Chapter 19 Madelina
“I could get used to pancakes in bed.”
Elliot has managed to cook a gourmet breakfast while I fell back to sleep after he woke me up with a good-morning orgasm.
Every inch of me aches, especially when Elliot places the tray on my lap and I’m forced to sit up.
On the plate is a stack of fluffy, golden pancakes, with warm syrup that cascades like liquid gold.
Beside it sits a row of strawberries sprinkled with what appears to be icing sugar, and my savior—caffeine.
I’m absolutely starving from spending the night partaking in sexual activities.
After we realized there were no condoms left, it almost put a damper on things.
But then the night took this wild turn. To be honest, I lost count of how many times we did it. Elliot was insatiable.
Beneath the sheets, my nipples turn hard, but they’re sore from all the foreplay and they sting, causing me to wince.
I snap out of the daydream and try to focus back on the pancakes.
“Is everything okay?” Elliot asks beside me, his eyes furrowing with concern.
“These are the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted,” I say, quick to distract him from my ailment.
“Hey, if you want to have your way with me, you know you just need to ask, right? No need for all this flattery,” he teases, a roguish smirk dancing across his lips.
I take another bite, but the thought of him inside me again spreads a pool of moisture between my legs, forcing my whole body to react. I wince again, then place the fork down, taking a deep breath.
“Okay, will you tell me what’s wrong?” Elliot questions again.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than Margaret Anne watching you come?”
I press my lips together to suppress my smile, but of course, I fail. Margaret Anne is a voyeur, which should be noted for next time.
If there is a next time.
“It’s just, everything is kind of sore, and every time you talk, move, or even breathe, it’s kinda, you know… turning me on, which then makes everything sore again.”
Elliot pouts, but his devilish grin lingers. “Poor baby. Did I fuck you too hard?”
I nod, pretending to play the victim.
“I have an idea,” Elliot says, keeping his tone calm. “How about you finish breakfast, then hop in the shower. The warm water may help.”
“That should help,” I say, but then my expression shifts as I note the time. “Um, I need to go help Billie with opening the café. We should probably, you know, talk about last night, and this morning.”
“Madelina, we don’t have to process everything right now,” he interjects lightly.
“We don’t?”
“Nope! It can just be whatever it is,” he assures me in a casual tone.
“Okay,” I drag, but then cock my head with confusion. “But what exactly is that?”
“Will you just go to work? I’ll swing by later. I need to wrap up some emails.”
“Fine, but you know you’re annoying, right?” I retort, rolling my eyes while struggling to hide my smile.
I take a final bite, then hop out of bed and look for my clothes, which are scattered on the floor. As soon as I have them in my hands, Elliot jumps ahead of me and blocks my way to the bathroom. His fingers dance over my hips, a hidden agenda behind the simple touch.
“Careful now, if you keep up with this naughty behavior, I might just have to take you into the shower and show you exactly what I can do. And we both know how much you loathe shower sex.”
A mischievous grin spreads across my face. “Is that a threat, Mr. Woods? Well, your pancakes sucked. How do you like them apples?”
Elliot runs his thumb against my bottom lip. “Did they?”
I nod, holding my breath since this is going to end only one way. “Yeah, I was after more cream.”
His gaze shifts from my lips to the tank top in my hand. Suddenly, he tilts his head and asks, “What does your shirt stand for?”
I glance down, biting my lip teasingly. “Shut the fuck up and take that dick like a good girl.”
Elliot lifts my chin, pressing his body against mine and, no surprise, he is rock hard again.
“Well, Miss Beaumont, on your knees, and shut the fuck up and take that dick like a good girl.”
“Have you ever had shower sex?” I ask as we stand inside the kitchen.
Billie squeezes the piping bag too hard, and the crème splatters chaotically against the counter and the wall.
“Wow, that visual really illustrated my answer,” Billie laughs, then tries to catch her breath. “Yes, I have, in college, and it was the best sex of my life. But the real question is, why are you asking?”
“Just a scene in a book,” I mumble, brushing it off like it’s nothing.
“There’s actually some science to it.”
