{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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"It's been a week."
Madie knew exactly what I meant by that. Blue eyes flamed like a falling star in the ocean.
"How do you feel?" I asked.
Just because it had been a week, and the doctor said it should be okay, didn't mean that it was.
Her voice was thread-bare and needy, revealing the truth of her next words. "I feel like I want you, Bren. More than anything."
"Baby," I said sternly. "That doesn't answer my question."
I knew she wanted me. She'd made it abundantly clear over the past week how much she wanted me, and it was one of the many reasons that I loved her. She was insatiable, physical, sensual, and so goddamn hot.
But I needed to know if she was okay.
"I feel good," she said, finding my eyes and holding them there.
I nearly opened my mouth to ask her if she was sure and then decided against it. Her eyes were sure.
Stepping between her legs, I drifted my fingers up her arms, slow enough to make goosebumps rise on her skin. She wore my signature look: a baggy, black tee. On her, it slipped to the side, exposing her collarbone. I traced the exposed ridge with my thumb until I reached the slope of her neck. Cupping it with one hand on each side, I felt Madie's pulse quicken beneath my touch. It skipped from fingertip to fingertip.
I twisted my right hand to the front of her neck, lightly grabbing to pull her closer.
Madie arched into my grasp, tipping her head back. I rubbed my fingers slowly along the column of her neck, and she moaned. Eyelids fluttered.
"Look at me," I insisted.
She did. She didn't straighten, neck still curved over my grip, but her gaze lifted to mine.
I reveled in the eye contact. "Do you know the torture you've put me through this past week?" I asked. "Hell, for even longer than that."
"Yes," she confessed breathlessly.
"Madeline," I scolded, squeezing her throat just enough to make her gasp and watch her eyes come alive.
I knew Madie. I knew her body and her needs and her wants well enough by now. I knew that even though my heart wanted to be careful with her, that even though my instinct was to keep asking if she was okay, to touch her gently and sweetly, she didn't need that. She didn't want it. Not with me.
She needed to feel. She needed to feel alive and real. Madie needed my touch to overpower every other way that she'd been touched, hurt. But most importantly, she needed us.
"Bren," she groaned as she watched me stare at her.
Everything I saw was beautiful.
"Patience, babe. I've barely looked at you all goddamn week because I'd start imagining this, and then I'd have a hard-on at the dinner table. So let me look at you before I love you."
