Rise Like The Sun

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

NICK

When Nick wakes in the morning, his arm is wrapped around Madison's waist, keeping her pressed against him, one hand settled against the bone of her hip. They're tangled up in each other, in a way that makes his head cloudy and a burning heat flare up in the pits of his stomach. Beside him, she is still sleeping soundly, pressed up against his chest, her leg thrown over his.

As Nick shifts languidly, his body aching, Madison lets out a soft moan of protest and curls up into him. She's so tiny she fits against him like a glove and he can't keep himself from staring at her, his lips parting.

He's never seen her look undone, unbound.

Madison is always beautiful but in sleep, that icy mask falls away, and she looks vulnerable, almost sweet. Her hair falls around her shoulders, tickling his face, but her lips are still red and bruised from last night. She looks like she's been kissed senseless and something heated coils within his stomach at the sight.

He allows himself a full minute to relish this feeling, to reach out and keep it imprinted in his memory, counting down the seconds before Nick gently and very reluctantly untangles himself from Madison.

She wakes in the same instant, her eyes flying open before Madison stares around herself, her lips parting. When she looks at him, Madison lets out a shocked groan.

"Of all people..." she murmurs, but he doesn't miss the way her eyes linger too long on his bare chest.

"You're welcome," Nick tells her flippantly.

There's something in the way she is automatically fixing her hair and realising that she is only wearing a bra that makes his throat thicken. Madison simply reaches for his shirt to pull it over her head and his mouth goes completely dry. She straightens the shirt, wrinkling her nose up with some distaste.

"How long ago did you wash this?" Madison asks.

Just like that, the languid, tangible air between them is broken and they're back.

"You know what, I think I picked that shirt up from the bins of the city," he tells her. "Yup, just fished it out."

"I would expect nothing less," she bites back, but she makes no move to take off the shirt. "What time is it?"

It's barely past seven, though the cool light of a golden dawn trickles into his room and casts against her face. Madison is still tangled in his sheets and Nick knows that her expensive, perfume smell will be wrapped up within them. He doesn't want to know why the mere thought of that makes his stomach clench, stealing his breath away.

Madison is already demanding things of him, breakfast and toiletries and things.

"Oh, and a ride home. You're not dropping me off to school," she adds, running her fingers through her dishevelled hair and hissing in annoyance. "I'll not take anything less than a Mercedes."

"Real inconspicuous," Nick tells her sarcastically. "Why don't you just make a banner, tell everyone we slept together?"

Her eyes darken.

"If you tell anyone –,"

"Relax, I have standards, too!" he says quickly, and Madison throws a dark scowl towards him. "But I can't drive a car."

Madison stills. "I'm not walking home in Jimmy Choo's," she tells him.

Nick lets a smile curl his lips. "I said I couldn't drive a car," he tells her. "Didn't say anything about driving a motorbike."