Page 36

Chapter 35

The flower

Maddie

A few weeks later

A m I scheming behind Alan’s back?

Um. Wow . Why would you ask me that? How rude.

I’m merely ensuring he’s in a favorable mood before we join the kids for dinner. How on earth could you misconstrue something so altruistic as being underhanded?

Gasp . Is it no longer acceptable for a woman to do whatever it takes to make her man feel good at the end of a long workday?

So what if I have to crawl under his desk to accomplish it? Fifty-somethings can give a hummer to their sexy boyfriend under his desk. Don’t twist this into something diabolical.

Stop looking down your nose at me.

Okay. Fiiine .

Congratulations, detective. You caught me. Yes , I’m scheming and using my feminine wiles to boot.

In my defense, it’s for the greater good. He needs to be in the right frame of mind before dinner. Some stress relief before we head down —pun intended—can only help the situation.

And it’s only a teensy-weensy bit because of an overwhelming compulsion to have a break from this— pardon my French —motherfucking building.

The women of Redleg have taken a vote, and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll all lose our minds.

And for the record, I don’t need a reason or an excuse to suck Alan’s magnificent cock.

However...

Since I’ll be down there, I wonder if I could make him cash in his one free sexual favor card while I’m at it? Sort of a two-for-one thing. He’s been taunting me with it for weeks now, always threatening to push me out of my comfort zone.

Either way, you’re gonna accuse me of manipulation. So I might as well get something out of it too. Well, something besides watching this virile man go wild because of what I’m doing to his body.

“Ahem.” I artificially clear my throat, drawing his attention.

“Hungry, Maddie?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the computer monitor. “I should be done in about five minutes if you want to head down and start without me.”

Keeping my voice flat, I answer, “No thanks.”

He grunts, which I assume is some type of response.

I rise from the sofa and saunter toward his desk. “Alan.”

He briefly lifts his hand from the mouse to offer a small wave. “See you down there.”

Given his current distraction level, this might be harder than I thought. But the tight set of his jaw proves just how badly he needs stress relief.

My fingers trail along the edge of his desk as I gradually inch around the corner, approaching him. Memories of him bending me over this polished mahogany flash through my mind, making my mouth water and pulse increase.

“ Alllannn ,” I simper, pausing about two feet from him.

He doesn’t turn around or so much as glance over his shoulder at me. “I thought you were going downstairs.”

I skim my hand up his arm to his shoulder. “Nope. There’s something I want to do up here first.”

Reaching across his body, he places his hand over mine. However, he keeps his focus trained on his computer.

Looking over the top of his head, I see he’s going through financial spreadsheets. Given how many jobs Redleg has had to turn away over the last few months, I’m surprised the entire thing isn’t red.

I release my grip on his shoulder and grab the side of his chair, slightly shoving it to the side. Before he has a chance to react, I move into the empty space between his chair and desk.

“Hey, what are you?—”

I press my index finger to his lips and slowly ease to the floor. “Shh.” My knees crack on the way down, which is all part of my grand plan for seduction.

His eyes bulge, and his jaw sags open when he notices my blouse is unzipped down the front, exposing all my cleavage and then some. And I have on my sexy bra today. The one that’s nothing but lace, so no doubt he can see my dusty pink areolas.

I love wearing this for him. He bought it for me, along with the matching panties. My nipples harden under his appreciative scrutiny.

His naughty smile melts me inside and out. “What the hell are you up to, woman?”

I run my palms up and down his firm thighs. “We have about a half hour until the kids expect us for dinner. And I plan to use that time wisely. You should do the same.”

He dabs his tongue along his lower lip. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“I thought you had work to do,” I tease, grabbing for his waist and making quick work of his belt buckle and zipper.

Taking over for me, he removes himself from his jeans. “Pretty sure I’m done for the day.”

I wrap my fist around his hardening shaft, squeezing and languidly pumping. “Now you’ll listen to what I’m saying, huh?”

“You have my unwavering attention.”

