I’ve calmed down by the time the elevator gate creaks open and Maddox strides toward me. He brushes past me to the fridge, and a waft of balsa hits my nose. The confusion rises again. The way he smells reminds me of Celeste for some crazy reason. Or is it just because we’ve fucked a couple times in his bed? Once with him actually in the room. During that entire session, I couldn’t get the question out of my head: Which one of us he was really into watching more, me or Celeste?
He grabs a beer and twists off the cap, then leans back against the counter across from me as he takes a swig. “Whatever’s weighing on you, you can let it out now. No judgment.”
My dark little detour staring at the photos calmed me down, but now I’m riled up again for no good reason. When I don’t answer, he shifts his stance and sets down his beer, bracing his hands on the counter at his sides. “We can play twenty questions if you want. Is it related to your tattoo or the photos I took?”
Shaking my head, I resolve to get it out. “Celeste wants . . . That is, she offered . . .” What the actual fuck is wrong with me? I’m used to choosing my words easily, so being at a loss is frustrating as fuck. If I were actually in a fight, I’d have no issue confronting the problem fists-first, but punching the man is not the answer here.
Maddox leans forward, brows raised. His gray eyes look wary, but also curious and a little excited. “This is about Celeste? What did she offer? To bake me cookies?”
I barely hear his questions. The words just won’t come. My gaze fixates on his mouth, the slight cleft in his chin that never really registered until now, the day’s worth of growth that covers his cheeks and chin. I struggle a little more and then just blurt, “Ah, fuck it.”
Surging forward, I grab the back of his neck. My gaze is still on his lips, heart thumping like a drum, and I’m abstractly conscious that my dick has gone hard as a rock again as I close the distance and cover his mouth with mine. He jerks back and sucks in a breath, but I hold him tight, tilting my head and easing the pressure until our lips grapple in a proper kiss.
He’s frozen for a second until I touch my tongue to his lower lip and ease my body tighter to his, refusing to slacken my hold on his head. Then he releases a desperate moan and opens, kissing me back like he’s starving for my mouth.
A jolt of pure, unexpected lust jacks through me when his tongue thrusts in and fights with mine. The kiss is strange but familiar all at once, his lips a soft contrast to the scrape of his stubble against my shaved cheeks. He doesn’t kiss like Celeste—there’s nothing sweet or tentative or submissive about it. He kisses back with hungry abandon, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair. He pulls hard, yanking my head back and holding. We stare at each other, breath coming in heavy pants, apparently at a stalemate of sorts.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I lick my lips, my tongue lingering over a tender spot at the corner where his rough stubble rubbed me raw. Do I do this to Celeste when I haven’t shaved? His fingers tighten painfully in my hair, and he shakes me a little. I force myself to look into his eyes for the first time. His hungry look is spiked with both hope and fear. All I want is to fall back into that maelstrom and see where it leads, but I came here for a reason.
“Breaking the ice.”
“Breaking the— Fucking hell, dude, you’ve burned it to the goddamn ground. I need you to explain this shit because I’m having a hard time figuring out what the hell is going on here.”
My blood is too hot for my brain to find words. If I thought kissing him would help clarify things, I was dead wrong. I try to pull away from his hold, eyeing his mouth, but he has a death grip on my hair and is strong enough to resist my pull on the back of his neck. But when I shift, our groins graze, and a shock of awareness hits me that he’s just as hard as I am, so I tilt closer, pressing my hips into his.
His grip slackens, and he shudders, looking down between us, incredulous for a split second before he shoves me hard enough to make me stumble back. He slips away and I spin, a wash of cold shock dampening the confusion of lust that had control of me a moment ago.
“Jesus, wait! I didn’t mean to . . . I just needed to see . . . Fuck!” I trail off when he stops with the kitchen island between us and braces his hands on it, staring at me like I’m a wild animal and he’s afraid I might attack.
“Didn’t mean to what, Leo? Didn’t mean to shove your goddamn tongue down my throat? To rub your dick on me? You’re with Celeste, you fuck! What the hell are you doing?”
It hits me how this looks to him, and a wave of shame overtakes me. “Shit. I did this all wrong.” I sigh and shove both hands into my hair, groaning. “I’m sorry. I just don’t fucking know how this is supposed to work.”
“What?” he bellows. “You don’t know how what is supposed to work? Cheating on your goddamn girlfriend with me?”
“No! I’m not cheating. Celeste and I have a—a proposition for you. It’s just hard to come right out and ask, and I wasn’t even sure I could stomach it so I needed
