“I will grovel until the end of time for that, Buttercup, but let’s get you to the couch first.” He leans in and presses a kiss on my forehead.
I waffle again at the idea of him taking care of me. I’m still wicked anxious about opening up to him, even if he already knows most of the truth.
“That’s an order, Madeline Finch,” he says, dipping into his stern voice again. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Please let me spoil you. Don’t deny me that.”
“So bossy.” I click my tongue and shake my head. Hoping to wipe away the illicit images his bossy tone and fiery stare inspire. “You know, it’s not as endearing when we’re not in the bedroom.”
“Oh, bullshit, you like me like this any time, sweetheart.” He winks. “You. Couch. Now.”
My gaze falls on his bossy mouth, and I graze my teeth along my lower lip.
“I’ll kiss you once you’re there. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Oh, like what?” I widen my eyes and flutter my lashes. If Seth is struggling not to kiss me right now, I will torture him over it. Fair is fair.
“Fucking temptress.” He growls, leaning down and brushing his lips against mine.
It’s a tender kiss, apologetic even. Our first real one. He tilts his head, and I grant him better access, teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue and coaxing him out of his gentle possession of my mouth. The tug in my stomach toward him heightens as we explore each other like we’re both finally accepting the bond, and now it’s firmly stamped in place.
A sharp jolt grips me, but I don’t want to stop. I never want his lips to leave mine ever again.
“Maddie.” He pulls away, resting his head on my forehead. “Please go sit on the couch and let me get you cozy. I’ll make you a hot chocolate. We can snuggle. You can fall asleep on me. How does that sound?”
“Pretty fucking fantastic.” My chest heaves against his. And it’s not a lie. It sounds like an absolute dream. Maybe being vulnerable wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if this is the result.
Seth guides me to the couch, and I lower myself down, gathering the heating pad I keep there at all times and cuddling into it. Grabbing a blanket from the top of the couch, he wraps me up like I’m the snuggest burrito, tucking it around my back and making sure not an inch of skin is exposed to the cold air in the apartment.
“Do you need anything else before I put the cookies in the oven?” he asks.
“Just your unconditional love and maybe some fuzzy socks.”
Oh. My medicine probably hasn’t kicked in yet, so already having verbal diarrhea isn’t a great sign for me. Being vulnerable is addicting.
He chuckles. “Already getting needy.”
My heart plummets into the ugly depths of my chest. Damn it, see, this is why we aren’t vulnerable with people, because no one wants to see my soft side. It’s repulsive. “I’m sorry, I —”
“I mean, unconditional love I can do, but fuzzy socks? Asking a bit much.” His lips twitch. I toss a pillow at his obnoxiously attractive head. But he’s unfortunately athletic and shit and dodges it. “Where are they, love?” He dips his head, brushing my hair out of my face, and presses a kiss on my temple.
“Top drawer. Mind the lingerie. That was for a night that you ghosted me, and I need to return it.”
“Oh, that’s a dirty play.” He rubs his hands to his heart like he’s been wounded, walking into my bedroom.
I smirk when I hear a tiny “Oh, fuck.”
I picked out a particularly spicy red lace number last week that made me look like a present that needed to be unwrapped.
“Have I mentioned how sorry I am?” He bellows.
“Once or twice,” I holler back. “Just bring me some socks, and all will be forgiven until the next time you leave.”
He pushes his sleeves past his elbow before kneeling beside the couch and gesturing for my feet. “I’m not going anywhere, so unless you have running plans of your own, I think you’re stuck with me, Madeline.”
“Why would I run when you bring me fuzzy socks and cookie dough?” I giggle, wiggling my toes. A warmth spirals inside, dulling my pain and sensibilities all at once.
A nervous energy flickers over Seth’s face. He rubs the back of his head, coloring rushing to his cheeks. “You know, I think I have the skills to do that in the real world, too. Would you still want to stick around with me then?”
I want to reassure and assuage his anxiety that I’ll want him in the real world. Because I will. I know I’ve wanted him there, loved him there for so long, even when I fiercely denied it. But I’m worried that admiration won’t run both ways. What if he fell in love with a version of me in this world, but that’s not who Madeline Finch is? What happens when I become all the things he hates again?
