Maddie’s laugh cracks the tension cleanly.“Practical and sentimental.Who knew?”
“Tell no one,” I deadpan.“It’ll ruin my brand.”
“What is your brand?”She tilts her head, eyes glinting.We’re back in teasing mode.“Brooding winger with a heart of gold?”
“Painfully handsome, devastatingly humble.”
She tilts her head, considering.“Nah.”
“Beast in the sack?”I suggest.
The blush returns like it’s on a string.“God, you’re insufferable.”
“Persistent,” I correct, which earns me an eye roll I catalog as another small win.
CHAPTER 21
Maddie
Ishould bein my room.I should be alone, curled under my blanket, pretending I don’t hear the shower running down the hall.Pretending my body isn’t tuned to every sound he makes, every footstep, every scrape of a drawer.
But I’m not in my room.
I’m in the doorway of his, barefoot, pulse skittering like it’s on thin ice.And when Atlas looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed—hair damp, T-shirt clinging to his shoulders, his gaze steady and unreadable—I don’t turn away.
I step inside and let the door click shut behind me.
“Rules still apply,” I tell him, though my voice comes out husky.“This doesn’t mean anything.”
His mouth curves, wolfish.“Sure.”
And then he moves.
There’s no hesitation, no waiting.His hands are on me before I can think, gripping the hem of my tank top and dragging it upward.The cotton whispers over my ribs, and then it’s gone, tossed somewhere I don’t care about.My bra follows and I gasp at the cool air on my skin, but it lasts only a heartbeat before the heat of his gaze takes over.
The way he looks at me—hungry, reverent, like I’m the only thing he’s been starving for—makes me ache.My nipples tighten under the weight of his gaze.
Then his hands are under me, big and certain, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing.I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t, at least not my mouth.Instead, his lips close around one nipple, tongue flicking hot and wet, and the sound that rips out of me is not ladylike.Not careful.
“Atlas,” I groan, clinging to his shoulders, my head tipping back.
He leans away long enough to grin up at me.“I like my name on your lips.”
He turns and drops me to his bed, giving me no time to think.His hands are already at my shorts, undoing the button, tugging the zipper down, peeling the denim away.I arch off the mattress, trying to help, and then I’m down to panties—yellow lace, a reckless choice I regret the instant his eyes darken.
I make a sound, half warning, half need, as his palm cups me there.
Heat flares against heat as Atlas growls low in this throat.
The thin lace does nothing, not against the way he pushes his fingers underneath, sliding against me, inside me, before I can catch my breath.My hips buck, a raw shock of pleasure taking over.
“Oh, fuck—” It rips out, shameless.
He swallows the sound with a kiss, his mouth hard on mine, tongue lashing while his fingers move inside me.I can barely process it, the way everything crashes at once… his weight braced over my body, his breath hot, the rhythm of his fingers that has me on the verge of falling apart.
Too much.Not enough.Both.
I tug at his shirt, desperate, clumsy, and he helps get it off.My hands roam over the flex of his muscles, then insistently tug at his shorts.He strips down fast and then he’s gloriously naked in front of me.
