Page 99 of Sweet Poison

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Beautiful, sweet man. My family is still yours and they’re waiting for you to come back home.

Then he grins again, mischief lighting his eyes replacing the sadness from seconds ago. “No more sad shit. Let’s paint the fuck out of these pots.”

How exhausting must it be, to hide all the pain he carries inside of him? I can see it in his eyes even if he thinks he’s hiding it well. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I do as he asks, focusing on guiding him through the process, my voice light and playfulas I try to lift the mood. I laugh when he clumsily attempts to mimic my brushstrokes.

As we paint, the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, casting everything in a soft golden light. After what feels like a blissful eternity of painting, we finally set our brushes down, both of us a little messy and covered in splashes of color. It’s wonderful.

I glance over at Madden, my heart racing at how at peace he looks here with me.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” I blurt out.

He holds his pot up with a proud grin, revealing a mix of vibrant greens in a black background. “What do you think?”

I blink in surprise. Oh, wow… Madden has painted tiny mushrooms sprouting from the soil in shades of green, tiny butterflies flitting around them. “Madden… I-I love it. You’re an artist already!” I say, my heart is blooming with love for him.

“Your turn,” he urges, leaning forward, eager to see what I created. So sweet.

With a shy smile, I hold up my pot, turning it so Madden can see every detail. But as soon as he catches sight of it, he freezes, his eyes widening. The moment stretches, and I can feel my heart racing, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding through me.

Does he like it?

“Baby…” he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

I glance down at the pot, seeing what he does. I’ve painted his eyes—those black eyes that I dream about every night. I’ve also added his racing number, and even the tattoos that snake down his throat and arms. I tried to capture his essence in my little ceramic pot.

“I just…” I start, my words stumbling as I try to explain myself. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you,” I whisper,heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m in awe of you…of everything you are.”

Madden blinks, still in shock, and then slowly a smile breaks across his face, illuminating his features. “You’re fucking incredible, Willow,” he says, his voice making my heart flutter. “You’re too good for me, baby.”

Before I can respond, he takes my face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing across my cheeks, and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, like he’s saving this kiss in his memory. When he pulls back, his gaze lingers, and his eyes hold mine with so much intensity that it feels like he’s seeing right through me.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly, and I can’t help but smile, my lips still tingling from his kiss. “Are you happy, Madden?” I ask while tracing his lips with the tips of my fingers.

He holds my gaze, his eyes softening even more, before he whispers back. “The happiest I’ve ever been, baby.

And just like that, there is not a single doubt left in my mind—this is the life I crave. To spend every day with him, like this, surrounded by nature and wrapped in all that is him.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

NAUGHTY AND NICE

Madden

“Her smile is the best holiday gift I never saw coming.” — M

Love.

What a strange fucking concept.

I’ve never truly known it, and to be honest… I never really cared too.

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