“Uh huh, go on?”
“Like, you really need to ramp up the foreplay. And when you’re in the moment, the trick is not to stand directly under the water because you lose all the lubrication. You want to be pressed against the wall, where the water is still flowing, but not drenching you. Does that make sense?”
“One hundred percent,” I reply, nodding. “I mean, yeah, I tried it once and it was a complete disaster. It was in college, too. He just kept going, and all I could hear was that awful slapping sound, which completely threw me off. Then, his roommate walked in, and it was officially all over.”
Billie cringes. “Yeah, the echo can be intense, but guys seem to love that.”
I steadily lift the matcha-flavored donuts from the icing tray, their vibrant green and white glaze shimmering under the soft light as I carry them out front.
Thankfully, today is less busy than usual, with mainly our regulars and a few out-of-towners. I’m counting down the minutes until I can climb back into bed. Every muscle in my body feels achy, as if I’ve just completed a marathon.
Suddenly, one of the donuts slips from the tongs, tumbling through the air in a slow-motion spiral before landing with a gentle thud on the floor.
“Oh, you slippery little fucker,” I mutter under my breath.
I bend down to retrieve it, knowing it’s destined for the trash, but wince as a jolt of pain shoots through my back.
“Are you okay?” Billie’s concerned voice pulls me back to reality. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Yeah, I kinda slept the wrong way, so, you know,” I reply, forcing a casual tone.
I hate lying to Billie, but I have to for now. Elliot is Eva’s older brother, and whether I like it or not, things got complicated and real fast.
“I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow after a good night’s rest.”
My cell phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans, distracting me momentarily. I pull it out to see a text from Elliot on the screen.
Elliot
Just an FYI, Billie needs to leave at three today.
Elliot
I wonder how you’d taste if you were lying across the counter with your legs spread open?
My eyes widen at his text. I quickly type a response before Billie comes and finds me and wonders why I can’t wipe this smile off my face.
Me
Behave. Billie has the nose of a bloodhound. Remember, we’re just friends—no strings attached.
Elliot
We’ll see if you feel the same way after I make you come again.
I slide my phone back into my pocket, ignoring his wicked game despite the smile permanently fixed on my face.
Even if I wanted to tell Billie, I couldn’t.
Last night was something I’ve never experienced before, not even with Myles.
Sure, there were moments where the sex was great with him, but Elliot was next level.
And I can’t stop thinking about it.
It has to be because he is supposed to be off-limits.
With the dishes done and the last batch of donuts ready to go out front, Billie quickly finds me inside the refrigerator, doing a quick inventory, since she had mentioned we were low on a few things.
She pulls me to where the slight arch in the wall provides a window to the front of the café.
“What are you doing?” I question. “I just lost count of the milk cartons.”
“Okay, so listen to this. There’s a woman at the counter. Do you see her? The brunette.”
I glance through the window to see a beautiful woman standing at the counter, her long hair falling over her shoulders.
She looks strikingly familiar, but I can’t figure out where I know her from.
The way she dresses tells me she’s not from around here.
The vest and matching pants look formal, almost as if she belongs in the city at a corporate job.
Still, she has the face of a model. Beautiful features that would make her extremely photogenic.
“She says her name is Nicole, and guess what?” Billie continues. “She claims she’s Elliot’s girlfriend.”
I recoil slightly, a knot forming in my stomach. “Um, I thought they broke up.”
“Well, it sounds like she doesn’t know that.
She specifically asked for Elliot, her boyfriend,” Billie informs me.
All I can do is stare at the woman from behind the wall.
“Elliot is hot, even if you don’t want to admit it.
Of course, he ain’t single. It’s why he never dates or mentions any other women. ”
“Uh, huh…”
“You need to go out there and talk to her. Get the lowdown,” Billie insists.
“What lowdown?” I ask, a sudden growl escaping my throat. “If she says he’s her boyfriend, I’m sure it’s true. Why would she lie?”
Billie shrugs. “Exactly! Now go get the tea.”