The huskiness of his voice makes my mouth water and thighs press together. Flattening my tongue, I lick him from root to tip. “Mind if I have a little appetizer?”

“Pretty sure I’ve told you a million times that you can have anything you want from me.”

Air hisses through his teeth when I take him in my mouth, adding suction to help him along. Blood pulses through his cock, making it twitch between my lips. I love how he hardens more with each suck and lick.

He runs a hand through my hair, twirling the ends around his wrist. I should ask him if he does this for a better view or to be considerate. Knowing him, it’s a bit of both.

And that makes me want to suck him even harder.

His breathing gets progressively shakier and raspier as I work him with a series of licks, sucks, and firm strokes. The way he delicately guides my movements with his grip on my hair makes my toes curl. Sadly, they’re falling asleep under my ass in this position, much like the rest of me from the knees down.

Keeping firm pressure around the base, I pump my hand upward in time with the downward plunges of my mouth. He flexes his hips at the same pace, just tiny pumps. Like he doesn’t want to hurt me or push himself too deep into my throat.

Sweet man.

His earlier words swirl through my mind, and I can’t stop myself from popping off his cock to ask. “Why do you love me so much?”

“You’re asking me that now ? When you literally have my dick in your hands?”

A soft chuckle escapes me, and I lick my lips to savor his taste. “Sorry. It was what you said a few seconds ago. About how I can have anything I want.” I shake my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just don’t know what you see in me. What you’ve always seen in me.”

He releases my hair, and it cascades like a curtain around my face. With gentle hands, he brushes it back, cupping my cheeks. “Are you kidding, Maddie?”

The awkward timing of my heavy musings catches up to me, and my cheeks flare. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.” I lower my gaze, shame filling me. “Wrong time for this.”

Applying featherlight pressure to my cheeks, he tilts my head up to force me to look at him. “Sometimes we can’t explain who we love or why we love them. We just do.”

Fair enough.

He surprises me by continuing. “This isn’t one of those times.”

My brows knit, and my nose wrinkles.

He slides the chair back a few inches, removing himself from my grip.

Oh damn . I tanked the mood, totally failing at my not-really-a-manipulation seduction.

He attempts to shift his cock back into his pants, getting only half of it in there. “Come up here on my lap, baby.”

“I’d love to, Alan. But I’m fairly certain I’m stuck down here forever. It’s not the mortification from ruining your under-the-desk BJ that’s frozen me, either. My legs are asleep.”

His rich laugh sends tingles over my skin. I love to hear him laugh. See him smile. And feel his love.

Dammit . I just love this man.

But why does he love me?

He squats beside me to help me off the floor, then sits down, bringing me onto his lap. I have to shift to the side to avoid breaking his still-hard penis. That would be such a tragedy. For us both.

“Madeline Mason, I owe you an apology.”

“I just ruined your blow job, Alan. I think you’re mistaken.”

He winks. “It’s not ruined. Just delayed.”

I run my fingers through his beard, then settle my hand on the side of his neck. “What on earth do you have to apologize for?”

“If you don’t know why I love you, I’ve done something wrong.” He presses his lips together, dipping his head in a sad arc. “On the night we met, I saw something inside you. And it changed something in me in the process.”

“I was a battered mess, Alan. There was nothing inside me but sadness, fear, and regret. Nothing else.”

He turns his head, bringing his mouth toward my palm to give it a kiss. “Did you ever play with wooden blocks when you were a kid?”

I cant my head at an angle and laugh faintly. “Um. Yeah. My childhood was horrible, but we had blocks to play with.”

“When you played with them, did you see them as individual blocks, or were you able to see them as something more?”

“What do you mean?”

His gaze flickers to the ceiling like he’s searching for a way to explain himself. “When I saw the blocks, I didn’t just see the shapes. It was never just cubes and triangles. I could see what I was building. I knew they were individual blocks, but I saw the house I was building with them. Or the skyscraper or church. I saw the completed project. Does that make sense?”

