Page 22 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Theo

My fingers tap anxiously against the steering wheel as I stare at Madden’s duplex, wondering why I thought this was a good idea.

I’ve been putting off seeing him for almost a week, hoping keeping my distance would make this attraction go away, though part of me knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Which brings me here, ready to face him and…apologize. Or at the very least, offer an explanation for my actions back in Vermont.

I’d rather have my eyeballs peeled like grapes than give him one, but here I am, doing it anyway. That’s progress, right?

Steeling myself, I knock on his front door, all the while hoping like hell he’s even home. Or that he’ll answer the door when he sees me on the other side. Between my Houdini act and the way the party went last weekend, there’s a big chance he’ll slam it—

The sound of the lock disengaging causes my heart to stumble in my chest, and when Madden appears in the doorway, it takes every ounce of grit and determination I have not to run all over again.

Madden’s brows draw down in the center when he sees me, and he quickly steps outside before allowing the door to fall closed behind him.

“Uh, hi,” he utters, unable to keep the hint of suspicion out of his tone.

“Hey,” I say, the word coming out a little more strained than I’d like. “I, uh… Do you have a second? To talk?”

“I’m not sure what we have to talk about that couldn’t have been said through a text.” His emotions are masked now, and the indifference in his tone is jarring when he adds, “Which someone generally sends before just showing up at another person’s house, by the way.”

“I didn’t think you’d respond.”

He shrugs. “You probably would’ve been right.”

The blunt truth falling from his lips causes my intestines to coil around themselves, and I want to kick myself for thinking this could go any other way than horribly wrong.

Laughing awkwardly, I motion back toward my Bronco parked on the curb. “All right, then. Um, this was clearly a mistake. I’m just gonna—”

“Go?” he cuts in, arching a brow. “Why? You’re already here. You wanted to talk.” Pausing, he motions toward me. “Go ahead. Talk.”

He leans back against his front door and crosses his arms over his chest. I track the movement, watching as his muscles ripple and flex beneath his ink-covered skin, and I have no idea how he’s not freezing out here in the cold.

I don’t let my attention linger on him too long, though, instead lifting my gaze to his face and doing what I came to do.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened over break. ”

He laughs, his head falling back against the door. “God, I’m getting really sick of hearing those words coming from you.”

That makes two of us.

His head bobs a couple times before he asks, “I’m assuming this is about the part where you left me harder than granite in the hot tub and just disappeared into the ether?”

I wince, realizing this definitely isn’t going to be one of those forgive-and-forget situations.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I offer helplessly, feeling the words get stuck on my tongue as I attempt to speak. “I…I don’t know what’s happening, okay? Because I didn’t…and before we…”

God, why is this so hard?

I’m not one to get flustered and fumble over my words, but the way he’s staring at me, like I’m little more than cellophane, is unnerving.

I blow out a sharp breath and rake my fingers through my hair, doing my best to collect my thoughts. “What happened isn’t something I expected, okay? It’s still taking me a second to wrap my head around it.”

A flicker of understanding crosses his face, softening it for the briefest moment, before it’s gone. Back to an impassive expression, only to utter a simple, emotionless, “Okay.”

“Okay?” I echo incredulously.

“What else do you want me to say, Theo? You hooked up with a guy and it freaked you out—”

“I don’t care that you’re a guy,” I cut in, realizing the truth in the statement as soon as it leaves my lips.

But him being a guy isn’t my hang-up. At least, not anymore. After talking with Quinton, I’m realizing maybe it never was at all. I’d just let that unexpected development twist me into knots rather than look at the real issue .

Because my sexuality had nothing to do with why that night in the hot tub came to a grinding halt.

It’s that the guy was Madden.

A Falcon. And not just any Falcon, but their fucking captain.

His eyes narrow on my face, still analyzing me the way he would before calling a pitch, then he bites out, “All right, fine. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.

You need forgiveness for bolting like your ass was on fire?

To shake each other’s hands and pretend it never happened?

Fine, you’ve got it. Whatever you want, Theo, it’s yours. ”

If the frustration laced in the last few words is anything to go by, his composure is starting to slip. Part of me is glad he’s finally starting to fray at the edges too. God knows I’ve been falling apart at the seams for a while now; it’s about time someone else joined the party.

I just wasn’t expecting him to come out the gates swinging when he arrived.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, all right? But I don’t know what your goal is by showing up here to tell me all this.

” He runs his inked fingers through his hair before tossing his hands in my direction.

“You’re the one who kissed me, you’re the one who cut that night off at the knees, and you’re the one who disappeared without a fucking word after.

Can you blame me for not understanding what the point of this is? ”

“No,” I whisper hoarsely. “I can’t. I just…”

I glance around the porch as my frustration grows to new heights.

I’ve apologized, and hopefully we can leave it in the past. Move on with our lives. But if that’s really the only reason I came here, then why am I still rooted in place, unable to walk away from the guy standing in front of me ?

“What do you want, Theo?” he asks, as if reading my mind.

What I can’t have…

The thought is instant, and I realize he was right when he said I’m messy. I’m a tangled ball of chaos and confusion, and the more I try to untangle it, the more jumbled it becomes.

All I’m doing now is dragging him into the web too.

“What do you—”

“You!” I shout instantly. “Jesus fuck. It’s you, okay? I want you .”

The words give me no sense of relief when they fly from my mouth without permission. Not when Madden’s frustration has disappeared, turning into a wary suspicion as he eyes me from across the porch.

