Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
LUKE
Ilean against my truck with my arms crossed, watching through the large glass windows of the mechanic shop. Madeline is in the office, bent over paperwork, her hair falling across her face. She looks tired, but she’s still as beautiful as ever.
The side door opens from the shop into the office, and Joey strolls in.
Madeline lifts her head, giving him a smile as the asshat leans on her desk.
I watch his mouth move, and a half a beat later, Madeline is laughing.
My jaw tightens. I hate that he can bring out that side of her.
I know it’s absurd and that my thoughts are barbaric when it comes to her.
I watch, forcing myself to stay put. While we have been busy the past few days with school, her job, and hockey, we’ve still managed to hang out.
I’ve made progress with Madeline, and the last time I went into the mechanic shop like a bull, it hadn’t earned me any points with her.
That said, if he moves any closer, all bets are off.
I keep watching them through the glass. He stays too long, finds reasons to touch the papers she’s holding, and points at her computer screen to lean closer.
She doesn’t pull away. That’s because she doesn’t see what he is, but I fucking know.
His nice guy act isn’t fooling me. He wants what’s mine. Over my dead body.
Finally, he leaves, heading back toward the shop area. I push off the truck and circle around back. He and I are going to have a word, only I’m making sure Madeline doesn’t see it this time.
The garage doors are open, and the shop is emptying out for the day. I find him in the backyard, playing on his phone.
He looks up, surprised. It quickly turns wary. Smart.
“Luke.” He slips his phone into his pocket. Does he have Madeline’s number? I’m sure he does since she works there. “Help you with something?”
“I don’t buy your good-boy act,” I tell him, stepping closer, crowding him against the workbench, using my size to scare the shit out of him.
“The helpful local. The nice guy. I know what you are.” I might not be from Charming, but I’ve gone to school here for years.
I don’t pay much attention to gossip because normally I don’t care, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear shit.
His jaw tightens. “You don’t know shit about me, rich boy.”
“I know you stare a little too long at my girl. Make up bullshit reasons to talk to her. Whatever you got in that head of yours about her, you need to forget it. It’s not happening.” I lean in, voice dropping to a growl. “Or I’ll knock it the fuck out of your skull myself.”
Joey doesn’t back down. I see it in his eyes—a mix of anger and calculation, if I’m reading him right. “Madeline’s too good for you.”
“I know.” Predictable retort. I give him a cold, sharp smile. “But she’s still mine.”
We stare each other down, the threat hanging in the air. He looks away first.
“Glad we understand each other. Don’t make me come back because I won’t say it again.” I turn and walk back to the front, making sure I’m leaning against my truck like nothing happened when the bell above the door rings. Madeline steps out.
She’s pulled her hair back. There is a small smudge of grease on her cheek. She lights up when she sees me, making my chest tighten. No one’s face has ever lit up that way when they saw me standing there.
“Hey,” she says, crossing the street. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long.” I reach for her, pull her close, and kiss her hard enough that Joey will see if he’s watching from the window, making my message all the clearer to him. “Brought dinner.”
Her eyes widen. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to.” I open the passenger door and help her in.
“You’re obsessed with me eating.” Yeah, I didn’t expect that either, but I find myself needing to make sure she eats and that she gets good sleep. It’s a compulsion I can’t stop. The need to take care of her overwhelms most of my thoughts throughout the days lately.
“Taking care of my girl.” That gets me another smile. I lean in and kiss her one more time before I shut the door and go around to the driver’s side. “There’s a place I want to show you. We can eat there.”
“Sounds good.” She pulls out her phone, and I know she’s texting Georgia to let her know. I reach over and put my hand on her thigh as we fall into easy conversation. We both stay away from the murder shit.
We’re in a bit of a holding pattern. It’s only a matter of time before the police start piecing things together. They must be collecting cell data and everything else. I wonder if Grant could get access to that.
My blood starts to hum when she puts her hand on top of mine on her thigh. See, progress. Joey’s ass is fucking lucky.
The road winds up, away from town, until we break through the trees onto a grassy hilltop. Below us, the lake stretches dark and endless, the last of the sunset bleeding orange across the water.
