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“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who did it.” It’s my own stupid fault. “That’s part of what makes it so difficult to speak out about him. I know what people are going to think about me, because it’s what I think about myself.” Everyone with half a brain cell will judge me for my part in all this. They should.
I do.
“No.” Maddox’s arms are so tight around me now it’s hard to breathe. “You don’t get to take any of the responsibility in this situation. You were manipulated. Used by someone because they knew you wouldn’t see it coming. He took advantage of what a good person you are, Audrey. The blame here is all on him. Not you.”
“But I should’ve left so much sooner than I did. The first time he hit me, I should have?—”
“Stop.” His tone is so sharp it almost makes me jump. When he speaks again, Maddox’s voice is gentle. “You can’t think like that. People like Trevor dig the hole so slowly you don’t even realize you’re sinking until there’s no way to climb out. They do it on purpose, to trap you. They get you so deep you can’t get free on your own.”
I press my lips together because my immediate reaction is to continue arguing. To keep grabbing at the blanket of guilt that’s been covering me. It’s an automatic reaction, because somehow it provides an amount of security. Claiming responsibility forsome of what happened gives me a certain sense of control. Without that...
“I don’t like feeling as if Trevor was the only one who had any power in my life.” But maybe he did. Maybe he still does. “It makes it feel like I can never beat him. Like I will always be weak and he will always be strong and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You aren’t weak, Audrey.” Maddox leans back so our eyes meet in the darkness. “No one who goes through what you went through and manages to come out the other side is weak.”
He seems so sure. So sincere. Like he’ll defend me even from myself. No one has ever cared about my welfare or happiness, and Maddox’s genuine concern makes me reckless.
Bold.
This time when I kiss him, I do it on purpose. With intent.
But it feels just as natural as it did before. An obvious and expected progression of the connection we have.
Part of me wants to pass off what I feel between us as simply a reaction to feeling safe for the first time in forever. I’d like to believe my interest in Maddox is nothing more than my mind attempting to latch onto the first person I’ve been able to trust. It would be safer. Easier to accept and simpler to navigate.
But I don’t think that’s what’s happening, and that scares the shit out of me. Because at some point, all of this will be over, and Maddox will leave. He’ll go back to his Murder Maddox life and I’ll be left on my own again. Only, this time, I’ll know what I’m missing out on.
Up until now, being alone was a gift. I’m not sure I’ll look at it that way after meeting the man holding me close and kissing me back.
I hold onto him as he rolls me to my back, the weight of his strong body pressing me into the mattress as I part my thighs so his hips will settle between them.
The room is spinning and I’m fighting for air when his mouth suddenly pulls from mine. He’s breathing just as fast as our foreheads meet. I stare up at his closed eyes as Maddox finds my hands, lacing our fingers together before pressing them into the pillow beside my head.
For all intents and purposes, he has me pinned down. I couldn’t get away even if I wanted to.
But I’ve never felt safer in my life. Protected. Cherished. Understood.
Connected.
And I want more.
“Maddox?”
His eyes open to meet mine, and I swallow hard.
“I want you.”
I want to know what it feels like to be with someone who genuinely cares about me. I’m not silly enough to think it’s anything more than Maddox simply being a caring person in general, but maybe that’s enough. I don’t know how all of this is going to end up. Hearing there’s a chance Trevor might be trying to get rid of anyone who could incriminate him, means there’sa chance I could die. And that asshole would be the last person inside me.
I’ve given him so much, he can’t have that.
But to my disappointment, Maddox shakes his head, looking genuinely regretful. “That’s not a good idea right now.”
Maybe I am silly after all, because theright nowpart gives me hope. “Maybe later?”
Maddox’s eyes move over my face, his nostrils flaring as one thumb strokes against the skin of my hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be making decisions about something that important after everything that’s happened the past couple of days.”
His answer surprises me. “Important? It’s just sex.” Even as I say it, I hear the lie.