Page 35 of Made
He looks at his phone, now that he knows how to use it, and declares, “107, apparently. Come on, it makes sense. It won’t be weird. It’ll be fun. We can watch a movie, or read, or…”
“Do your business loan application?” I suggest, even though my brain immediately goes to filthier places than loans and banking paperwork.
He shrugs sheepishly. “Yeah. That too. Why don’t you want to stay, Ellie? What are you worried about?”
That I might jump your bones? That I might slide under the sheets with you? That I might see you naked, and pass out from sheer excitement? That I’ll make an idiot of myself again, just like I did that night in Morocco?
Or more worryingly, that it will just be too good to be with him all night. That I will never, ever want to leave and go back to being alone.
Goddess help me, I think that might be it.
I face him. This is too much to share, I don’t even understand it myself.
“I’m not scared of anything, Maddox. And even if I was…”
“You’d conquer it,” he finishes for me, “because you’re a warrior.”
No, I am a fool. A hopeless, lovesick fool who pines for a man who will never look at me the way I long for him to. Agreeing to his sleepover idea is only further evidence of that.
Chapter 16
Maddox
Iwake up with the scent of her on my sheets, and a raging hard-on in my boxers.Fuck!I haven’t had this many boners since I was a teenager, and at least back then I could do something about them.
First, she was in her Hades-hot apartment, opening the door in those obscene short shorts and that tiny fucking top, beads of perspiration on the skin of her neck beneath her curls. I hid that erection by going into the kitchen. She came back in that hoodie, which helped. But then she took it off, her hair flowing over her cleavage, her tan stomach flashing, her curves on full display. Then the fucking strawberry, ripe red fruit and rich dark chocolate hanging there between her gorgeous lips. I was such a mess by the time we left I almost took the damn super’s head off.
Then we were back here, and the minute I invited her to stay over I felt like the world’s biggest jackass. What was I thinking? Our friendship is the best thing that’s happened to me for years, and I don’t want to ruin it. I spent the whole evening worried she might see the obscene things my dick was up to every time I glanced her way. Especially when she asked to borrow something to sleep in and emerged from my room in my old Foo Fighters T-shirt, hitting the middle of her smooth thighs andfilling my head with all kinds of thoughts I had no right to be having. Not about my friend.
I spent a restless night on the couch, and she left early, saying she had errands to run, that she’d go into the office to catch up on work. I’d heard her in the night, tossing and turning, and it was sweet fucking torture imagining her in my bed. I wanted to kick in the damn door, tear off the sheets, sink myself inside her. Fuck her until she screamed my name, and then do it over and over again until neither of us could breathe. I never wanted to let her leave the apartment, and it took all my self-control to just smile, nod, and say yeah, see you around.
As soon as she was gone, I came in here. I slipped into the bed that was still lusciously warm from her body heat, and I fell back asleep. Even lying in the same place she did was enough to let me find peace.
Now I’m awake, it’s much later in the day, and peace is not something I have a lot of. Not with a dick as hard as titanium. The scent of her is still lingering in the air. The sweet perfume she uses. The hint of her shampoo on the pillow. My T-shirt folded neatly at the top of the bed. I roll onto my stomach and curse my stupid hard dick for fucking up my life. I grab hold of the T-shirt, crush it to my face, and inhale the remnants of her.
Fuck, my cock gets even harder, which I didn’t think was scientifically possible. Except it’s now so hard it could crush diamonds.
Shit. This is getting old. I’m walking around in a state of near constant arousal when I’m near her. Some nights, I worry I might need medical attention, I have a hard-on for so damn long. It cannot be healthy, having all the blood rush to my cock like this.
So far, I’ve been dealing with it by running. Lots and lots of running. Building up a sweat, hitting an endorphin high, giving my body and my mind something else to focus on as I pound thestreets and push myself to my physical limits. My neighbors are going to start thinking I’m training for a fucking ultra-marathon. Maybe that’s not a bad idea.
Of course, there is a much more straightforward answer to all of this sexual frustration. Ellie might be the cause, but she could also be the cure. Yes, it would be less complicated if we just stayed friends. Less terrifying. Less chance of me ever losing control the way I once did.
Who am I kidding with that though. I love this woman, even if only as a friend. If anyone tried to hurt her, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. Nothing.
I would let that monster inside me loose without a seconds pause.
Am I insane to even be considering this, or could Ellie Madison and all her delicious curves be the person I’ve been waiting for my whole life? The woman who makes my celibacy no longer make any fucking sense at all. And am I being an asshole for thinking that could even be possible?
I mean, I have eyes. I see the way she looks at me sometimes. She’s nowhere near as good as I am at hiding her feelings, at least not these kinds of feelings. She almost jumped out of her skin last night when I rubbed the back of her neck. She was hunched over her laptop, working on my application, and I wanted to give her a little relief. Her reaction was way too extreme for someone who didn’t give a damn. And when I told her I was heading for a shower, she actually paled, a slight tremble in her gorgeous plump lips.
Am I imagining all of it though? Seeing what I want to see because I’m so fucking blinded by her?
Setting aside our misunderstanding in Morocco, I don’t think so. There’s a spark between us, and it could very quickly turn into a forest fire.
I groan, almost in pain. I want her so goddamn much, but I also need to know if this is right and that it’s not just my libido making me do stupid shit. I’ve been down that path before, and it meant nothing. The whole point of the celibacy was to find more meaning in life beyond the basic pleasures . I can’t just give up on that mission at the first sight of a hot girl.
Except, I know, that isn’t fair—to either Ellie or myself. There have been plenty of hot women, including her, back in Marrakech. There were others while I was still traveling. And since I’ve been home, I don’t go short of offers. I’m young, not ugly, and my family is rich. It’s not exactly a recipe for girl-repellent. I’ve been chatted up plenty. In the park, in bars, in restaurants. I’ve been hit on by soccer moms and cheerleaders. I’ve had slips of paper passed to me with scrawled phone numbers, and I’ve been propositioned by strangers in clubs.
