Page 52 of Her Ex's Father
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Stella squeezes her sister tighter, her smile wicked. “Though honestly? You should’ve guessed Benedict was behind this. He’s got that smug look.”
Both of them turn to me. I keep my expression neutral, hands clasped behind my back, but Maddie’s gaze softens as if she sees past the armor.
“Ben,” she breathes. There’s a thousand words in the way she says my name, all gratitude and astonishment.
I incline my head. “You needed her. So, I brought her.”
Her eyes shimmer, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she throws herself back into Stella’s chatter, tugging her toward the staircase, firing questions about her flight, her life, everything.
As they start up the steps, I see the moment Maddie makes her own decision. She takes a deep breath, says: “I have something to tell you. Something good.”
Something good.
The words are so genuine that there’s no question she means it.
Maddiewantsthis, wants a child with me, despite the botched fiasco of her marriage and our relationship. In this moment, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when it happens—when she tells Stella, tearing up again, excited, and nervous at the thought of being a mother.
I watch them disappear up to the second floor, Stella’s laugh echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
And for the first time in a long time, the house feels truly alive.
Later, when Stella has gone to settle into the suite I had prepared, Maddie finds me in the quiet of my office. The fire burns low, whiskey glints in crystal decanters, and the misty rain outside thickens against the glass.
She comes to me without hesitation, her steps soft but sure. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I know.”
Her voice wavers, her hand lifting to touch my sleeve. “Thank you.”
Before I can respond, she leans up on her toes and presses her lips to mine. Not the kind of kiss we’ve shared in the dark, all heat, and teeth, but something gentler. A sweet brush of trust.
It startles me more than any passion could.
When she pulls back, her smile is soft. “You never actually said you were sorry. But this… it feels like it.”
I don’t answer. My throat won’t let me.
We stand in silence, staring out across the forest toward the mountains. The spring weather has turned temperamental, put a damper on the evening, but it’s not sad; just quiet. Restive.
Eventually, I manage to ask, “Was she happy? About the news?”
Maddie’s hand drifts to her belly, and every muscle in me strains to do the same—to cover her hand with mine, to keep safe what we’ve created. Instead, I only sway toward her intoxicating scent, wishing I could go to bed with her.
Not out of lust, but out of… love.
“Mmm, she was. Not as surprised as I hoped she’d be,” Maddie says wryly, her eyes cutting up to meet mine before her cheeks turn pink.
I remember our conversation a week ago, how she confessed to feelingon edgeand aroused. How ready I was to give her whatever she needed, and more.
Is that door still open?
Would she let me, if I reached out right now and carried her to the desk, knelt between her legs, and worshipped her right here?
She lingers a moment longer, then slips away to rejoin Stella, leaving me with the memory of her lips on mine and the sudden, brutal realization that I’m falling. Not for her body, not for the escape she gives me in bed—but for her.
And that is far more dangerous.
The next morning, business insists on making itself known.
