Stain (Stain #1)(55)

The food, stir-fry chicken with vegetables and a side of white rice, though delicious does very little to satisfy the itch. I’m on edge and I don’t know why, but with every breath-stealing kiss from his lips, I grow anxious.

“So how do you want me?” he asks when we’re done eating.

Naked and on top of me.

Heat explodes in my cheeks and I blink at him, mortified that I might’ve just said that out loud. Relief washes over me when he simply stares back with a slight lift of his right brow. “Um…just how you were sitting on the futon.”

The unexpected chime of my phone has me running to my backpack. I’m so grateful for the save. I find it in the outside pocket and stare down at the screen. It’s the alarm reminder showing me I have group therapy in ten minutes.

Honestly, I haven’t forgotten. I’m just thinking I won’t go. Not only do I need to finish the painting, but everything in me is fighting the idea of losing my time with Maddox. God, I’m not nearly ready for this day to end. I’m willing to do just about anything to prolong it.

Rising from my kneeling position on the floor, I turn to him. “I need to make a phone call.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You good?”

I nod, running a hand through my hair. “I just need to let my mom know where I am.”

“You need me to drop you off?”

“No!” It comes out too quick, a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of leaving him. “No, I won’t be long. Just need some privacy.”

He stares narrowly as me for a few long seconds before pointing to one of the rooms behind me. “There’s not much space for privacy, but you can use my room. Second door on the left.”

“Thank you.” And I walk away in a rush before I say anything more to embarrass myself.

When I enter his bedroom, I mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to do. I chew nervously on my lower lip as I bring my phone to my ear.

Three rings and then, “Hi, sweetheart, I’ll be there to pick you up—”

“Actually, Mom, Mallory’s going to pick me up. She’s been having a really tough time at home so she asked if I could spend the night.”

I’m holding my breath throughout the long, pregnant pause that follows. Anxiety has my heart racing and my palms sweating. I’m sure she knows I’m lying. “I don’t know, Aylee…your father…”

“Please, Mom? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. She just really needs me right now.” It’s astonishing how externally calm I am. There’s not even the slightest quiver in my voice to give me away.

But I’m crossing everything. Fingers, toes, and my eyes, for good measure.

A long, heavy sigh and then, “All right, I understand, and you’re a good friend for wanting to help that girl.” I notice how she says that girl. There’s an edge to it. It’s nothing new however, considering she’s never been overly fond of Mallory. Not a lot of people are. “Aylee, this has to be the last time in a long while, okay? We don’t want to make your father too angry.” No. We wouldn’t want that. The thought produces a bitter sludge of anger in my throat.

“Just tonight.”

The lies are easy to believe because to her I never lie. I’m good girl Aylee. Reserved, spineless, and so easily malleable.

“Okay, I love you. Be good.” Like I know how to be anything else. But then I’m learning, aren’t I? If this is what being bad feels like then I gladly relinquish my good girl badge right here and now and claim my bad girl crown.

I send a quick text to Mallory so she’ll cover for me, and instantlyreceive a message saying:That’s fine. But I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t bother to reply. I’m not so bold as to invite myself to spend the night with Maddox, and have every intention of asking him to drop me off at Mallory’s, just…later. Much later.

As I look around, it suddenly dawns on me exactly where I am. I don’t know why it thrills me so much to be in his bedroom, but it does. A bed, dresser, and closet to the left sum up the things in the small space. But everything here is his. He’s touched it, worn it, rolled in it, and slept on it. Maddox is everywhere in this room. Taking a seat on his bed, I tentatively grab the sweater strewn on the edge. Bringing it to my face, I inhale deeply, soaking my senses in the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Like an addict overcome with her drug of choice, my eyes droop shut as I fall back on his bed in sweet, sweet delirium.



Eventually I make my way back to the living room. I’m a little lightheaded and giddy, as if I have alcohol swimming through my veins. But I’m only assuming this is what being drunk feels like, considering I’ve never had any alcoholic drinks before. I find him by the partially opened window near the kitchen; he’s on the phone, in motion, pacing back and forth in an unhurried gait. In three–fourths profile, the sun dies beautifully behind him, and as though even it can’t resist Maddox, it stretches out brilliant rays of dimming sunlight just to touch the young god in a mortal body. He really is too beautiful for words. Rushing to my canvas, I pick up my brush and palette and jump into action with instant inspiration. It’s a moment that needs to be captured.

When he’s done with his call, he pockets his phone and heads my way. “Be right back, need to check something.”