Page 33 of The Ruckup
If he only knew.
Yes, Drake’s sudden appearance was terrifying and nerve-racking while it was happening, but it wasn’t an isolated event. And, as much as I hate to admit it, on some level I think I’ve gotten used to it.
Which is royally fucked up.
But now I’d like to also get used to other things. New things. Things I’ve never had before. Like feeling safe. Protected. Understood.
All things Leo seems prepared to offer me.
And I want every one of them. So I can hold them tight. Keep them close. Treasure them the way no one’s ever treasured me.
When I tease my tongue along the seam of Leo’s lips, he makes a groaning noise that zips through my insides like electricity, heating all my most sensitive nerve endings before leaving them to throb. Our kiss deepens, and I hold him tighter, trying to get him closer.
But holy shit is this man tall. He’s a whole foot above me. I’m in decent enough shape I could climb him like a tree, but I don’t want to look desperate, even though I might be. The way Leo makes me feel is addictive, and I can’t get enough of it. So now that he’s finally willing to kiss me the way I’ve been longing for, I plan to milk it for all I can.
That’s why, when he lifts me up to the counter, I immediately lock my legs around his hips, ready to pick up where we left off a few nights ago when we were so rudely interrupted by the emergency call center Sweet Side Apartments uses to filter out the calls that really are emergencies.
I swear, if Rodney—the guy who runs the call desk at night and on holidays—interrupts us again, he might be the one who needs to report an emergency. Because I need this. I need to be reminded I’m still here. That while it may not all be over, I keep surviving.
And I need to make good on the promise I made myself that I’m going to enjoy every minute I get.
And holy crap do I enjoy the minutes I get with Leo.
Dragging my mouth away from his, I run my lips down the side of his neck. Every inch of him is solid and strong, and this area is no exception. The thick muscles running from his jaw to his shoulder tense as I kiss and lick at them, getting so tight, I can’t resist the urge to bite down.
Just a little.
Leo sucks in a sharp breath, his hips rocking into me as his hand flexes where it grips my hip. “Fuck, Maddie.” He groans when I give the spot where his neck and his shoulder meet a slightly rougher pinch with my teeth. “I didn’t expect you to be a biter.”
I pause, trying to tell if he has opinions on my teeth against his skin. Leaning back, I meet his hooded gaze. “Should I not bite you?”
Leo’s hands move from my hips, sliding up to curve around my waist. “You can bite me anytime, anywhere.” He tips his head, eyes squinting as he reconsiders. “Almostanywhere.”
A flood of liquid heat brushes through my insides, pooling low in my belly at the thought of putting my mouth on Leo. Of pleasing him the way he pleased me the night of his parents’ Christmasparty. My tongue darts out to slide across my lips at the thought as my eyes drop down his front.
Leo makes a pained sound as he brings one hand up to scrub over her face. “Don’t look at me like that.”
My eyes jump to his. “Like what?”
Leo’s hand drops, revealing blown pupils. “Like you’re imagining sucking my dick.”
It’s strange how easy it is to be open and honest with Leo. Even stranger that I don’t feel the tiniest bit of shame when I ask, “Why not?”
It’s probably not surprising that my experiences with sex leave a lot to be desired. They were all lackluster, one-sided, blink-and-it’s-over sort of situations.
All except for what happened between me and Leo the night of his parents’ party. It opened my eyes to how things can be between two people. What can happen when a man actually cares about how you feel and what you enjoy.
And it’s made me wonder what Leo enjoys. If I would be able to please him the way he pleased me.
If he’ll even let me try.
12
Cold Breakfast is Fine
Leo
IT TURNS OUT, Maddie is a terrible listener.
