Tease Me (One Night with Sole Regret 7)

“Oh, sorry,” Madison said. “I’m a little distracted.”

She showed her ID and was handed a boarding pass. She wandered toward the enormous windows, where she watched handlers fling bags on the conveyor belt that carried luggage to the cargo hold beneath the plane. She didn’t know if her own pink bag would actually make it on the same plane. They’d checked it when she’d inquired about a standby, but she wasn’t sure how they would know which plane to put it on. The airline seemed to know how to handle her situation, so she supposed she’d worry about it when she arrived in Dallas.

It wouldn’t be long before they boarded. And the weekend she’d been so looking forward to would be over. A complete disaster. Could her life get any worse? Staring at the plane that would soon carry her tens of thousands of feet into the sky, she decided she shouldn’t tempt fate.

A presence close behind her made her body stiffen.

“So we meet again,” a vaguely familiar voice said close to her ear. “Meeting once would be chance, twice coincidence, three times a miracle, but four times? It has to be destiny.”

She’d heard the voice before—a knight asking quite plainly to please his queen’s ass.

She jerked her head around, and her stomach sank. She knew the face as well. The guy who’d sat beside her on the plane on the way to New Orleans and tailed her through the airport to baggage claim. He’d been the one who’d started her down a path to no return at the club? Well, that fucking figured.

Destiny, my ass, she thought. He had to be following her. But why?

“You’re not too good for me now, are you, little queen?” he said. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he gave her the twice-over. Again. Yet it wasn’t as if he had to imagine her naked. He’d seen her at her most vulnerable.

Or perhaps she’d been at her most powerful in those moments of utter abandon.

“I’m sorry,” she said, playing dumb. “Do I know you?”

“Your ass is well acquainted with my lips. My fingers. My cock.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him and shook her head. “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

“I could tell by the look on your lover’s face that he’d never made you come as hard as I did when I fucked your ass.”

“You don’t know anything about how hard my lover makes me come. And as I recall, he was inside me at the time.”

Chris chuckled. “And not for much longer. As I recall, as soon as you came, his dick went soft and he left the room. And where is he now? For someone you claim to be your boyfriend, he sure leaves you alone a lot.”

Her heart twisted. Adam would really be leaving her alone a lot now. “My relationship with my lover is none of your business. Now go away. We aren’t supposed to talk about the club beyond its walls. Remember?”

“I remember well.” He ran a finger down her cheek, and she slapped his hand away. “Every time you came that night, it was my dick in your ass. You couldn’t get enough. You aren’t as sweet and innocent as you pretend to be.”

She snorted. “You’re right, I’m not. I like it rough and dirty. Being fucked up the ass gets me off like nothing else. But that doesn’t mean you’re free to talk to me outside the club. Go away.”

His face fell. “You can’t dismiss me.”

“I think I just did.”

Chris scowled at her. “All you bitches are alike.”

“Yeah, none of us want you.”

Chris stepped back, and Madison clung to the window ledge behind her—standing her ground even though she wanted to run. When it came to the fight or flight reaction, she typically ran, but she wasn’t going to run this time. She wasn’t a meek little kitten. She was a tigress—a lion—and she would no longer repress her roar. A new-found strength had blossomed within her. She wasn’t sure when or even why, but she was no longer afraid to say what she wanted. And what she wanted at the current moment was for this jackass to get lost. Was she afraid that he might physically harm her? Hell yes, she was. Was she creeped the fuck out that they kept running into each other? Of course. But she was finished being a doormat. From now on she was going to stand up for herself and go after whatever she wanted. Now if she could only figure out exactly what she wanted.

“Fuck you,” Chris said.

“You already have. And believe me, I’ve had better.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.

He offered her one last look of disgust—his lip curled and brows drawn together in a harsh scowl—before he turned and stalked away.

“And if I see you again, I’m calling the cops!” she yelled after him.

She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her threat. He kept right on walking.

When he was out of sight, Madison sucked in a deep breath, her entire body trembling from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She rubbed both hands over her face and then sank into a nearby chair.

She felt less like a lion and more like a disgruntled house cat as she regained her breath. Why did she keep running into that guy? It was as if he was following her. And how had he gotten into the club? She knew the place was invitation only. Had he gotten in to be with her, or was it a coincidence? Both options seemed far-fetched. And running into him again here at the airport? That was just too bizarre. She wondered if she had a reason to worry about his reappearance or if telling him off had gotten rid of him for good. It had felt great to tell him off. She was tired of compromising, of folding. She probably had Adam to blame for her dissatisfaction with taking the high road, turning the other cheek, and all other means of conceding defeat.

Adam.

He hadn’t changed her. He’d just helped her discover who she was.

She had to find a way to make it work with him. Her first instinct was to leave the airport immediately, do anything and everything to win him back. But she had a lot of thinking to do—that hadn’t changed. She needed to know exactly what she wanted before she could go after him.

Shit. She hoped her heart and soul and head came to a consensus soon, because this indecisiveness was driving her crazy. She could only imagine how her over-analysis of every situation, made Adam feel.

But she was willing, had always been willing, to be patient with his needs. Shouldn’t he at least try to understand hers?

Hours later Madison dropped her bag—it had made it onto the plane just fine and was actually the first unloaded—inside the back door of the creaky old farmhouse she shared with her sister. The flight had done little to help her sort through her jumble of feelings. She was just glad that Chris had not been on her plane. That guy was gone for good, thank God. She didn’t need the added stress. She mentally high-fived herself for standing up to him when he’d approached her in the terminal. She was sure she’d never see him again even if she would be reminded of him for a few more days—her ass was still tender from his lack of skill. After the events at the club, she was now pretty sure the reason she loved anal sex was because Adam was so good at it. She hadn’t realized how lucky she’d been in that regard.

The heavenly scents of cinnamon and vanilla and baking yeast drew her through the mudroom and into the kitchen. She paused in the doorway to inhale deeply as she watched Kennedy drizzle icing over the tops of the steaming cinnamon rolls she’d just pulled from the oven.

“I love you,” Madison said wearily. She couldn’t remember the last time Kennedy had made cinnamon rolls. Her sister had been so busy with medical school and her psychiatric residency that the poor woman scarcely had time to eat, much less bake.

Kennedy turned to smile at her. A smudge of flour was smeared across one suntanned cheek, and for a moment Madison was transported back in time to when their grandma was standing at that same stove with flour on her cheek, smiling as she watched her twin granddaughters giggle while they kneaded dough for the same recipe Kennedy had just used. God, how Madison missed that marvelous woman. But at least she still had the house and the memories. And most importantly at the moment, her delicious cinnamon roll reci

pe.

“You love me or you love my baking?” Kennedy teased.

“Both.” Madison settled onto a stool at the center island and hooked her heels into the rung beneath her.

“I figured you could use a little sweet-tooth therapy.”

“Smart lady,” Madison said.

Kennedy shoveled a gooey, sticky roll onto a dessert plate and slid it across the counter to Madison before serving herself and perching on the stool beside her.