Without hesitation, Billie pushes me outside, catching Nicole’s attention. I force a smile, unsure what to say. I could start with, Hey, so I fucked your boyfriend bareback last night and got on my knees this morning. I gave him the best blow job of his life… But that seems highly inappropriate.
“Hi, I’m Maddy. I work with Elliot,” I quickly introduce myself.
“It’s nice to meet you. Do you know where he is?” Nicole asks, her eyes scanning the café.
I shake my head, doing my best to remain calm and ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. “I don’t, but he’s due here any minute if you’d like to wait.”
Nicole exhales softly, her fingers fidgeting with the gold rings adorning them, each twist echoing her anxious energy. “He has no idea I’m here,” she rushes out, her nerves getting the better of her.
“Excuse me for being forward,” I say, keeping my tone stable to get the so-called tea. “But I didn’t realize Elliot had a girlfriend.”
“It’s complicated,” she replies simply.
“I bet,” I mutter with irritation. “The more in love you are, the more tangled it becomes.”
“I do love him,” she confesses, her eyes baring her emotions to me, a complete stranger. “It’s why I traveled all the way from Paris. What we had, it’s worth fighting for. I know he still loves me.”
I nod with a downward gaze, rapidly swallowing while trying to make sense of how Elliot could lie to me. It serves me right for thinking he was different from all the other men I’ve been with.
And that flicker of hope, the way our eyes locked every time he was inside me, makes this feel so much worse.
“Like I said, I’m sure he’ll be here—”
The door swings open, catching my attention.
Elliot steps in, a wide grin illuminating his face.
He’s casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee, looking so devastatingly handsome for someone who has been lying to me.
I break his gaze, and with confusion in his face, he scans the café until his eyes land on Nicole.
The warmth radiating from him instantly fades. Elliot freezes on the spot, almost as if he’s seen a ghost.
Or in this case, his girlfriend, whom he has cheated on.
“Speak of the devil,” I mumble as he walks over to us with a look of dread.
“Elliot,” Nicole breathes, her face softening upon seeing him.
I glance at Billie, who is watching the unfolding drama with wide, curious eyes. My stomach churns painfully, each twist reminding me how stupid I’ve been to fall for all his tricks.
“It was nice meeting you, Nicole,” I rush, trying to remain professional since all around us, customers sit eating their lunch without a care in the world.
“Excuse me while I get back to work.” I retreat to the kitchen, forcing myself to avert my gaze, determined not to eavesdrop on their conversation through the wall.
My mind keeps wandering back to last night, the way Elliot held on to me while we slept. The words he uttered while inside me, telling me I was like no other woman he’d been with.
Curiosity beckons like a stranger luring me into a van with candy dangled in front of my face.
The temptation overcomes me, my eyes shifting toward the gap in the wall to see what is happening.
The tension is palpable. Elliot’s expression switches to anger, his veins bulging on his forehead as he struggles to keep his voice low. I’ve never seen him like this.
The café continues to buzz with chatter, drowning out their words. The only thing I can hear is the sound of my beating heart, loud and echoing, climbing up into my throat and making it difficult to breathe.
Moments later, Elliot cautiously makes his way into the kitchen, his eyes darting back and forth to ensure Billie is still preoccupied with Mrs. Bertram.
She graced us with her presence earlier, and considering she’s been watching this unfold, I wouldn’t be surprised if this makes front-page news tomorrow.
“Madelina, it’s not what you think,” he implores, frustration creeping into his tone.
“I think your girlfriend flew all the way from Paris because she misses you,” I deadpan, remorse clawing at my chest. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do, boss.”
As I walk past him with the desperate need to end this conversation, Elliot reaches out, latching on to my arm with a possessive grip.
“Don’t do this,” he pleads. “We need to talk.”
I turn my gaze toward him, feeling the weight of his betrayal. “I’m not doing anything. In fact, I’m holding up my end of the agreement. No strings attached. As for you, your string is waiting out front.”
I step out of the kitchen and put on a fake smile for the people of Cinnamon Springs.
But inside, my pride is wounded.
What a big fucking mistake.
And the regret only grows when I watch Elliot walk out with the woman he loves.