walking to the coffee machine when a hand slams down on the counter in front of me, blocking my path.
A sigh escapes my lips as I drag my eyes to meet the hazel ones setting my very soul on fire.
“Take it off,” he says, and this time it’s lower, gritted through his teeth.
Amusement prickles the corners of my mouth but I remain silent.
I don’t even really care about the shirt, but Rylen clearly does—and seeing him actually show some emotion after a week of being a ghost is too tempting to pass up.
If he wants it, he’s going to have to work for it.
“No, I don't think I will,” I say, leaning back against the sink with my arms crossed over my chest.
“No?” He scoffs incredulously, eyebrows shooting up to his hair line. He’s practically vibrating with furious intent.
“Why does it matter? It’s just a shirt,” I laugh, taking in the sight of him. Here under the golden glow from the sun, he’s beautiful. Even if he’s staring at me like he wants to throttle me. Maybe he should. Who knows, maybe I’ll let him.
My head’s been spinning from how he’s been acting lately.
I wish I could take it all back. I wish I’d told Felicia to fuck off, that we weren’t going to have the threesome.
Most of all I wish to God that I’d never let myself know what Rylen’s lips tasted like…
I never would have kissed him if I knew it meant I’d lose my best friend in the process.
“Because it’s my shirt, so give it to me,” he whines, face scrunched up in that silly way that makes my heart race like it’s going for a new world record.
I’m still a little stung from the way he treated me last night, so I push harder.
“What am I gonna do? Get boy germs on it?” I taunt, wiggling my fingers in front of my face and sing-songing “ Oooh, I’mmm Ryyylennn, don't touch my vintage cotton— “
My teasing is cut short as I’m thrown off balance from the full force of Rylen shoving me hard in the tight confines between kitchen counters.
My hip sears as it connects with the countertop, but that only serves to amplify my laughter, even if I am doubled over in pain.
Rylen looks like he’s seeing red as he stands over me, nostrils flaring.
“Take off my shirt, Maddox. I’m not playing around.
” He’s fisting the fabric of the collar now, his knuckles brushing my collarbone.
I shove back, but his grip tightens as he stumbles, dragging me with him.
We both freeze as the threads give way, and a loud stretching sound echoes through the kitchen.
My eyes bulge wide, a cold sweat pricking at the skin along my neck.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, starring down at the growing tear along the neckline.“You fucking ripped it!” Rylen growls, his anger growing louder with each word. He shoves me a second time, and once again my hip takes the brunt of it. Yeah, that’s going to be a massive purple welt by tonight.
“ Me ? You're the one who pulled!” I scoff, palms connecting with his shoulders to throw him backwards.
Before he can retaliate I step in close, taking advantage of our height difference and cage him in with an arm on either side of his frame.
Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of his skin coming through his tank top.
Close enough to smell the fragrance of his favourite coconut and lime candle, the one Rylen has burning beside his bed at all hours, day and night.
My eyes fall shut as I inhale the scent of coconut and lime, allowing it to swirl like smoke in my mind.
When I open them back up, the first thing I notice is the way Rylen’s pulse jumps around in his neck.
His Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously in his throat as he swallows.
The tip of his tongue darting out to wet his soft full lips—lips that taste like the sweetest fruit in the whole fucking world.
Lips that I desperately want to taste again.
My jeans grow tighter the longer I let myself think about it.
I tip my chin down, closing the gap between us, moving in slow increments. Waiting to be thrown back. To have his fist collide with my jaw. But none of that comes.
My heart is beating in my throat, if I opened my mouth he would surely hear it.
He’s not reacting. Does that mean he wants this too?
That he actually meant what he said earlier?
Ry’s spine is ramrod straight as I brush my lips against his.
For one suspended heartbeat he doesn’t move, and I think I’ve ruined everything.
His hot breath against my face turns suffocating as panic clouds my remaining senses .
Then his mouth finds mine, and it’s no longer anger that pours out of him, it’s something raw, stitched together with the weight of all the years we’ve been side by side.
The kiss is rough around the edges, breaths colliding, mouths hungrily opening for more, but there’s a tenderness there that guts me.
He tastes like coming home after a long day, like everything I’ve spent the past thirteen years trying not to want.
My chest aches with the force of it. I grip his shirt like I might fall without him, like he’s the only steady thing in this spinning kitchen.
And Rylen, for all his fury, kisses me back like he hates himself for needing it but can’t stop either.
My fingers find the sides of his face, pulling him in deeper.
His palm presses flat against the small of my back, pressing our bodies flush with one another.
I can feel his hardness pressing into my thigh, it sends a throbbing ache straight to my dick.
Rolling my hips, I push in deeper, until I’m whimpering into his mouth. Already so fucking worked up.
My mind swarms with all the things I’ve always wanted to do to him, and have him do to me.
All the times I’ve touched myself at night to thoughts of Rylen and I bent over this very counter, moaning my name as he comes undone.
Then he shoves me back with such ferocity that I struggle to keep myself upright, and I know I’ve pushed him too far.
He’s looking at me with a harrowed expression I’ve never seen cross his features before.
My stomach comes plummeting down and I feel it, deep in the pit of my gut, that I’ve lost him for good.
His face is still twisted into something I’m too afraid to name, his shoulders tremble from the rate at which his breathing has picked up.
I hear my own voice coming out in a thick rasp, like I’m trapped under water.
“Ry?”
The words die as my belt whips free of its loops in one furious motion.
In the next heartbeat Rylen is on his knees before me, yanking my jeans down, and I’m too stunned to stop him.
The cool air hits my hard cock giving it an involuntary twitch.
But it’s soon replaced by the warmth of Rylen’s mouth as his lips seal around my length.
A strangled groan rips out of me as I tilt my hips forward to meet his touch. My head falls back and my eyes close on their own. His mouth feels so fucking good, so much better than I’d ever dreamed it could.
“You—oh, fuck —you don't have to do that,” I try to say, but it comes out too weak. We both know that I’m not really fighting it. I want this. I want him .