Page 7 of Worthy (Adrenalin #1)

Chapter six

Cade

D amn, he’s got me all mixed up.

Maddox is a beautiful man, and yeah, I want him, the same as I’ve always wanted beautiful people. But no other person has given me a reason to wonder if there’s more to life, more to me , than just having a good time. That’s why I felt compelled to stop and check on him when I saw his car sitting all alone by the trailhead. I thought doing that would make me a good guy.

Thank God he brings out that urge in me, or he might still be out there trying to make his way back. Although, the relief I felt after finding him was short lived, since carrying him down the trail was pure torture.

Having his body pressed against mine felt right in all the wrong ways. He was injured, hurting, and I was trying not to get a hard on.

He thinks I was grunting because he’s heavy? I was grunting because I liked the feel of his legs wrapped around me, his groin brushing against my back with each step. He liked it too. The way his thighs flexed with the effort of trying to hold his body away from mine gave that away, which only made it harder to keep my own reaction at bay. So, that grunt had nothing to do with his weight, and everything to do with lust.

He has no idea of the effect he has on me. How could he, when I don’t understand it myself? There’s just something about those dark, intense eyes and those plump, pink lips I can’t get enough of. I see them even when he’s not around, and when he is, I find it hard to leave. Prolonging my time with him won’t do either of us any good, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to. Doesn’t stop me from wondering what it’d be like to be with him.

A man.

Would it be rough and urgent, or gentle and sweet, seeing as how a certain amount of prep has to be part of the equation? And would he like to be touched the same way I do, or would he have different preferences? What would his stubble feel like against my cheek? The hair on his legs. Would he be tighter than a woman? What’s it like to be filled while having your cock stroked? Are the orgasms the same, or better?

Fuck, these questions are getting me riled.

I should get out of here. Put some distance between us since my feelings are so jumbled. But what kind of asshole leaves an injured guy alone. Though it’s only an ankle sprain, he still shouldn’t be putting weight on it. That means either someone has to be around to help, or he needs crutches.

I have crutches at my place. They’re handy to keep around, because in this town someone always needs a pair. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave him to go get them. I should, but I won’t, because with the crutches there’s no reason for me to stay. And I want to.

Sooner or later, when I don’t have an excuse to help out, or the summer ends, he’ll be out of reach. When that happens, I’ll have to let him go. So, I’ll worry about the crutches tomorrow, because tonight I’m going to take what I can get. What can I say? I’m a selfish bastard. A selfish bastard sitting so close to where his ankle is propped on the couch, his toes are nearly touching my forearm. Long toes, that are masculine looking even though they’re a little puffy.

“You hungry?” I jump off the couch. “You probably need to eat something, right?”

“Probably.” He sighs. “You must be hungry too. There should be a frozen pizza in there,” he calls after me as I make my way to the kitchen.

I find the pizza and preheat the oven, but instead of going back to the other room I find myself poking around the kitchen, looking for something else to do.

I’m an asshole. I’m being totally selfish. Madd’s the type of person who’s proud of his independence, and I’m forcing him to rely on me. I’m taking pleasure in it. I like how he needed my help to get off the trail, and how he needed me to bandage him up and needs me now to cook him dinner. I like that he’ll need my help to move around, at least for tonight. And I really like how those gorgeous gray eyes are looking at me with respect and appreciation.

I’m not used to people looking at me that way. Sometimes Ally does, like when I said I’d help her with her bike, but that’s only because I said I’d do her a favor. Most everyone else who looks at me does it with lust in their eyes.

For years, I enjoyed the hell out of those looks. I’d see them and my dick would twitch, knowing it was about to have some fun. It didn’t matter that the one and only thing tourists saw in me was someone to play with during their vacay since I saw the same thing in them.

Truth be told, I considered myself lucky, because I thought those lusty glances were the best way a person could look at you. The raw need in a heated stare has made me feel alive more times than I care to admit. At least it did until the first time Maddox looked at me with respect, and damn if that didn’t make those looks of desire feel kind of empty.

I never thought I’d say something so mature , but there it is. It just doesn’t have the same effect that it used to.

The other night I saw a woman across the room watching me, and nothing happened. My dick didn’t even twitch. She was hot, exactly the type of woman I’d usually consider an easy lay, and I didn’t want any part of it. I feigned food poisoning and left early, wondering what was wrong with me.

