One Night with Sole Regret 07 Tease Me (14 page)

Chapter Ten

Adam helped Madison out of the shower and wrapped her in a thick white towel before carrying her to the bed. The ride back to the hotel had been cursed with tortured silence. Neither of them would say something was wrong, but he was sure she felt the tension as much as he did.

He dried her carefully and stared down at her in the dim light coming from the bathroom. Did she really love him? If she did, he could get through this.
They
could get through this together. But if she was just saying the words and going through the motions . . . 

He closed his eyes and spread kisses over her throat and collarbones. She didn’t protest as he sucked marks on her chest. Normally she didn’t let him do that, not where the hickeys might be visible. But maybe she let him do it tonight because she no longer had a job, so it didn’t matter if she had his marks all over her. Or maybe she realized how much he needed to claim every inch of her as his. To let people see it as much as he felt it.

He wanted to erase all memories of those other men from her mind and from her body. He used his hand to guide himself into her warm, slick pussy and then tangled both hands in her hair, staring deeply into her eyes as he claimed her with slow, sensual strokes. Her lips parted, and her breathing quickened. Face flushed, she arched into him, her hands gripping his ass to encourage him to take her deeper. As her pleasure intensified, her eyes drifted closed, but he would have none of that. He tugged at her hair, pausing in his strokes to wait for her eyes to open again. When her gaze focused on him once more, he thrust into her, driving his length deep and churning his hips.

As their bodies connected and their souls mingled, his pleasure raced toward its peak. Just before he lost himself, he pulled out. He needed more time to drive those other men away. Could she still feel their hands on her? Their mouths? Their dicks? He didn’t know if she could or not. But he could still see them. Every time he looked at her he saw them. And he had no one to blame for this particular stint in Hell but himself.

“Adam?”

His name on her sweet lips made his heart ache. He kissed a trail down her body, between her perfect breasts, down her quivering belly, and lower until his face was buried between her thighs. He teased her clit with his lips and tongue and the occasional sucking kiss until she cried out and her body quaked with release. He surged upward, claiming the remnants of her orgasm by fucking her clenching pussy until she was spent.

“Oh God, Adam,” she said between gasps for breath. “That was amazing.”

But he was far from finished. He pulled out again and shifted to pleasure her with his mouth once more. Each time he brought her to climax with his mouth, he rode out her storm, but he dared not stay inside her for long. He wasn’t ready to let her rest. Not until she came as hard as she’d come when that knight had settled up against her back and shoved his cock up her ass. He needed to make her come that hard all on his own. He had some strange personal vendetta against her orgasm. He needed to prove to her—or maybe to himself—that he was good enough to truly satisfy her. After several failed attempts to bring her to the peak he knew her body was capable of, he feared that she really did need double penetration to find true bliss.

“Adam, you have to stop. I can’t take any more,” she said, clinging to his hair as he worked her clit with his mouth.

Maybe she’d come so hard because he’d teased her mercilessly before they’d arrived at the club. Maybe that had been the difference. He slid a finger into her ass, knowing she was tender back there, but rather than protest, she begged for more.

“Oh yes,” she groaned. “Deeper. Please.”

He turned her on her side, with one of her legs around his waist, so he could more easily fill her with cock and fingers simultaneously. It wasn’t quite double penetration, but it was the best he could do without the assistance of sex toys. Or other men . . . 

Fuck.

Madison screamed when a particularly strong orgasm ripped through her. He didn’t think it had been quite as all-encompassing as the one she’d had at the sex club, but it was close. As he sought his own release, he promised himself he’d get her there next time. His climax built quickly, tearing a deep groan from him as he let go. He filled her with his body’s offering, fixed on the knowledge that none of those other men had experienced the bliss of her pussy or found release inside her. No other man’s cum had ever entered her body in her entire life. Only his.

And when he could get hard again, he would forgo his usual condom to fuck her ass raw so he could fill her back passage with his cum as well.

He sucked another mark on her shoulder. His possessiveness was confusing and completely overwhelming, but he couldn’t deny it existed. Madison was his, goddammit. He was not good at sharing. He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. His. She had to be his. Had to be.

The ring of his cellphone jerked him awake. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but the familiar ring tone—
Bad to the Bone
—was one he didn’t particularly want to hear. He leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket.

“What happened?” Adam answered, his heart hammering anxiously in his chest. He knew he was supposed to hate his father. He had every reason to hate his father. But the stupid bastard was the only family he had and rushing him to the hospital last week had reminded Adam of how truly alone he’d be if the son of a bitch died on him.

“I need more money,” Dad said in that naturally loud and gravelly voice of his.

“I asked you not to call unless it was an emergency.” Adam’s initial panic was instantly replaced with annoyance.

“Being out of gas three hundred miles from El Paso in the middle of a nowhere Texas desert
is
an emergency.”

“Just use some of the extra money I already gave you.”

Madison touched his shoulder and lifted her head to mouth, “Who is it?”

“My dad,” Adam whispered.

“I’m out of that money,” his dad said.

