Chapter 8 Make Me Beg
MAKE ME BEG
HUNTER
She did something I never could. She organized the shit out of everything.
I stare at the laptop screen, scrolling through the files she’s touched.
The roster’s color-coded, stocktake alphabetized.
Even the folders look cleaner. Everything I’d been meaning to do but never had the patience for.
My half-assed, lazy system worked fine for me, but this…
Holy shit. She didn’t just fix it, she made it better.
“Hey, man.”
I glance up to find Asher dropping onto the two-seater against the wall, his legs sprawled, taking up half the couch.
“Did you know Madison was doing all of this?” I wave a hand at the screen. “Have you seen what she’s done?”
The smirk he gives me twists something low in my chest, like there’s an inside joke here I haven’t been let in on.
“What?” I ask, suspicion lacing my tone.
“She did good, hey?” he says, casual as hell.
My eyes narrow. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. Just sits there with that infuriating grin until my brain finally catches up.
I lean back in my chair. “What’s the bet?” I ask him with a matching smirk, playing at my lips.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asher says, tilting his head.
“Yeah, right. How much do you win if I throw a hissy fit over this?”
His smile widens, teeth flashing as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fifty bucks if you lose your shit. Connor reckons you’ll go the other way and praise her for the effort.”
Footsteps pound down the hallway before I can respond. Connor appears in the doorway, bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, like he ran here.
“Did I miss it? What’d he do?” he pants.
They’re both watching me now, waiting, their eyes bright. I glance between them, then back to the laptop. The color-coded tabs stare back at me, organized and perfect. I smile slowly. Let them sweat as they wait.
“Asher, pay the man,” I say.
“Fuck yes!” Connor punches the air.
“Dude, seriously?” Asher grumbles, digging into his back pocket for his wallet.
“Have you seen what she’s done?” I gesture toward the screen. “This would have taken fucking months with the state I left it in.”
“Five actually.”
Her voice comes from behind Connor, and he immediately steps to the side.
The world spins, then stops. My pulse kicks hard.
My toes feel numb. I stop breathing. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Air burns its way into my chest, and I push to my feet, nearly tripping over them.
My palms slap against the desk before I catch myself.
I stand, praying for my brain to signal to my toes to wake up. To calm the fucking nerves.
“Madi, Madison, hi. Uh, hey.” The words tumble out of me before I can stop them, and I internally cringe.
Asher and Connor’s snickers echo somewhere around me, but they’re background noise compared to her.
She stands there like she’s not sure if she should stay or go, one hand brushing her arm, her hair spilling down her back in loose waves that catch the light.
Those black ankle boots I love lead up to her curvy legs and those damn denim shorts.
The ones that fit like they were made for her.
The ones that make my hands ache to touch, to hold.
“Dude,” Connor barks, dragging my attention to him. “Stop ogling her, it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“I’m not…” My eyes shift back to her before I can stop them.
She’s tugging on the hem of her shorts, eyes cast down. Fuck.
“Sorry, Mads, I’m—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.
The words hit like a slap.
“Sorry,” I mumble, staring at the floor.
“Right,” Asher cuts in, standing and clapping Connor on the back. “This is awkward as hell, and I don’t think any of us want to work in these conditions, so I suggest you two have that talk.” He looks at his watch. “Doors open soon, so make it quick.”
“Madi, baby,” Connor says, giving her that over-the-top, serious look. “Don’t take any shit and scream if you need me.” He winks, spinning on his heel and heading out before she can respond.
Asher groans. “What he means is—Madison, we’re here if you need us. And you too, bro.” He nods in my direction, his tone softening.
The tension in the air is so thick, it could choke a man.
My heart’s pounding so hard, I swear it’s trying to break free, desperate to get to her, to give itself over and be done with it.
I know this isn’t going to be an easy fix.
I don’t want it to be. She deserves more than that.
Madison deserves my groveling. Hell, if she told me to crawl, I’d drop to my knees and do it.
I’ll fucking crawl to her.
She takes Asher’s seat, her back ramrod straight as her gaze darts anywhere but at me.
I can’t believe I let it go this far. Can’t believe I lost her because of my own stupidity.
I sit beside her, lean forward, and slip my thumb under her chin.
Her breath stutters, eyes snapping to mine just as I tilt her face up.
I can’t breathe with her this close. Her scent wraps around me—sunny citrus with a hint of something sweet, like apples—and it hits me hard.
Every memory floods back at once: her skin against mine, the sound of her laugh, those nights tangled in the sheets with her, breathing her in, soaking in every second we had.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper.
She turns her head away, staring at the wall.
My hand falls uselessly between us. Every instinct in me screams to reach for her.
To hold her, to make this right, but I stop myself.
She needs space, a moment to collect her thoughts.
I watch her chest rise and fall in an uneven rhythm, the small jump of her pulse at her throat, the way her fingers twist together in her lap.
