Take a Chance on Me(14)

“Yes,” she said, with a soft intake of breath. “Like you said.”

Shit, he was in trouble here. His fingers played down the curve of her spine. Male satisfaction settled deep in his bones when goose bumps rose on her skin. “Yes, Maddie. I’d love nothing better than to make you come.” With another stroke along her flesh, he ignored the remaining buttons. “With my hands. My mouth.” He pressed his lips close to her neck but didn’t dare touch. “You wouldn’t have to do any work at all.”

“I see.” A little squeak.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He had to stop this. With gritted teeth, he made quick work of the last remaining buttons, and then, even though it killed him, he stepped away and let her go. “You’re free.”

She turned around slowly, still clutching the heavy fabric to her chest. Her arms shook a little. “What about you?”

Was she trying to kill him? Test him to see if he was a candidate for sainthood? He assessed her, studying her closely. He didn’t see any coyness lurking. No artificial flirtation or feigned innocence. If anything, she looked—he cocked his head, taking in the line of her jaw, the tilt of her chin—curious. He made an impulsive decision and opted for bluntness. “There are a million things I can do to you that don’t include my cock, Maddie.”

“Oh.” A gasp. She took an involuntary step backward, then froze in her tracks. The bodice of her dress slipped a little. “But I don’t understand.”

“What are you confused about?” There was a razor-sharp edge in his tone. He swallowed to remove the tension choking him.

She nibbled her bottom lip, her auburn brows drawing together. “What do you get out of it?”

“I get to put my hands and mouth all over you. That’s what I get out of it.”

Her expression went blank. Her lips parted, only to snap shut again.

Her reasons for climbing out a church window were becoming clearer by the second. He should keep his mouth shut and let her work through her own thoughts, but screw it. “Not all men are selfish pricks in bed.”

She stepped back, and the dress faltered, threatening to slip from her grasp. “This conversation is inappropriate, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, watching her precarious hold on the heaps of fabric. He wasn’t sure if he was praying for it to fall or stay up. He cleared his throat. “But it’s still time for you to go to bed.”

With a sharp nod, she backed out of the room. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Anytime, Princess.” She’d better get out of here fast, or he’d be coming after her. She turned and started to climb the stairs, and he called innocuously, “Sleep well.”

“You too,” she said, moving more quickly, until she disappeared with a final swish of white. Fifteen seconds later, he heard the slam of a door.

He blew out a deep breath and ran a hand over his day’s worth of stubble. This was going to be a long f*cking night.





Chapter Five



Maddie pressed two fingers to her throbbing temple and blinked against the morning light straining her eyes. Food and coffee, both of which would do wonders for her hangover, waited downstairs, but she wasn’t quite ready to face Mitch Riley yet.

Instead, her life tugged at her. An incessant pull of guilt had her gaze drifting time and again to the old-fashioned telephone sitting on a secretary’s desk. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, even with the painted flower detail work chipped away.

She turned to stare out the window at the yard below, mentally landscaping the unkempt grounds beneath. With a little work, it would be gorgeous. Even now, weeping willows and wild flowers swayed in the gentle summer breeze, creating an idyllic view. Oak and maple trees well over a hundred years old lined the grass. Peeking through the leaves was a river, lazily moving downstream. It was so picture perfect that an urge to draw the scene stole through her, surprising her. She hadn’t drawn or painted anything since her dad died when she was fifteen.

At the thought of her father, her gaze jerked to the phone. It worked. She’d checked last night and even considered using it, but she hadn’t. She needed to call her family and let them know she was alive and safe. But every time she thought about calling, her stomach rolled.

She loved them and wanted to do the right thing, but if she called now, they’d convince her to come home. Her mom would cry, and Steve would tell her how irrational she was being, and Shane would take over. By the time she hung up, her shoulders would be tense. Her belly would be coiled tight with guilt. She’d fall all over herself trying to make them happy, and somehow, what she wanted would end up sounding ridiculous and silly.

That wasn’t an option. She refused to have her freedom snatched away before she’d even had a chance to experience it. After one short night, the knot of tension she’d been carrying around for as long as she could remember had eased—not a lot, but enough for her to recognize the difference. Enough for her to know she wasn’t ready to leave.

The simple solution was to call her best friends. Penelope and Sophie wouldn’t judge her. Maddie could kill two birds with one stone—inform her family she was safe and alleviate some of her guilt.

She’d try Penelope first. Penelope Watkins was all cool efficiency and grace under pressure. Her brother called her the “Iron Fist.” Unlike Maddie, who had a faux, sister-to-the-boss job, Penelope was integral to Shane’s business. If someone wanted access to Shane, they had to get through Penelope first. Naturally, she was the logical choice to keep the family at bay for a while longer.