Page 76 of Madness

I move silently across the room, my bare feet making no noise, and the closer I get, the scent of him fills my nostrils – a mix of soap and something that’s uniquely him, something that makes my heart beat faster. I reach the edge of the bed and kneel on the edge of the mattress, my breath catching in my throat.

“Desmond,” I whisper, my voice barely so I don’t wake Dusty. “Wake up.”

He doesn’t move at first, but then his body tenses, and he rolls over slowly, his eyes blinking open.

“Red?” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Before I can answer, a noise from the corner of the room makes us both freeze. I turn my head, my heart skipping a beat as I see Dusty sitting up in his bed in the shadows.

My stomach twists into knots.

Dusty has always been quiet around me, observing more than speaking, but seeing him here, so still and watchful, sends a shiver down my spine.

Desmond breaks the tension, reaching out and taking my hand, “It’s okay.” His touch is warm and grounding, and I can feel the lingering nightmare leave my mind, “We can talk about it later. Right now, I want to know why you’re here.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

How do I tell him that I couldn’t cope with the need to cut into my skin from the moment I opened my eyes? That the lingering image of my sister looming over me makes the need to paint stronger, and without paint, I’m slowly going insane with the promise I made him.

“I wanted to be with you,” I admit, though it’s not entirely the truth, “I needed to be with you.”

Desmond’s eyes darken, and he tugs me closer, pulling me onto the bed beside him. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.

I shiver from the contact, my body responding to his touch.

I can feel the heat radiating from him, the way his muscles flex beneath his skin, and then, without warning, he kisses me—demanding, deep and possessive.

His tongue pushes past my lips, exploring, and I moan into his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders as I melt into him.

Desmond’s hands roam my body, sliding under my shirt to caress my back, my sides, and my breasts.

Each touch sends sparks of electricity through me, driving me wild with need and igniting a fire that seems to burn hotter with each second that ticks by.

I arch into him, desperate for more.

Desmond pulls away, his breathing ragged, and his eyes slide over my shoulder, locking with Dusty’s.

For a moment, neither of them speaks, and the tension builds until it seems to crackle across the room.

“You don’t have to stay hidden,” Desmond says, his voice low. “If you want to join, all you have to do is say so.”

My heart skips a beat. Join in? Does he mean…?

Dusty seems to hesitate, his expression almost unreadable… guarded.

Then, slowly, he stands and makes his way over to the bed, his movements graceful, almost predatory.

He climbs onto the mattress, pushing me closer to Desmond and sandwiching me between them.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against my shoulder, and I nod in response.

I want them both badly.

Dusty reaches out and touches me. His fingers are cool against my clammy skin, and I gasp, my body trembling with anticipation.

Her runs his hand down my arm, his touch feather light before cupping my chin and turning my head to face him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice soft but firm.

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