Page 75 of Hard Game

Maddox.

“Anything to drink?” The barista asks somewhat loudly from my right, and I blink, turning to see her staring between me and Maddox. I mumble my order and somehow pay, holding the donut on a plate before me as I wait for my drink.

Maddox crosses over to me, his eyes pinning me in place until he’s right in front of me, his cologne tickling my senses and his breath fanning my cheeks. “Detective,” he says, his voice husky and deep.

Fuck me, he’s the devil.

“Maddox,” I say, trying to sound in control despite the jelly substance in place of my legs. “Where’s Tassa?”

I don’t care where Tassa is, but I have to say something.

Maddox looks amused, rubbing his stubbly jaw as he raises his eyebrows. “You know, I’m not too sure. She asked me to meet her here.”

I study him, unable to stop staring at how his chest tattoos peek out of his white top, his jeans tucked into dark boots, or how his ice-white teeth shine as he chuckles.

“Looks like we’ve been set up, Detective.” His eyes skate over me, and I shiver, wishing it was his fingers or tongue instead.

The barista hands me my drink and smiles encouragingly at me, unable to stop herself from checking Maddox out. Jesus, I can’t blame her. He’s a vision. “Looks like it,” I breathe before crossing over to where he stands. I look up at him, and he gazes right back at me before pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. I close my eyes and turn my chin towards his hand, resting my cheek on it. The warmth of his skin makes me want to weep, and like he knows, he sweeps his thumbs beneath both of my damp eyes. He takes the plate and drink from my hands, placing them on the table before turning back to me. I had so much to say if I saw him again, but it’s all gone. He watches me, his hands still cupping my face as he leans closer, resting his forehead on mine.

“Don’t cry, Detective,” he whispers, brushing his lips over my forehead. “Otherwise, I’ll have to kiss you better.”

I sniff, trying my best not to fall apart but unable to stop my body from doing whatever it wants, which seems to be moving closer to him. “Where have you been?” I whisper, and he pulls me flush against him as a barista walks behind me carrying a tray of glasses and cups. The intensity of his body heat floods me, and without thinking, I lift my head to gaze at him, my lips longing to feel his.

I thought I could live without him.

I’d barely survived three weeks.

“Nowhere,” Maddox mumbles, dropping his lips close to mine. “But now I’m back.”

My fingers bunch his top into my fists, and I cling to him like he’s not real.

“Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to?”

I slam my mouth against his, hoping it’s the response he wants. Because right now, it’s all I’m capable of saying.

He kisses me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine like it’s finally home, and he steals my breath, taking it as his own as he owns me. “I’ll take that as a yes, hmm?” He says, breaking apart to search my eyes. “I fucking missed you. My Detective.”

I’m so glad I’ve got my job back because if I didn’t, I would have to lie to him, so he always called me that. His Detective. “I missed you too.”

41

MADDOX

Lauren stands before me, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes damp with tears. She’s never looked so beautiful. When she strokes my face, a lump forms in my throat, her thumb grazing my lower lip like she’s checking I’m real. “You never replied to me,” she whispers, and I frown, wondering what she’s talking about. “My text message.”

Oh. I nod and sigh deeply, my hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. Her body heat soothes me. She soothes me. I didn’t realize how much I needed her until now.

“Sorry.” I gaze into her eyes, hoping I don’t have to explain why. I had to ditch my phone, identity, and anything that could be traced back to me—including her.

And Tassa knew it. Damn, Tassa, she knows me better than I know myself.

Lauren shrugs. I love that she’s unlike any other woman I’ve ever met—she doesn’t need to know everything in my world. Fuck, she hardly knows anything, yet here she is, in my arms. Even though this is dangerous, I can’t let her go.

Not yet.

“Come home with me,” she says, her eyes flashing with desire.

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