Page 40 of Thirst Trap
Maddison:
I can see you.
Come up, you freak.
He stared at the screen. A laugh barked out of him, short, helpless. He should’ve driven away. Disappeared into the night like a ghost.
Instead, he grabbed the helmet and crossed the street.
She was waiting at the door in pyjamas and a giant t-shirt that said I licked it so it’s mine. Her hair was a mess. She had no makeup on. And Lucas forgot how to breathe.
“You gonna keep hovering like a weirdo or come inside?”
He stepped in.
Maddison closed the door behind him. Didn’t touch him. Just walked back toward the kitchen.
“You didn’t need to babysit me,” she said, pulling a mug from the cupboard.
“Didn’t say I was.”
“Didn’t need to. You’re terrible at being subtle.”
Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”
Maddison turned, eyes softening.
“You could’ve just… texted me, Lucas.”
He stared at her. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to keep safe.”
That stopped her cold.
Then she crossed the room, stood in front of him, and reached for his hand.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Lucas leaned down and kissed her slowly, aching. A silent thank you. Desperate, don’t leave and this time, when she led him to the bedroom… he followed.
***
He followed her down the hall like a man walking into the eye of a storm. Maddison didn’t rush. She didn’t ask. She didn’t even look back. Just peeled her shirt off over her head in the doorway and let it drop, like she knew damn well he’d catch up.
By the time he stepped into her bedroom, she was standing in nothing but a black bra and lace underwear, framed in soft lamp light. Lucas opened his mouth. He closed it and tried again.
“Maddison, I don’t know if I …”
She pushed him gently, and he sat back on the bed before he even realized he was moving.
“That’s the point,” she murmured, climbing into his lap. “You don’t have to know.”
Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, slow and deliberate. He couldn’t stop staring at her freckles, curves, the power in her posture. She straddled him like she’d earned him. Like she owned him.
“You’re always in control, aren’t you?” she whispered against his ear. “The empire. The image. The mask.”
She kissed just below his jaw. He shivered.
“But down here…” she dragged her nails down his chest, now bare, “...you don’t want control.”
