Page 77 of False Start
I sat up as slowly and quietly as I could, not wanting to disturb her. She had a soft smile on her face as the pen draggedalong the page, and at one point, I thought I saw her cheeks turn a bright pink.
I watched her for a stolen moment of time, emotions battling for my attention as I did.
Part of me was wrapped up in last night, in how she’d fit in with my friends so seamlessly and made it so easy to pretend she was mine.
Part of me was still existing in the precious slot of time where I’d had her writhing on top of me, her cunt on my tongue and my hands gripping her ass and helping her ride my face.
But the loudest part of me was screaming, like a man falling deep down into a dark hole with no end.
Because whatever game we were playing had been shot to hell last night.
And now, I had no idea where we went from here.
Madelyn’s pen paused over the page, her brows sliding together before she peeked over her shoulder and found me staring at her.
The moment our eyes locked, I felt both of our hearts stop.
She swallowed, and my chest tightened.
“Morning,” she whispered, and I couldn’t explain it, but just that soft rasp of her voice had me yearning to hold her.
I offered a lopsided smile. “Good morning, gorgeous.”
Her cheeks flamed, and she dropped her pen, stopping long enough to pour a cup of coffee on her way over to me. I hadn’t realized there was a carafe next to her. She must have ordered room service.
“I don’t know how you like it,” she said, the mug steaming in her hands. “Your coffee.”
“Well, you must be a psychic, because this is exactly how I like it.”
“Black?”
“No.” I shook my head, taking the mug from her hands and setting it on the nightstand before I grabbed her and pulled her into my lap. “Delivered by you in a nightgown.”
She laughed as I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck, dragging my stubble along the slope of it as she wiggled in my lap. When I pulled back, I kept my hands on her hips and searched her eyes for a sign of how she was feeling.
I didn’t have to look long to know she had her own internal war going on.
“Thank you,” I said after a moment. “For the coffee. But it’s supposed to bemetaking care ofyou.”
She arched a brow. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
A shy smile found her lips, and her gaze fell to where her hands were balanced on my chest, silence washing over both of us.
“You were writing,” I mused.
Her little nose scrunched before she peeked up at me through her lashes. “I was.”
“Feeling inspired?” I smirked, squeezing her hips. “I saw that blush. Just what were you writing about, Miss James?”
She was giggling at the tease, but when I said her name, the smile slipped.
“Hearst,” she reminded me.
“Nah, fuck that,” I said. “He doesn’t deserve to have his name on you.”
“So, you’re just going to call me by my maiden name?”
