The Price of Winning: London Calling Book Four (16 page)

He plunged into her, his strokes long and powerful. Keeping himself braced above her on one arm, he reached down with the other to pull her leg farther up, deepening their connection until he couldn’t tell where she began and he ended.
 

With a muffled cry, Madeleine climaxed again. Inside, he felt the ripples of her orgasm, squeezing him in an ever tightening vice.
 

It was too much.

He shouted as he came, hoarse and primal. His penis pulsed, vigorously prolonging his pleasure until he felt wracked and ruined. Sebastian collapsed to the side, carefully bringing Madeleine with him.

He found her hands and linked their fingers. Her lips parted, her gaze fixed on his. He started to speak then realized he had no idea what to say.

He felt uncharacteristically gauche, younger than his years.
 

Madeleine smiled, serene. She angled her mouth over his, imparting a devastating kiss. When she pulled back, he was even more tongue-tied.

But where he was destroyed, she seemed restored. She sat up to grab the coverlet on the bed, still draped at the end. Tossing it over them, she snuggled back against him, tucking her head under his chin.
 

“Sebastian?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two.”
 

He pinched her bottom, a deep laugh rumbling through him.
 

They were still smiling as they went to sleep in each other’s arms.

CHAPTER SIX

B
ACK
AT
P
AYNE
Manor, Madeleine sat on the side of her bed, tying her shoes. She checked the time; she was meeting Bas in the gymnasium in less than ten.
 

They hadn’t had a training session this week, and she knew it was down to his busy work schedule. Already, it was late July, which meant bustling crowds for London’s favorable weather. Weeks had passed since her trip to Moscow with Sebastian. Summer was officially in full swing.

And so were they.

She looked around at her room. The bed was made, untouched since her return. She slept in his now, where they made love every night.

Or in the morning.
 

He’d taken to keeping late hours at the casino. Some nights he returned barely before dawn, where he’d fall into bed, exhausted and asleep within minutes. Even so, he would be awake within hours, arousing her with lazy kisses while his naked body pressed against hers.

Madeleine sat up, hands braced on her knees. Bas was an incredible lover.

He was generous in bed, always putting her needs first. And his gallantry didn’t stop there. Everywhere else he was considerate and kind, chivalrous to a fault. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opened a door for herself if he was nearby.

He bought her flowers. They were always white, never lilies, as he didn’t want her to remember the man who’d stalked her. Sebastian said his intentions were to spoil, never smother.

He hadn’t put up a single protest when she’d deferred his offer to move her things to his rooms. He never argued with her, never pushed.
 

Madeleine sighed.

And that was the problem. He treated her like spun glass, as if she might break. And she didn’t want him to see her that way. If they were going to make it, she wanted to stand at his side as an equal, not someone he picked up off a bloody, glass-littered floor in Chicago.

Her eyes drifted to the letter lying next to her on the bed. Her assailant’s parole hearing was fast approaching.
 

She wasn’t sure what to do. As a victim of his crimes, she was invited to speak. Her attorney had been adamant that parole hearings could swing either way based on the testimonials of both victims and prisoner advocates.

Madeleine knew very well that Jeremy would have plenty of people present, ready to speak on his behalf. His family had money and influence. He’d attacked her at a highly publicized event with hundreds of onlookers. If it hadn’t been for all those eyewitness accounts, she wondered if he’d ever have been convicted.

On the one hand, Madeleine believed wholeheartedly in a person’s ability to change. That belief extended to those convicted of crimes. Once they’d served their sentence, their debt was paid to society as far as she was concerned.
 

But Jeremy Green hadn’t served his full sentence. This hearing was an attempt to secure early parole because of good behavior. And a part of her, the deepest and surest part, simply knew he couldn’t change.
 

He was evil.
 

She’d seen it in his eyes, just the same as the man who’d murdered her parents. Jeremy was unsound, probably insane. It was possible he’d gotten help, but she knew it wouldn’t have changed his fundamental nature. In her public life, Madeleine had donated time and money to clinics that helped people with mental illnesses. She’d visited, met patients. Some of them had been confused, others tormented. None had possessed the malevolent viciousness that Jeremy had.

He was wicked and unbalanced. She knew it.

Another part of her wanted to ignore the hearing, forget about Jeremy. She was happy here with Sebastian, an ocean away. Finally, she’d moved on, putting her past behind her. Why should she ruin that by going to a legal hearing that was guaranteed to be excruciating and unbearable? Would it only set her back?

She hadn’t told Sebastian about any of it and couldn’t say why. She supposed she didn’t want Jeremy to interfere with what she shared with Sebastian. In some ways they were insulated, happily cocooned in a bubble of discovery and joy.
 

Without doubt, she was in love with him.

She hadn’t told Sebastian yet, but couldn’t hold it inside much longer. Nor did she want to. Madeleine thought of love as a gift meant to be shared.

She checked her watch again. She was five minutes late.

She folded the letter, placing it back inside its envelope, and set it on her bedside table. She would decide what to do about Jeremy Green later.

Now, she would be with Sebastian.

***

He was waiting for her on the mat, his eyes closed. Lying near him were two brightly colored bats with leather handles.
 

She hesitated, briefly torn about whether to disturb him. Under the bright lighting, she could see dark smudges under his eyes. The faint lines scoring his forehead seemed more pronounced.

“Get over here, woman.” Without opening his eyes, Sebastian held out one arm for her to tuck herself into.
 

