He didn’t mean anything by it, I didn’t think. But I crawled up onto the window sill and looked back at him. He did. He had my back. I shivered and it wasn’t from the cold.
When we got inside, the apartment was brisk from the window being open, but I barely noticed. Maddox unbuttoned his shirt as he walked, peeling it off by the time he reached the couch. I did the same. He took his pants off and sat down, hands resting on his knees after he rolled on a condom.
“Come here,” he demanded.
I moved in front of him and he yanked my sweatpants down and lifted me with one hand onto him.
We were deep kisses and hot thrusts. Urgent grappling and hot whispers of love and desire. I rode him until I forgot myself, until I felt the prick of tears at the back of my eyes for no reason. Everything felt hushed and intimate and important.
His hands were on my waist and when I would have shifted, going on my back for him to take over, he held me in place. “No. Don’t stop.”
So I didn’t. I rolled my hips and took him deep inside me, hands on his shoulders, eyes locked together. I wanted to look away. It scared me, the intensity of what I was seeing, feeling, but I couldn’t break that gaze. I exploded on him with a cry, and dropped my head on his shoulder.
He took over the rhythm and pounded into me, while I clung to him, eyes damp, wishing I had any sense of self-preservation. Knowing I didn’t.
When he came, we sat for seconds that turned to minutes, neither speaking. Neither moving. I was amazed and blown away and terrified all at once.
Finally, he set me off of him.
“Come to bed,” I told him, pushing my hair back form my damp forehead.
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to share the bed with me tonight. I can’t have you out here on the couch while I’m in there.” It just seemed wrong. I w
anted him next to me. All hard muscles and warm skin. I wanted his reassurance that this was a good thing, and not the dumbest thing I’d ever done.
“I would like that,” he said. He gave me a small smile. “Do you want to be big spoon or little spoon?”
“Little.”
“Good. I want to hold you.”
The tears burned again and this time I couldn’t blink them away.
“Are you crying?” Maddox asked me, reaching for my hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly. “Talk to me.”
But I just shook my head emphatically. I didn’t even understand why I was crying. I was happy and scared all at once.
I picked the wrong men.
And they always left me.
I didn’t want him to leave me.
“I’m fine,” I managed. “Just come to bed.” I didn’t even wait for him. I left my clothes and my phone in the living room and went into my room. I took the far side so he wouldn’t have to walk around the bed and make any more noise than was necessary.
A minute later he came in but I didn’t turn to look. I was facing the window, concentrating on the thin ribbons of light from the streetlight coming through the slats. The mattress creaked when his weight eased onto it. I closed my eyes, feeling vulnerable.
To my relief, he didn’t speak. He just shifted behind me, his large hand resting on my bare hip. He kissed the back of my head.
My heart rate felt too fast. I took a few deep breaths, and by the time I had, Maddox was asleep, his breathing slow and regular.
A million thoughts were running through my head. I wanted to just enjoy Maddox and our time together. But I didn’t trust myself to know what was best for me and that scared the absolute shit out of me.
Sully started to fuss and Maddox jerked awake but just briefly.
Hoping the baby would fall back asleep I stayed still. But his cry wound up and became more urgent, so I got up and brought him to bed. I sat up and let him latch on. Despite the noise, Maddox had fallen back asleep and I stared at his dark hair, his tattooed arms.