Page 3 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

THREE

MADISON

Madison lay awake in her bedroom. The storm outside had passed, but one was building inside of her.

Zach.

She couldn’t believe how infuriating he still was. The way he said her name—Mads—in that low calm voice of his. It was a mixture of gravel and honey, all rough and yet sweet, like the way he used to make love to her.

What?! Where did that come from?

Madison groaned. This was impossible. Zach shouldn’t have had any power over her anymore, and yet it was going on 4 a.m. and she was still wide awake.

Madison was determined to get a couple more hours of sleep; otherwise, she would be best friends with the coffee pot come 8 a.m. Not that they weren’t best friends already, but one probably shouldn’t drink more than six cups of coffee in a day—or so she’d been told.

She wasn’t sure when reality ended and the fantasy started. But one moment she was staring at her bedroom ceiling, and the next, she was transported to a different time.

A different place…

She was in the honeymoon cabin down by the lake, still on the inn’s property, but reserved for couples who liked a little more privacy. Zach and Madison had taken advantage of that fact many a time back in their early twenties, before everything had changed.

But that didn’t matter. Not now, not in this fantasy.

The honeymoon cabin, with its oak floors and log interior. The fireplace blazed, filling the room with a soft, dreamy glow. A soft rain fell outside, but in here it was warm and dry.

Zach stood across the room, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his flannel-covered chest. Only this time, his shirt wasn’t soaked and clinging. It was open all the way down, his stupidly defined abs on show.

She felt herself move toward him in the dream, barefoot, wearing nothing but her favorite cranberry sweater and black panties. His gaze dropped, darkening as it trailed down her legs and back up again.

“You came back,” he said, his voice low and rough.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she replied.

Zach reached out and pulled her to him, one hand wrapped around her waist as the other slid up her bare thigh. His touch was hot, electric, and achingly familiar.

“You always knew how to drive me crazy,” he said.

“Do I still?” she whispered.

His answer was a kiss. It was slow, deep, and all-consuming. It was the kind of kiss that left her breathless.

Zach broke away just long enough to lift her by the hips and set her down on the edge of the kitchen table.

The old wood was cool beneath her thighs, but Zach’s hands were hot. They slid up beneath her sweater, fingers rough with calluses, but moving with a gentleness she hadn’t expected.

“Do you still think about me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“All the time,” she admitted, her throat thick.

He kissed her again, then slowly dragged the sweater over her head. She was bare before him, flushed and already trembling. The heat in his gaze scorched her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, like it was a secret.

His mouth found her neck, then her breasts, tongue flicking, lips teasing. She arched into him, panting as her hands gripped the table’s edge.

He kissed lower, down her stomach, before kneeling between her legs and tugging her panties down.

Then his fingers were there—just one at first, then two, slow and deliberate.

“Don’t stop,” she begged.

Now he was kissing the inside of one thigh, then another. His lips met his fingers at her center, and his mouth made love to her as if he could never taste enough?—

A sound outside broke through and dropped her back to reality.

Cocoa. Barking from the next room.

There was no Zach, no honeymoon cabin. No life-altering orgasm just minutes away. There was just Madison, flat on her back, in her childhood bedroom, tangled in too many blankets and completely, utterly mortified. Like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water right over her head.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, throwing a hand over her face. Her body still pulsed with the frustration of her unfinished fantasy, heat flushing every inch of her skin.

Madison sat up, yanked the sheet higher, and stared at the ceiling.

What in the actual hell?

It had been years since she’d seen her ex. And yet she’d had the world’s most vivid, full-body fantasy about him on her very first night back.

She hadn’t even been able to finish the dream, although that was probably a good thing.

But it had left her more frustrated than she’d ever been in her life.

She groaned. Loudly.

How was she ever going to survive the next three weeks?