It makes sense now, because a few minutes ago, when Madd looked at me like I was his hero, I felt something. Not a twitch exactly, but something . I liked it. My dick liked it. I kind of want to feel it again, which is why I’m hiding in the kitchen, cooking boxed pizza like a good little boy. A selfish, bastard, but a good little boy… with pizza.

“Did you find it?” Maddox calls.

“Yeah,” I reply as I open the fridge, looking for something to use as an excuse for hiding out in here. Lettuce. Some vegetables. Perfect. “I thought I’d make a salad to go with it. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” he answers.

I get busy chopping things up, which keeps my mind off my weird feelings and my unexplainable dick twitches— sort of. It’s a mindless task, but the fact I’m doing it at all feels strange because I’ve never made a meal for a man before. Or a woman for that matter. I’ve never wanted to.

When everything’s ready, I make him a plate and carry it into the living room. I get him set up with the food on his lap, then take my seat on the couch. I’m still aware of how close we are, but at least the meal is a distraction .

“Thanks for cooking,” Maddox says when he’s done, reaching toward the coffee table with his plate. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

I take it from him, so he doesn’t have to reach too far. “Tell me if you need something. I don’t want you to move any more than you have to, okay?”

“I’m not helpless.” There’s an almost defensive tone to his voice.

“Never said you were.”

“It doesn’t even hurt that bad. It’s more uncomfortable than painful. I can probably walk on it.”

“Probably,” I agree, since he’d be in a lot more pain if he’d done significant damage. “But why would you if you don’t have to? Might as well use me for whatever you need since I’m here.”

“You can’t help with what I need.” He braces his hands on the couch like he’s going to push off it, but I stop him with a palm to the chest.

“Seriously, Madd. Whatever it is, let me help.”

“Madd?” He arches a thick brow, causing me to realize my mistake.

“I uh…” I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. “I’ve sort of been calling you that in my head, since you usually seem to be mad at me. Or annoyed.”

He fights the lip that wants to curl upward. “Well, I guess it’s better than Solo. But seriously—” he pushes off again “—you can’t help with this.”

“What are you doing?” I pop off the couch, arms splayed in case I need to catch him.

“Taking a piss.”

Well fuck, he’s got me there.

Once standing, Maddox rests his bad foot on the ground for balance and hops forward with the good one in a limp that’s so awkward it’s painful to watch. My arms, acting on autopilot, reach out to help, only he does it again, hopping just out of reach.

Is he making progress?

Sorta.

Is it pretty?

Hell no.

“Sure you don’t want help?” I trail behind him, arms at the ready.

“Pretty sure I can hold my own dick.”

“That’s not—” Is he offering? Wait, no. I’m supposed to be behaving. “I meant do you want to lean on me for balance.”

“I know what you meant. But you’re not obnoxiously flirting and it’s weirding me out, so I had to get you back on track.”

My brows pull together in a silent question before I realize he can’t see that with me trailing behind him. “I thought you hated my flirting?”

“I did, when I thought you just wanted another meaningless notch on your bedpost.”

I’ll probably regret this, but I have this nagging feeling I’ll regret lying to the guy even more. “That is all I wanted.”

Madd stops limping and looks at me over his shoulder. “ Wanted . Past tense.”

“You think I don’t want that anymore?”

“I don’t know. But if you do, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be meaningless.” Maddox shuts himself in the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if it’s better or worse that he didn’t tell me it’ll never happen.

** *

The room is dimly lit when I wake up, a still image of Ted Lasso on the TV screen. Blinking my mind awake, I recall watching nearly the entire first season, Madd’s foot propped on a pillow in my lap, before sleep claimed us.

My back is stiff from sleeping upright, and I stretch as slowly as possible, so I don’t disturb Maddox, who’s foot is still resting on my lap. He looks younger in sleep—still ruggedly sexy—but also soft. For a brief second, I wish I was lying next to him so I could breathe in his orange scent, but I shake my head to clear the thought before it can stick. I should be thinking about how to keep my distance instead of wishing I could get closer, especially after staying the night.

I look around the room for a clock, curious about the time. The sun is up, but it’s overcast, making it hard to guess the hour. I lean back as far as the couch will allow and fish my phone out of my pocket. Just after seven. I text Deacon to grab me some clothes and the crutches from my garage since there’s no point going home before coming back here to work.