I spread a blanket in the truck bed and unpack the food I grabbed from the diner. Burgers, fries, two milkshakes. Nothing fancy. She doesn’t need fancy. Thoughtful is more her speed.
Madeline sits cross-legged, looking out at the view. “This is beautiful, Luke.”
“Yeah.” I’m not looking at the lake but directly at her.
She catches my stare and blushes, biting off a piece of her burger to hide it. We eat, the silence easy, and I watch her relax in a way she never does at school. Here, she’s not the scholarship girl. Not Luke Locke’s girl. Just herself.
“How was work?” I ask, taking a bite of my food.
“I like the shop.” She lets out a sigh that sounds tired. “More than I expected. It reminds me of home. My dad’s garage, the guys working on engines, and the smell of oil and metal.” She laughs, self-conscious. “That probably sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I thought I’d have to quit—don’t get all excited—given that the coursework is heavier at Kingmakers, I’d need more time to study.” She picks at her fries. “But I’m keeping up. And I like having the job. It feels... real. Like I belong somewhere.”
I hear what she’s not saying. She doesn’t feel like she belongs at Kingmakers Prep. With me.
“You belong with me,” I say, rougher than I mean to.
Her eyes meet mine, surprised. Then soft. “Luke—”
“I know I’m not good for you. I know I’m fucked up, possessive, a pushy asshole, or whatever.” I set down my food and turn to face her fully. “But I’m trying. For you. To be what you need.”
She sets her milkshake aside and shifts closer.
“This is supposed to be fake,” she says.
“It’s never been fake for me, and you know that.”
“I suppose I do. It’s in the things you do.” She shifts closer. “And I think you are what I need.”
“Buttercup—” She kisses me. Soft, tentative, then deeper when I groan and pull her into my lap. Her legs straddle my hips, her hands in my hair, and I’m fucking lost. Gone. Hers. Forever.
I kiss her like I’m starving because I am.
I’ve been that way since the first time I touched her.
Hell, I’ve been hungry my whole life for this and haven’t known it until she was here, in front of me.
My hands slide under her shirt and find her bare skin, and she arches into me with a sound that breaks something in my chest.
“Luke,” she breathes against my lips. Need and desire drip off the one word.
“Tell me to stop.” I’m already hard, grinding up against her, desperate. “Tell me and I will.” I’m treading on an edge that scares even me. When it comes to Madeline, I’m not rational and do shit I never thought I would.
She doesn’t tell me to stop. Madeline bears down, grinding her pussy against my cock, meeting my thrust, and we both moan.
I roll her over, lay her back on the blanket, and settle between her thighs. The lake spreads below us, dark and endless, but I only see her. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes glazed with want.
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” I growl and yank myself down for another kiss.
We move together, the friction building. My hand slides between us, finds the button of her jeans, and pops it open. She arches into me when my fingers slip beneath the denim and under the cotton of her panties.
She’s bare. Soaked. My groan tears out of me, raw and desperate. My balls are starting to ache, my cock leaking. Fuck, I’m going to get off from this alone.
“Luke,” she breathes, her hips rocking into my touch.
I find her clit and rub slow circles, watching her face. Her eyes flutter shut, her mouth falls open, and she whimpers my name. It goes straight to my soul, if I have one. I pay attention to everything to see what her body is responding to. I speed up, pressing harder, feeling her tense beneath me.
“Come for me,” I whisper against her jaw. “Let me feel you.”
She shatters, body tensing, moaning loudly enough to carry across the water.
I push my hand down farther, rubbing my palm on her clit as I slide a finger inside of her tightness and feel her pussy pulse around it, and I’m gone.
I grind against her hip, the pressure and the sound of her release pushing me over toward my own release.
I imagine my dick is where my finger is and how it will feel when one day I really do slip inside of her.
Madeline is so fucking tight, and I only have a single digit inside. It’s too much.
I groan into her neck, spilling in my jeans, the orgasm tearing through me.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my hand still tucked inside her jeans, tracing lazy patterns. The stars come out, one by one, and I hold her like I can keep her forever.
Like I can keep her safe from whatever’s coming.