The silence stretches, heavy enough to crush me.
Just when I think I’ve lost all hope, that I’m sure she’s going to walk out, she turns toward me.
One look, and I feel myself crack in half.
Tears pool in her eyes, her bottom lip trembles, and before I can think better of it, I pull her into me.
My arms wrap around her, desperate and tight.
Her shoulders tremble at first, but only for a few seconds before her hands press against my chest, pushing me back. My breath hitches. I reach for her, but she throws up a hand between us, stopping me cold.
“You hurt me,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“No.” Her voice cracks. “You left. And I knew when Asher came home and told me you were staying. I knew you were confronting him. Facing those demons.”
She stands, pacing the small space in front of my desk. Each step feels like it’s dragging my heart with it. Her shoulders dip, the battle behind her eyes finally winning out. I suck in a shuddering breath, waiting—hoping—for her to continue.
“I was proud of you.” Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I was so fucking proud you were fighting back.” Her tone sharpens, heat flashing behind those deep brown eyes. “But then you didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t answer.”
I stand, taking a cautious step closer to her.
“You ghosted me,” she says, her chin lifting until her eyes meet mine.
At six-two, I tower over her. Yet somehow, she’s the one making me feel small.
The defiance in her eyes, though, the tilt to her chin, the confidence radiating off her in this moment.
It’s everything I admire, and everything I shattered.
She’s right. I ghosted her, and it’s not okay. What I did was wrong.
“Why did you ghost me?” she asks, her voice trembling despite the fire in her stare.
I pause, watching the confidence drain from her. Tears well in her eyes again, her gaze dropping to the floor. I take another slow step toward her. This time, she steps back, bumping into the desk, and my hand instinctively finds her hip, steadying her before she can move away.
“Don’t do that,” I grit out, my voice low. “Don’t shrink from me, baby girl. You have every right to be mad at me, to be disappointed. I fucking deserve it.”
My thumb brushes the sliver of skin between her shorts and work shirt, a touch I shouldn’t crave right now, but can’t stop.
Her eyes harden the longer she looks at me, and I silently urge her to take her power back.
Because knowing I’m the reason she lost it kills me.
My favorite thing about her has always been how loud, sassy, caring, and strong she is.
I take a slow, shaky breath, forcing the anger back down.
It isn’t for her, it’s for me. I’m the idiot who did this.
“Make me beg, Madison.” My voice cracks around her name. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness… Please.” The word scrapes out of me before I can stop it, and I choke back the rest. I promised I wouldn’t push her.
Silence fills the space between us. The air hums with heat and uncertainty.
I’m leaving everything up to her, every chance, every question, every piece of me.
Her gaze roams over me, slow and searching, and I feel every second of it down to my toes.
Heat coils low in my stomach, electricity sparking from where my thumb rests against her soft skin.
Come on, baby, make me beg.
Her lips purse as she reaches out, looping a finger through the belt loop of my jeans and tugging me closer.
My breath stutters. Her chest rises and falls, quick and uneven, like she’s fighting the same pull that’s dragging me under.
It’s inevitable, though. The longer I stand here with her this close, the stronger it gets—the heat between us, the ache for what we used to be.
I know that when I earn her forgiveness, when she finally trusts me again, when she believes that I’m never leaving her side…
we’ll go up in flames, and neither of us will be able to stop it.
“Why…” Her voice comes out stronger, more confident as her eyes harden. “Why did you ghost me?”
“I’m sorr—” I start, but her hand comes up, stopping me.
“No, I know you’re sorry. I believe you when you say it. But I need to know why. I need to know what happened. Why did you shut me out after all these years of being by your side?” She blows out a shaky breath.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” I whisper, leaning in until my forehead rests against hers. “I want to show you something. I want to tell you everything. There are things I need you to know, demons that live inside me that you haven’t met.”
Her hands grip the backs of my arms, waiting for me to continue. But before I can, a sharp knock rattles the door, snapping the moment in half. The world floods back in, too bright, too loud. The light above the desk blinds me as I tip my head back and curse under my breath.
“Not to break up the progress, guys,” Connor calls from the other side, “but doors are open.”
“We’ll be right there,” Madison yells back, and I tighten my hold on her hip.
Fuck. I don’t want to let her go. Not now. Not when we are finally starting to breathe the same air again. I don’t want to leave this unfinished. She slips out of my grip, stepping away. The warmth of her touch fades, and I hate how cold I feel without it.
“Will you go for a drive with me tonight?” I ask, before she leaves.
She pauses with her hand on the door, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes ping between mine, and she must see the desperation there. Her face softens before she twists the handle.
“No,” she says, and walks out.
I hang my head, exhaling through a laugh that’s more bittersweet than amusement. I told her not to shrink. I told her to make me beg. That right there, that was my girl taking her power back.