The weight in my lap shifts and I turn my attention to Maddox. His eyes flutter a few times before he winces, telling me his ankle is still tender. I reach out my hand to calm him but think better of it and pull back since I’m not even sure he realizes I’m here, and my touch might startle him.

“Morning,” I say softly. He stiffens, like he’s surprised to hear my voice, then relaxes when his eyes connect with mine.

I like that far too much.

“How’s the ankle?” I ask.

“Sore,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Can I take a look?”

He nods .

I gently lift his leg and take off the bandage. The swelling has gone down some, and it’s slightly discolored, but not the nasty shade of purple I was expecting. That’s a good sign.

“Looks like we got some of the swelling down, and it’s not bruised.” I turn his ankle slowly to get a good look while trying not to notice how soft his skin feels beneath the dusting of coarse blonde hairs on his leg. “The sprain itself probably wasn’t that bad but walking on it after didn’t help. You should keep it up when you’re sitting and put some ice on it throughout the day. Overall, though, it looks pretty good.”

I re-wrap his foot, then stand and offer my hands. “Think you can put weight on it?”

He puts his hands in mine and pulls himself to stand, gritting his teeth somewhat when he adds a little weight to his bad foot.

“Looks like we should keep you off it another day or two,” I say more to myself than to him.

“How?”

“There’s an old pair of crutches at my place. I asked Deacon to see if he can find them before he comes over.” Taking a gamble that he’ll be more agreeable to a little help this morning, I wrap one of his arms around my shoulders and slide mine around his waist. “Bathroom or kitchen?”

“Kitchen.”

I help him hobble to one of the barstools before brewing a pot of coffee and scrambling some eggs, doing my best to stay facing the stove instead of ogling him while I cook.

“What’d you think of Ted Lasso?” I ask as I plate our breakfast.

“It’s deeper than I expected. Funny, but deep. Which character did Ally say I should be?” He takes a bite of eggs.

“Trent Crimm, the reporter with the wavy black hair.” Before I can add anything else there’s a knock at the door and I go let Deacon in .

“Wow, nice place.” He whistles, taking in the walnut cabinets and stainless-steel appliances in the chef’s kitchen. “Did you make breakfast again?” He looks at Maddox.

“You’re carrying crutches, why ?” I rest my hands on my hips.

He looks me up and down, seeing that my body is perfectly operational, then Maddox’s, seeing the wrapped ankle. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Can’t think straight when I smell food.” He winks at me and slips further into the kitchen.

I dish him a plate and he digs in while I make sure the crutches are set for Madd’s height.

“Ever use these before?” I ask him.

“Never. But they’re pretty self-explanatory, right?”

“Yep, just try not to let them rub against your armpit when you use them, the skin can get irritated. Do a quick lap and let me make sure you’re good.” I pass him the crutches and help him to his feet.

Maddox does as I ask and makes his way around the kitchen, even testing a little weight since he has the crutches for balance. It’s exactly what I would do, and I suddenly understand why my mom always used to mutter typical man every time I was told to take it easy and didn’t.

“Great. You’re all set. I’m gonna change and then get to work,” I tell them both as I grab my clothes from the counter where Deacon dropped them.

When I’m done, I head back to the kitchen to find Deacon has cleaned up and is already outside. Maddox is still sitting at the breakfast bar, a distant look on his face that makes me want to blow off work. But after the whole it wouldn’t be meaningless thing last night, I figure distance is best. At least until I know if that comment was supposed to be a warning or an invitation. And which I want it to be.

“Don’t forget to ice.” I remind him when his gaze meets mine .

“I won’t.” He nods.

I grab a piece of paper and pen from the kitchen desk and scribble my number on it. “If you need anything or if your ankle feels worse, call me.” I hold out the paper.

“I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks for everything.” His fingers graze mine as he takes it.

“I mean it, Maddox.” His head snaps up when I say his name, and I take a step closer, so he has to look up at me. “I want you to call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” He blinks.

“I’ll check on you later. Take it easy today.” I rest my hand on his arm as I make my way past him, and immediately want to kick myself for it, because it was way too intimate and yet not intimate enough for the night we just shared.