“How can you be out of that money?” Sheezus. Adam had given him five thousand dollars to set up a shared house with his buddy Jose who lived in El Paso. He’d also given his father the use of one of the cars he owned but never drove.

“I took Honey shopping.”

Adam groaned inwardly. What was he doing with her again? “You took your ex shopping on my dime?”

His dad laughed gleefully. “She ain’t my ex no more thanks to your dime. She’s gonna come down and see me in El Paso in a couple weeks.”

Adam was sure she would. As long as his idiot father had some of Adam’s spare cash to blow on her.

“Well, are you going to help me out, or what?”

Or what, Adam wanted to say, but instead he said, “I’ll wire you enough cash for some gas—”

“And supper?” Dad interrupted. “I ain’t ate nothing all day, and you know I need to have something in my gullet when I take my pills.”

Adam’s stomach sank at the mention of the pills. His father’s most current overdose had done even more injury to his aging heart. They’d discovered the damage after the overdose. The doctor had said he’d probably had a heart attack over a year ago, but hadn’t had the sense to go to the hospital with his chest pains. Fucking idiot. Someone had to look after him. Adam hoped Jose could keep him under control better than Adam could. Jose was an okay guy. He had a criminal record, sure, but he’d served his time and was walking a straight and narrow path now. At least he was according to Adam’s father.

“And supper,” Adam conceded. “But that’s it. I’ll send Jose money for your half of the rent and utilities directly.” Since the old man was entirely untrustworthy with a stack of cash.

“Yeah, yeah. I fucked up again. You knew I would. Why do you sound disappointed?”

“Can I talk to him?” Madison asked.

Adam turned his head to gawk at her. Why in the hell would she want to talk to his father? She’d taken the phone from Adam’s hand before he could refuse.

“Mr. Taylor?”

“Who the hell is this?”

Adam was close enough that he could hear his father’s boisterously loud voice.

“I’m Madison Fairbanks. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been treating your son.”

“Treating him?” The old man chortled. “You mean
banging
him. He told me about you.”

Madison glanced at Adam, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.

Adam looked away. Yeah, he’d discussed her with his father last weekend and had explicitly forbidden Dad from fucking things up for him by being himself around Madison.

“Our relationship has progressed with time,” Madison said, a hint of amusement in her tone, “but initially I was his rehab counselor.”

“You can lead a junkie to rehab, but you can’t scrub him clean.” The old man apparently thought he was hilarious as he cackled with glee.

“That’s true,” Madison said. “Getting clean is a lot of hard work. A person has to want to be clean to stay that way. Do you want to get clean, Mr. Taylor?”

Adam scowled at the floor. He still wasn’t one hundred percent sure he
wanted
to be clean. He did know he never wanted to disappoint Madison. She’d worked so hard to get him clean. He planned to stay that way. For her. He could do anything—no matter how challenging—as long as it was for her.

And soon—very soon—she would be his legally.

Chapter Eleven

Adam directed the bike onto a desolate road in some long-forgotten bayou. He parked on the shoulder and turned to Madison, who was holding his waist.

He took his helmet off and accepted hers as well, watching her run her fingers through her curls and loving the way the sunlight dappled her body through the scattered leaves overhead. Near the road, the trees weren’t so dense, but the canopy thickened over the green-tinged water that rocked in gentle waves beneath the strange twisted roots of the mangrove trees.

He slapped at a mosquito buzzing near his ear and offered Madison an arm so she could climb from the back of the bike.

“Well, you wanted to see a real bayou while you were here,” he said. “What do you think?”

“It smells funny,” she said with a laugh.

Adam covered his nose against the offending odors of wet decay and funk. “Is funny another word for bad?”

“In this case?” She pursed her lips and then crinkled her pert, freckled nose. “Yes.”

He laughed and climbed from the bike to stand beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, so glad that the discomfort between them the night before had been chased away by the morning sun. As far as he could tell, they were back to their normal, easy camaraderie. The woman, and her ability to forgive, amazed him. He’d already forgiven her for her wild times at the club the night before, and he was working very hard on forgetting. The forgetting was a little more of a challenge. Especially when she flinched every time she sat down.

He drew her closer to his side. It was the simple moments when they were alone and silent—touching but not overly physical—that he relished with her. But he felt sort of stupid for feeling that way. Sex with Madison was always spectacular, and he knew he should cherish that intimacy most, but he’d never been with a woman long enough to feel completely comfortable with her—not necessarily inside her, just
with
her. The emotional part of being with a woman was entirely new to him, and damned if she didn’t have the power to destroy him.

He held her against him, fingertips toying with her now frizzy curls, as they stared out into the murky, smelly waters and tried to decide if the large, elongated object floating near a particularly gnarly mangrove root was a log or an alligator. They slapped at mosquitoes and watched a heron wade near the shore hunting for fish, laughing when the bird noticed them and flapped its expansive white wings.

Content and happy. Adam rarely had moments when he felt either. This was one of those rare times.