“I guess. A little.” I raise a shoulder in a partial shrug. “I get what you’re saying, but it wasn’t that way for me, so it’s hard to envision what you saw. To me, they were blocks. A red square piece. Blue rectangle. One of those yellow arch things. Even when I stacked them, they didn’t look like anything else. Just stacked blocks.”

His eyes thin to slits. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“ Huh . I didn’t think this was a unique thing like my brain probe thing.” He wobbles his head subtly from side to side, and his eyes become unfocused. “It’s funny how our minds are wired differently.”

He seems lost in thought for a beat, and I let him linger there. Wherever he is, he seems content.

Almost as if he were smacked, his body tenses, and his expression sharpens. “ Oh . I’ve got a better example.” He adjusts his hold on me, bringing his forearm between us.

“What?” I ask, carefully shuffling to his other side.

“My tattoo.” He flips his arm outward, twirling it so I can see the beautiful ink. “I never told you about this one, did I?”

“The flower?” I shake my head. “I love it. But no, I don’t recall discussing it. Although I’ve always wanted to ask, I’ve been a bit too afraid.”

He lowers his arm, cocking his head slightly. “Afraid? Why?”

“Um. Well, it’s a tad feminine, and you’re the epitome of masculinity. So I always assumed it was for a woman.”

“It is.”

My stomach bottoms out, but I try to play it off like it doesn’t sting. “That’s why I never asked. Feels too private.”

He puckers his lips. “Aw, you’re adorable when you think I’m talking about another woman.”

“Huh?”

Compelled to touch his tattoo, I encircle his wrist so I can move his arm in front of me again. I hold his hand between my chest, skimming my knuckles over the beautiful ink flower.

“When we were in the motel, I didn’t sleep much that night, and I found myself staring at the painting on the wall. It was one of those abstract pieces, but I saw this flower so clearly from the second it caught my eye. Throughout the night, I found myself turning the image over and over in my mind. Consciously, I knew it was seemingly random shapes and colors. But each time I looked at the painting, I only saw this gorgeous flower with wide petals and the most vibrant color.”

My voice comes out shaky. “Are you serious?”

“For weeks, the image plagued me every time I closed my eyes. I sketched it out the best I could and brought it to my tattoo guy when we returned from that next deployment. By then, I realized it wasn’t the painting that haunted me but the idea of never seeing you again. The tattoo was the only way I could keep you with me.”

My heartbeat slams wildly in my throat.

Unaware of the waves of tumult lapping at my feet, he continues. “Maddie, I saw something in you that night. Didn’t realize I was looking at pieces at the time because I saw the full you. As you are now. The strong, loyal, kind, loving, gentle, beautiful woman before me. That’s who I saw. Like the blocks and the painting, I saw you, and it’s who I fell in love with.”

The blood running through my veins stills for the count of three, and then a bout of visceral memories surges through me, forcing my heart to pump again. My breath becomes choppy, hitching in my chest with each inhale. I press his arm deeper against me, needing his skin on mine like he’s keeping me afloat in the turbulent ocean in my mind.

Alan notices, his free arm holding me tighter. “What is it, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I force a cleansing breath, attempting to pull it together so I can explain what’s rocking through me. “Alan, I remember that painting too.”

He visibly relaxes but keeps his firm hold on me all the same. “You do?”

Moisture floods my vision. “Yes. But I only remember a hideous smear of colors. I recall sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at it. I lost track of time. I found the painting a fitting metaphor for what had become of me. A smattering of bruises, scars, and bloody streaks. A mess of broken pieces, totally unrecognizable. Barely a person anymore. That’s how I felt.”

My tears leak steadily now, and I don’t bother to wipe them.

He shifts our positioning, bringing our faces within an inch of each other. With an aching slowness, he places the tenderest kiss of my life against my lips.

When he pulls back, his warm breath fans over my lips. “You weren’t unrecognizable, Maddie. Not to me. In the midst of all those pieces, I saw the flower.”

I shudder against him.

He drifts his fingers over my scar. “Maddie, I saw you. I always saw you.”