{18+ COMPLETE} For the past three years, Bren Hadaway has been preparing to die.
When he was sixteen, he watched his dad murder his mom. And ever since, he's been counting down the days until it was his turn to be at the end of a gun. And Bren has...
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My name, barely audible, slipped out of Bren's mouth.
"Madie..."
Kissing the sensitive spot beneath his ear, I appreciated the way his breathing hitched as my lips grazed his skin.
I kept kissing his neck as I slid back down, allowing my hand to fall at the same time, trailing it over his chest. I dug my nails in just a bit, and Bren made a throaty noise before reciprocating. His fingers flexed, grabbing at my hip.
My hand fell further, gripping his shirt right above where it was tucked into his waistband, and Bren let go of me.
Just as I was about to slip my hand lower, Bren's fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist. I glanced up to see his brown eyes flash a shade darker. His pupils dilated. In a husky voice, he said, "Be good, Madeline."
"I don't care if they're watching," I whispered.
Bren said that I'd been torturing him, but he had no idea how imprisoned I felt by the desire coursing through my body. By this point, it went beyond reason. All I wanted was for him to kiss me and set me free.
He held my eyes. "You're not the one that..." Cutting short, he laughed breathily and shook his head. Releasing my wrist, he ran his hand through his hair. "God, Madie," he groaned, although his expression was one of amusement.
Peering back down at me, Bren cupped my face and ran his thumb along the seam of my lips. He struggled to look away from my mouth, but when he did, he muttered, "They might have dimmed the lights, but it isn't that dark in here. And there's the small problem of the hard-on you're gonna give me if you keep touching me like that. If you keep kissing me like that."
The corner of my mouth kicked up. "You mean the big problem."
At that, Bren threw his head back and laughed.
I smiled, too, but I wasn't lying. The thought had me clenching my thighs together on the dance floor.
Luckily, Bren didn't seem to notice. Instead, he swept me into his arms once more, muttering how much he missed me. And then Bren—whether it was a conscious decision or not—decided to give a different kind of show.
The music had switched from Grayson's live piano to a sultry singer backed by seductive beats. Bren rocked me to it, holding me lovingly for a moment. But then I was being spun away from him, twirling across our small corner of the ballroom. A smile spread across my face when Bren pulled on my hand, and I whirled back into him.
I slammed into his hard chest, and my smile slipped away. As soon as our bodies hit, the air vanished from my lungs. He felt so good against me like this. It wasn't something to smile about; it was something to bite your lip about.
I'd forgotten what happens when we dance.
Bren swayed us, letting his hands travel up my sides. I shivered and glanced to find him staring longingly down at me. He lowered his head, daring to dangle his lips over mine as he graced the underside of my breasts with his wandering hands. The heat between us made it hard to breathe, but I supposed I didn't need my own air. I had his.