Adam slipped the tip of his little finger into the warm ring nestled deep in the pocket of his jeans. He stroked the smooth and warm metal, wondering if he should go through with this crazy idea of his or wait until he was sure she wanted to marry him. They’d never actually talked about marriage, but he knew that family was important to her, and if he married her, he’d not only be her friend and her lover, he’d be her family. If their relationship was strong enough to get through last night without irreparable harm, then marriage would be a snap. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would.

He supposed there was no use in putting off the inevitable. He wanted her as his wife, so why wait?

Adam wasn’t one to get down on one knee and ask for anything, but he’d make the concession for Madison. She’d given him his life back; he loved her; she deserved the best. The best ring. The best proposal. The best husband.

Well, at least he knew the ring was good.

Adam took a deep breath, pulled the ring from his pocket, and sank to one knee in the soft moss at Madison’s feet.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she stared down at him. Her lovely heart-shaped face made his heart thud just from looking up at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tilting her head to look behind him to see why his leg had suddenly given out.

He couldn’t help but chuckle around the nerves churning in his belly. “I’m perfect,” he said. Perfectly insane.

He took her right hand in his before remembering he was supposed to put the ring on her left ring finger. He kissed her knuckles before reaching for her other hand. Apparently the gesture made her realize what he was about to do. Her eyes widened, and her face went pale. She swayed slightly, and he wondered if she was about to faint.

“Adam!”

“Madison,” he began, searching for words and finding few. Perhaps he should have thought this through a little more. Not asking her to marry him—he knew without a doubt he wanted her to be his wife—but the actual proposal. He probably should have come up with something a little more romantic than a spur of the moment proposal in a bayou loaded with mosquitoes, a heron and
maybe
an alligator as their only witnesses. “I saw this ring and could think of nothing but how much I want to see it on your finger. How much I want you to be my wife. I love you, Madison. Will you marry me?”

He held the ring suspended over the tip of her ring finger, waiting for one three-letter word to leave her lips and greet his ears.

Her hand closed unexpectedly, preventing him from slipping the engagement ring on, and she took a step back.

“Adam,” she said in that calm, rational voice she used with her clients. The same voice she’d used on him so many times when he’d been going through treatment.

His breath caught, and the feminine fist he held clutched desperately in his hand seemed to punch straight through his breastbone and rip his heart free of his impossibly constrictive chest. Why wasn’t she squealing with excitement? Why wasn’t she wrapped in his arms and kissing his lips, pressing her body against him? Why wasn’t she wearing his ring? Why hadn’t she said yes?

“Madison,” he said, her name a whispered breath of anguish.

“This is rather sudden,” she said. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you love me,” he said, not sure why her face was so blurry all of a sudden. “Say you want me. Say yes.”

“Adam, I do love you,” she said calmly.

He didn’t believe her. Not when she said it like that.

“We need to talk about this.”

He didn’t want to fucking talk about it. He wanted her to accept him. All of him. He shot to his feet and crammed the ring back into his pocket. She reached for his arm, but he shrugged off her piteous touch. Had she ever truly loved him, or had it always just been pity?

God-fucking-damn it. Why had he ever trusted her with his heart? Why had he ever thought she’d want it?

He stalked to the Harley and climbed on. Whenever he wanted to escape what was currently eating him alive—it seemed to change on a daily basis—he took his bike for a long ride. But even as he started the engine, he knew running off wouldn’t work this time. He couldn’t escape Madison. She was under his skin. Lodged deep in his heart. And he couldn’t leave her here among snakes and other dangerous creatures.

“Get on the bike,” he said.

“Adam . . .”

“Get on the goddamned bike, Madison!”

Hands knotted in the hem of her T-shirt, she just stood there staring at him. “You aren’t leaving me here?”

That stung almost more than her rejection. “I love you enough to ask you to marry me, but you don’t think I love you enough to give you a ride?”

“But you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he said. Hurt. Broken. Gutted. Worthless, hopeless, and devastated. Yes, all those things. But not mad.

“I’m sorry.” She blinked back tears, and if she started crying then he
was
going to be mad. She didn’t have the right to cry over this. He was the one who should be crying.

He ripped his gaze from her, stared straight ahead, and revved the engine. “Get on.”

“Adam, I—”

He clenched his teeth. “Get. On.”

“I think . . . I should go . . . home,” she said.

“Then I’ll take you to the airport,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “But I’m not leaving you here.”

“Adam, I just need some time to think things over. This would be a big step for me. For us. I’m not sure we’re ready. Maybe if we talk about it—”

“I don’t want to talk about this now,” he said, revving the engine again.

“Then when?” she said.

“Maybe after I get my guts shoved back inside where they belong.” He released a small huff of breath and shook his head. This was why he pushed people away. Exactly this. He had a low tolerance for pain. Not physical pain—he could take his fair share of that. But every time he let someone in, they hurt him. This emotional bullshit had always ripped him apart. He couldn’t stand it. He had to escape somehow. On his bike. In his music or his art. With drugs or sex or some other vice. And since the only route available to him at the moment was the Harley, he revved the engine again.

Madison touched his sleeve, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He knew she’d be staring at him with pity, and that was the last fucking thing he wanted at the moment. And if she understood him, she’d know that.