She did, despite her reservations.
 

When they got close, they tended to get naked. These days, Sebastian needed more sleep than he was getting. And if he wouldn’t sleep, he needed to work out. As much as she’d like to think she was the best thing for him, she knew Krav Maga centered him as nothing else could, including her.

He rolled to kiss her, and she turned her head so he bussed her cheek. One eye peeked open, peering at her.

“Problem?” His voice was deep and a little rusty.

He’d definitely been sleeping.

“No,” she replied. “Other than the fact you’re working yourself to death.”

“It’s temporary,” he said. “Things will calm down in the fall.” He propped himself on one elbow and traced her eyebrow with his fingertip. “I’ve been thinking we should take a trip later this year. Somewhere wide open and away from any cities.”

When she thought back on it, he’d first shown his aversion to being boxed in at the hospital in Chicago. She remembered he’d had to leave periodically after visiting for long stretches. He showed the same signs in London. When possible, he would disappear for an hour or so, usually on a long walk outside, no matter the weather.

“How do you stand the gym, Bas? I know you hate enclosed spaces.”

He shrugged, moving his hand away from her face. “I balance the aversion with my training. It’s part of the discipline, teaching me to withstand uncomfortable situations.” He rolled to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. “Speaking of training, let’s get to it, Price.”

She grumbled good-naturedly. “What’s with the poles?” All their combat had been hand to hand. She knew from reading about Krav Maga that objects were sometimes used in fighting. Since she was learning for the sole benefit of self-defense, she assumed they wouldn’t bother with props.

Not so.

“These are training sticks.” Sebastian handed one to her then took the other for himself. “Normally, they’re only used in advanced levels of training. But I think they’re valuable in teaching effective self-defense.”

Madeleine wasn’t sure she wanted to know what kind of situation would provoke the use of a baseball bat. She hefted it, weighing its balance. Grinning, she asked, “Am I supposed to carry one of these around with me?”
 

Sebastian easily palmed the end of her stick from where she’d been pointing it at him. He laid it back on the floor, smiling. “No, silly. Your attacker will be the one with the bat.”

“Oh.” She eyed him. “Then can I be the attacker today?”

He swatted her on the ass. “Maybe later, baby.” He moved forward to face her, his hands locked around the stick as if ready to swing. “Get into position, Madeleine, hands up.”

Any more teasing would have to wait. They treated training like work, all business until the session ended.

He put her through the paces, making sure the moves became automatic. Over and over, she practiced the drill, stopping if she missed a move or botched it. Finally, an hour into their workout, she nailed it.
 

She laughed, triumphantly holding the training stick above her head in victory. She’d successfully defended herself and disarmed him, the perfect combination. Now, if it had been a real situation, she’d have beaten her opponent with the bat.

She tapped him on the hip. “Not bad, hey?”

Surprisingly, he was the tiniest bit winded. Madeleine chalked it up to another sign of his overall exhaustion.
 

“Not bad, Price.” He checked the large clock hanging on the wall. It was an antique left over from an old London factory, he’d told her, made out of steel with a sturdy metal grate protecting the face. “We have time for a little more, if you’re up for it.”

She knew he would shower and leave for the club as soon as they finished. She’d gladly exchange sore muscles for a little more time with him.

“Same thing or something different?” It was unlikely he’d teach her an entirely new defense, but sometimes there were minor variations for each drill.
 

“Same thing, except this time you’re the one with the stick and you’re being attacked.”
 

Madeleine pursed her lips, shaking her head. “It’s not likely that I’ll be carrying around a bat, is it though?” A chuckle escaped.

He held up one hand, palm out. “Hear me out. We’re training with sticks today, so that’s what you’ll use. But the point of the lesson is improvised weaponry. In the event of an attack, when your fists and feet aren’t enough, you should look for things around you that could be used against your enemy.” He moved into her personal space, pushing the stick at her until she wrapped her fingers around it. As typical, his chest was bare with sweat beginning to glisten in the fine hairs covering his pecs. Despite his exertion, he smelled incredible, like pine needles and citrus overlaid with essence of man.
 

She really wanted to touch him.
 

But she knew his rules—accepted and obeyed them. No shenanigans until they were finished.
 

He backed up, commanding her attention. As soon as she made eye contact, he came at her.
 

He was fast, taking the stick out of her hands with embarrassing ease. He shook his head. “No. Concentrate.” His voice was low, steady. “Again.”

And so it went. Until, finally, she embraced the stick as an extension of herself, using it to beat and poke at him until he fell back.
 

He collapsed on the mat. “Enough, enough,” he laughed. “I surrender. You’ve got it.”

She tossed the stick aside and threw her arms up into a V. “I win, I win.” She danced around him.

His hand snaked out, grabbing her by the ankle to topple her beside him.
 

“You win.” He reached out to knuckle some of the sweat off her face. “Good job, baby.”

She captured his hand beneath hers. “Thanks for making time for me today.”
 

He sat up, preparing to stand. “I promise it’ll get better. Not yet, but soon. Then we can think about that trip together.” He squeezed her fingers once then released her.

She nodded, but he’d already stood up and turned away from her.

“Soon,” she echoed.
 

They left the gym together, parting in the hallway upstairs to each go separate directions to their rooms.

Later, freshly showered and wearing skinny jeans with a sleeveless top, she sat down on the side of her bed to strap on flat sandals. She looked at the letter sitting on her bedside table where she’d left it earlier.