He pulls out slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, before pushing back in. He holds my gaze—his smile more of a smirk now—and gradually builds me back up. It doesn’t take long before his thrusts are coming quicker and his veins are throbbing in his neck. I throw my head back and scream loud and long when he hits that perfect spot deep inside me that has me coming hard against his dick. He gives me a few good thrusts before he comes on a roar.
His fingers move from my hips and caress my back on a lazy trail up my spine. When he hits my shoulders, his hand curls in and pulls me up until my back is flush with his chest. The light spattering of hair there sends a violent shiver through my body. I feel his groan rumble against my back at my slight movement. His free hand comes up, cups my jaw, and turns my head so that our lips are just a breath away.
Holding my eyes hostage, he gives me a short kiss before pulling back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. When he pulls out of my body, his fingers once again fall down my spine as he walks out of the kitchen.
Leaving me to wonder what in the hell just happened.
Chapter 14—Maddox
It’s been two days since we came together in anger.
I immediately gave her some weak-ass apology and kept my distance while I tried to figure out why I’d demanded her love. I don’t even know what had come over me. I know how she feels. She’s made no secret of it for the longest time. The words were on the tip of my tongue to return her love…but my fear kept me from speaking. So I took the space I needed to get my head together. That night—with some unspoken truce—I decided to give in and see what happens.
To let her in and the blessed promise that her love provides.
She asked me to teach her how to shoot, to help her learn how to handle firearms the night after our kitchen sex. She expressed the helplessness she felt when she didn’t have the means to protect herself and that, if she were ever in that position again, she wanted to be prepared.
“I’ll teach you, Em, but mark my words—you’ll never be in a position like that again.”
“You can’t promise me that. You aren’t going to be with me every second of my life,” she deadpanned.
I heard what she wasn’t saying. She was hesitant to believe that I’m trying. I don’t blame her. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me easily either.
“I damn sure can.”
“All right, big boy. Let’s not argue the semantics here. Will you teach me?”
“Yeah, babe. I’ll teach you.”
That afternoon was one of the best in my life. She was nervous at first, but she’s a natural, so it didn’t take long to get her on a roll. We joked with each other and enjoyed being in the moment. The heaviness that usually swallows us whole was absent, and even with knowing that we have no control over the unknown, there wasn’t a thing that could ruin the day.
The following week, we spend our days in the backfield shooting the targets Devon has lined up. His collection of firearms is vast and Emmy never tires.
And our nights are spent getting lost in each other.
**
I went back to my apartment a week ago and got Cat for Emmy. My thoughts were that she would help Emmy want to go home. We’ve been here for a little over a month now, and even though I would probably be content spending the rest of my life in this weird bubble we’ve created, I know it’s not fair to her. She deserves a life, and now that she’s starting to become stronger as a person, I know it’s time to talk about going home.
The one thing we’ve been avoiding is talking about my past. She’s told me more about the hell she grew up in. I had to fight myself in wanting to drive back down to Florida and make some heads roll. I can’t believe how strong she is, and she’s told me over and over that it wouldn’t change anything to go back.
One step forward. That’s what she keeps telling me. I want to smile, to accept it and let my past go, but I have to wonder if, with each step forward, we aren’t really taking ten back. And that is because I still haven’t let her in completely.
Tell her about your family! My mind has been screaming the same thing over and over to me since that morning in the kitchen. And for the first time in years, I’m considering opening up the hell I grew up in and letting her see all of my broken soul. I’ve battled back and forth with whether just telling her could dampen some of the innocence she still has.
I let myself remember the night before and the nightmare that gave me the push I needed in the right direction. The direction that will take me away from her.
Once again, I was stuck back in the blast zone, pulling what should have been Morris—but it was Emmy. I was able to crawl back from that nightmare only to have a new one take its place. One that put Emmy in the reach of my family. In the dream, I saw her look at me with so much anger and pain because I had ruined her life. I can’t even remember the words she was screaming—all I knew was that I had done that to her. And before I was able to pull myself out of the dream, I saw Emmy, my angel, dying at her own hands because she couldn’t take the darkness in my soul.