Page 62 of Cry Madness

“No!” she exclaims with a horrified gasp. “Jesus, that poor girl. She’s such a sweetheart. Why? Why did he do it?”

Shrugging, I say with a sneer, “Because he’s a disgusting piece of shit, that’s why. Sparrow’ll rest easy knowing the man who hurt her is dead.”

“No, Maddox, you’re wrong,” Alice whispers sadly. “She’ll never rest easy, not ever again.”

Because that motherfucker violated her. I could kill Virgil Adaway a million times over—serve him up to Sparrow in a hundred bloody pieces—but that won’t—can’t—erase what he did to her. It won’t take away the memory that will haunt her for the rest of her life, and for that, I wish I could kill that motherfucker over and over and over?—

“Are you okay?”

Alice’s whispered question rips me out of my mind and brings me back to her. “I am now, Malice.” I slide us down, haul her even closer against me, and tuck her into the crook of my arm. “I am now,” I repeat, kissing the top of her head.

She drapes an arm across my chest and traces little circles over my abdomen. “Tired?”

“Very.”

“Same.”

Her loud yawn proves it, and when her body relaxes and her breathing falls slow and steady, I realize something astonishing…

This is the first time since we met that we’re actually sleeping together, and as I drift off with Alice in my arms, I wish this moment would never end—even as I look forward to waking up with her in my bed.

TWENTY-TWO

“Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love, that makes the world go round!”

—Alice,Alice in Wonderland

Alice is quite the loud character when she’s asleep. Who would have thought her snores could wake the dead? She’s also a farter—and a drooler. However, I would sooner chew off my tongue rather than embarrass her by disclosing these endearing nocturnal quirks.

At this very moment, she’s sprawled across the king-sized bed, her little body taking up all the space. She’s sideways, lying on her back, with one arm thrown over her face. Her other arm is stretched wide and her legs are conveniently spread open. I’m perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, desperately clinging to dear life. For someone so damn tiny, she certainly knows how to take up a lot of territory.

Not that I’m complaining, because I’m not.

At all.

Waking up to Alice Knightly is my own personal heaven.

But I’m no saint, and with the blanket rucked down at her waist and her shirt bunched under her breasts, I have blessed unfettered access to her luscious little body. When I trace my fingers along her abdomen, I watch, fascinated, as the muscles jump at my touch. I flick my gaze to her face. She’s still asleep. Perfect. Her being a sound sleeper allows me plenty of time to play.

And oh, how I do love to play with her.

I walk my fingers higher, teasing the plump underside of her smooth breasts, relishing the whispered sigh that escapes her. Bolder, I stroke even higher, my cock hard as stone when she arches her back in a silent demand for more.

Who am I to deny her?

I slip my entire hand under her shirt and cup her soft breast, massaging my palm against her fevered flesh. Catch her nipple between my fingers and give it a sharp pinch. At her moan, I squeeze harder. And when I give it a gentle tug, she rasps out a breath and opens her eyes.

Those brilliant blue eyes.

My God, she’s so fucking lovely first thing in the morning.

“Maddox,” Alice exhales on a sleepy sigh, her legs sliding closed.

“Good morning, Malice.”

“What are you doing?”

“Figured that’s obvious.” I flick her left nipple roughly, which pulls a delightful moan from her.