Since I couldn’t in this situation, I begged Maddie to tutor me. My heart patters recalling the small smiles and stern, unamused looks Maddie flashes my way during tutoring sessions. Or our first kiss when I reached over her head to grab a book. She turned in shock, and I glanced down and needed my lips to brush against hers more than anything. A relieved gasp escaped her when her back hit the bookshelf, like all the tension I held inside for our first ten sessions was also within her.
If this is part of Ellie’s Romancelandia, it’d be safe to assume that my story revolved around a happily ever after with Maddie. However much I’d protest that with the actual Madeline Finch, tree farm working, tutoring, flannel-wearing Maddie is someone I know I could fall hard for. But with every step we trudge up her stairs, an unsettling feeling coils deep in my stomach.
This is the start of the story, and we’re already sleeping together, and her roommate is freaking Connor because, apparently, I have to hate him in every reality. It’d be funny that he’s the best friend if there weren’t detail I never had with Jenny. He’s her roommate.
I’ve read enough roommates-to-lovers in my time to know that this is their story, and I’m just the friends-with-benefits dick she has at the beginning who will lose her when she realizes she’s been in love with Connor all along. I’ll fade into the background, maybe reappear around the third-act breakup to get punched in the face by Connor, or perhaps I’ll disappear completely, and people will wonder if I’m getting my own book or not.
Those are my only two options.
“Earth to Seth Aarons, hello!”
I blink back the film glazing over my eyes, and Maddie, on her tiptoes, reaching for a bottle of something resting on the top of a stacked washer and dryer, comes into focus. “A little help, I can’t—”
“I’ve got it.” My fingers fall on her hip, and I tug her close to me. Her rosewater scent fries my circuits, and I slow my reach for the bottle, savoring her soft curves.
“Any day now, Aarons,” she says in an agitated, breathless whisper.
“I’m sorry. Is this the bottle you want?”
“Mhm,” she whimpers.
I pull the bottle down, resting it on the top of the washer. Maddie’s breath slows, and the pull between us tightens in my chest. Like I can feel how badly she wants me right now. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, I bring my lips to the shell of her ear. “What do you really want, Maddie?”
“Connor might be home,” she whispers.
I press my lips to her neck and relish the shiver that works down her exposed arms. Sure, Connor’s the end game, but I might as well enjoy my time on the page. If only the Ice Queen version of Madeline Finch could see herself like this. This gone forme. She’d be horrified, and I’d revel in every fucking second of it.
“So be quiet. Tell me, do you want this?” My fingers trail across the exposed skin on her midriff, stopping near the button on the waistband of her jeans.
“Yes,” she sighs.
“Good girl. Put your hands on the dryer.”
A small gasp escapes Maddie’s lips. She places her palms against the dryer. With one hand hooked around her thigh, I hold her close to me, using my other hand to unfasten the button on her jeans and slip it under the cotton waistband of her underwear.
My finger splits her seam, finding her swollen center, slick and ready for me already. Held enraptured by the pattern of her heavy breathing, I listen to her quiet whimpers and moans as I swirl and flick according to her needs.
Hell, I would do this every day to hear those sounds.
My other hand leaves her thigh, exploring the curves of her body before gripping one of her breasts. Maddie bucks against my hand, and I hold her tight, matching her rhythm.
“That’s it, Maddie. Give in.” I coax her as her hands drop from the dryer, gripping the edge of the washer—everything in her tenses to the point of climax. I bury my lips into the side of her neck, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her nipple before grabbing it again and giving her two of my fingers.
Her legs quiver against mine. “Ride my hand, Maddie.”
I press my palm flat against her clit as I drag two fingers in and out. Her warmth sends me to the brink of losing conscious control of this situation. I want to strip her of everything and slam her against this machine, but Maddie needs a very careful balance of gentleness and teasing to come, and it’d hurt her if I gave in to the primal parts of me clawing their way to the surface.
Maddie’s hips buck back and forth as she thrashes against my fingers.
“Just like that, good girl. Come for me, love, let go.”
Finally, everything in her shudders with a spasm and a loud cry. Her shoulders heave as she uses the washer/dryer for stability, and I relish her little aftershocks, still tracing her pleasure with my finger.
Maddie pivots right into my chest, breathless and shaking. She grazes her teeth on her bottom lip, tilting her chin towards me, fluttering her eyes closed when the pad of my thumb brushes over her cheek.
I smirk, running my finger down her limp, plump lip, swollen from biting down on it to suffocate most of her cries.
With flush cheeks and mussed-up hair, she looks decimated in all the right ways.
