Page 60 of Broken Melody
“Where are we going?” I ask Maddox as he drives the two of us to an unknown destination. He only smiles at me, and reaches over to take my hand. “Come on, tell me.”
“We are going somewhere private. Where we don’t have to worry about being disturbed,” he says.
“Sounds good to me,” I tell him.
I don’t know when it happened exactly. Maybe it was when he took off his shirt and shoes and got into bed with me yesterday. Maybe it was when he told me about his fear of spiders, or confessed the deep pain and regret he feels in his soul. It could have been when he held onto me and cried, or maybe when he told me that I’m brave, that I’m deserving, and that I’m not a horrible woman for giving up my son. If it wasn’t any of those things, then it was certainly when he held me until I fell asleep, and was reinforced with the kiss he gave me as he left this morning and told me he’d be back later to pick me up. I don’t know when and how exactly, but what I do know is that I’m in love with Maddox Colt.
I’ve never been in love before. Other than the deep love I felt in the brief moments I held my son close to me and said goodbye and whispered that I would always love him. It doesn’t feel the same as that felt. It feels…wonderful, scary, exciting, vomit inducing, fluttery, nervous, lustful, happy… and safe. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt this level of safety and peace. In fact, my heart feels lighter than it’s felt in years. I’ve been with men before, but they’ve never given me this feeling. It was nothing but lust, and excitement over my upcoming orgasms, nothing more, I wouldn’t let it be. I’ve never, not once, told anyone about my son. Not even Britt. She knows a big part of my story, but not that. If she suspects, she’s never said. Telling Maddox was not easy, but it felt right. And it felt like he took my secret and wrapped it up tight in his chest holding it there safe and sound.
Maybe some would think this has happened fast, but I think it started developing the second he snapped his fingers in my face as crazy as that may seem. And honestly, to hell what anyone else thinks. I can’t control my heart, and right now, I don’t want to. I hope this feeling never goes away. I don’t want to think about the repercussions of us actually having a relationship with each other, not a fake one like the guys think. I don’t want to think about what happens if I leave the band, if they decide they don’t want me after my contract is over, or worse, if this doesn’t work out. Maybe I should think about it, but for now, I just want to revel in the feeling of being in love. I’m not telling him how I feel, hell no. I don’t want to scare him away, but I am going to enjoy it – reverently.
“We’re here,” he says as we pull up to a large gate.
“Where is here?”
“My house,” he tells me with a sexy smile that makes my pulse race.
He pushes a button inside his vehicle and the gate begins to swing open and we proceed up a long driveway, “Holy hell,” I say and he chuckles. His house is huge, not that I’m surprised given his short but significant success – and we are in Beverly Hills - but I still feel completely overwhelmed. “Wow,” I say again. “I’ve never been in a house this ginormous.”
He parks, “Well come on, let me show you mine.”
From the moment we walk in the door it’s all vaulted ceilings, sweeping staircases, marble floors and huge windows. It’s opulent and luxuriant, yet at the same time, and I don’t know how, feels inviting and welcoming. “I’ll give you a tour later, but for now, let’s go into the kitchen, I have dinner waiting.”
“It’s ready?” I ask surprised.
“Yes. I had a chef come in and prepare a meal for us. He told me he’d leave it warming in the oven.”
“A chef? You did not have to do that.”
“Quiet,” he admonishes. “I’m showing off for my girl,” he says and my breath hitches at those words.
He pulls me into the kitchen and grabs oven mitts to take the dishes out of the double oven, though the one from which he extracts the food appears to have some warming oven contraption. The kitchen is done in dark wood with deep gray and white finishes. It boasts custom built in appliances, some concealed by matching cabinetry. It’s beautiful and any chef’s dream, that’s for sure. “I’d love to cook in here some time,” I say absently while turning in a full circle while looking at the pots and pans hanging above the large granite and marble island as he takes drinks out of the massive refrigerator.
“You can cook?” his surprised tone making me laugh.
“Yes, I can. Why do you seem so surprised by that?” I ask laughing.
“Wait, so you’re hot as fuck, sing the way you do, can mix a mean drink and you can cook too? I can probably come in my pants from that sentence alone,” he says and I explode with a loud laugh.
“Such a dirty mouth,” I tease.
“Hey, I have my sensitive songwriter creative side as you well know, but I’m still a man who can’t help but respond to my hot as hell woman.”
“Oh you can’t, huh? Your woman?” I tease.
His face becomes serious and after he places the drinks down on the counter he walks to me. “Sailor, I’m sorry; I guess I haven’t made myself clear, and that’s my fault, so hear me now.” He rests his hip against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t expect you. From the moment we met, you’ve surprised me. After what happened with Miranda and my guilt, I feel wrong on some level for even wanting to be with you. Anyone I’ve been with since her I haven’t given a shit about, it’s only been to ease a need or loneliness or because I knew it was causing a stir and I was angry as hell and used it to capture the response I was after. I didn’t care. But, that’s not what I’m doing here. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us, but I’d like to find out - if you’re willing. I’m assuming that since you’re here, you feel the same way?”
“I do,” I say quietly, awed by his ability to easily bear what’s on his mind. I love how he can be crass and an ass one minute and deeply emotional the next.
“And for the record, I don’t share what’s mine. In case that’s not clear, this is exclusive while we see where it goes.”
“That works for me as well, don’t worry.” I tell him and almost ache for him because I know he likely has some trust issues after finding Miranda with another man. She owed him a conversation first, if nothing else.
“One other thing,” he says and hesitates.
“What?” I ask brow lowering at the look on his face.
“I think we should keep this a secret from the guys…for now. I mean, they know obviously we are faking a relationship, so they expect that, but I think they will all kick my ass if they find out we’re actually together. Can we wait and see where this goes? Is that wrong of me to ask?”