“You want me.” A statement, not a question.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” I mutter, embarrassment coursing through my veins.

“You said something similar up in Vermont, and look how that turned out.”

Yeah, it led me right back to him. To finally admitting Phoenix was right: Denial is not just a river in Egypt, and I drown in it every time I look at Madden.

But I can’t do it anymore.

It doesn’t matter that he’s a guy, that he’s my stepbrother, that he’s a Falcon, that I don’t want to want him. I still do regardless.

“You told me you weren’t interested in playing games.”

He arches a brow. “Yeah, and I’m not.”

“And I’m not here trying to play games.”

The wariness in his expression only grows, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s been struggling to fight whatever this pull is. He’s been battling it too. And if the way his gaze finally softens, ever so slightly, around the edges is anything to go by…he’s faring no better than I am.

“Then what are you waiting for, Theo?” he asks in a gruff whisper. “I’m right here. So if that’s really what’s going on here, why aren’t you acting on it?”

The tension zapping between us like an electrical current takes me straight back to that night. To the steam floating off the water around us, to the intensity of his stare, to the way his body felt pressed to mine.

To the inexplicable desire that got us in this mess to begin with.

And just like that night, I snap.

With a single step forward, I close the distance between our mouths with a searing kiss. One full of fear and confusion and frustration, but it still feels so fucking right.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck instantly, almost as if he was expecting me to cave to my desire for him, and the other slides around my waist to pull me flush against him.

Every atom of my being lights up like a stadium at night the moment I can feel his hard, muscled body aligning with mine, and I realize…

This.

I want this.

His anger and aggression when he fights me back. The addictive, wicked way he takes control or puts me in my place. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the first time I felt his lips and body pressed to mine; the piece of forbidden fruit I’ve been dying to taste again.

But just like that night, it’s all too fleeting—at least it feels that way. The only difference this time is it’s Madden who pulls away first, breaking the kiss and releasing his hold on me to take a measured step backward.

Our chests heave with effort, trying to catch our breath as we stare at one another.

Though, stare is a mild way of putting the way his gaze is currently scraping over my face like a thousand razor blades—slicing and carving away at skin, muscle, and bone until it feels like he’s staring straight inside my skull.

Into my fucking soul.

There’s no telling what he sees while he looks at me.

His expression gives nothing away, his composure sliding firmly back in place, and after a few moments of silence, I’m almost certain he’s planning to tell me to fuck off or get lost. After the way I’ve been so hot and cold, he’d have every reason to.

Except, he doesn’t.

Instead, he wordlessly glances behind him to the front door, then opens it and drags me inside with him.

Even with wanting him—wanting whatever this crackling energy between us is—I know my nerves are etched into every aspect of my body language when we step into the house. The rigid set of my shoulders, my stiff movements. The way my attention moves around quickly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Roommates?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.

He nods. “Just one, and he’s not home.”

Then he’s reaching for me, taking my hand and leading me past the living room and kitchen until we reach his door at the end of the hall.

The tension between us grows to impossible heights once we’re locked behind it, the mixture of anxiety and anticipation creating an electrical charge in the air while I step deeper into his bedroom and look around some more.

“There’s still time to back out,” he tells me.

I’m not sure if the words are for my benefit or his anymore. Especially when I turn, finding him with his back pressed against the door, watching me.

I shake my head and murmur, “I think it’s too late for that. ”

There’s a beat of silence, both of us watching one another. Not moving, not speaking. Just breathing, observing. Waiting for the other to finally put us both out of our misery.

And, my God, am I miserable pretending like I’m not as drawn to him as he is to me.

He’s the first to break though, pushing off the door to slowly approach me, closing the distance until there’s barely room to fit a baseball bat between us.

Every particle in my body is vibrating when he reaches for me, one hand landing on my waist, the other slipping around the back of my neck.

His fingers skim along my waistband, sliding under my shirt to lightly brush the skin along my hip.

It’s electric, his skin on mine. A shot of adrenaline straight to my heart.

“If we do this, there needs to be rules,” he whispers, his head dropping to keep our gazes locked. “The first being that you don’t get to just disappear again. We have more than just ourselves to think about.”

Is it the smartest thing to bring up our parents before we strip naked? Probably not. But it does nothing to douse the fire building inside me, and from the lust burning in his gaze like a raging inferno, he’s in the same position.

“Okay,” I agree, unable to stop my attention from darting between his eyes and lips. “You have my word.”

He shakes his head, as if to drive his point home. “I mean it, Theo. Even if this is just a one-time thing, we still have to coexist. Even if it’s awkward, even if we hate ourselves and realize too late that this is a massive mistake, we’re tied to each other.”

I nod, no hesitation or wavering, before whispering another soft, “Okay.”

At this point, I’ll agree to anything. Whatever rule comes next, no matter how many there are. Because once this agreement is set in stone, I finally get the one thing I’ve been craving far longer than I care to admit .

Him.

“Okay,” he repeats, his lips curving into the smallest hint of a smile. “Then I think it’s time for you to strip.”

His blunt statement draws a nervous laugh from me. “You said rules, plural. That was only one.”

There’s more, I’m sure of it. If we’re gonna do this, there has to be. But he clearly doesn’t care about them right now, because he shakes his head and whispers the most sinful words he’s spoken to me yet.

“The rest can wait ‘til after I make you come.”