“If you finish that sentence,” I said calmly,“I will personally drive you to the train station tonight.”
She gasped.
“So hostile. Where did I go wrong raising you?”
“University apparently,” Stella murmured.
My mother laughed.
Stella laughed.
And I stood between them, realising with a sinking feeling that the two most dangerous women in my life had just discovered they liked each other.
God help me.
Chapter 23
Stella
Maddox groaned as he pulled me closer beneath the covers, his arm tightening around my waist as though he could shield us both from the rest of the house.
“Did you tuck your mum in?” I murmured sleepily, resting my cheek against his chest.
“Why did you let her in?” he grumbled.“She could have found a nice hotel. Preferably one far, far away from here.”
I smiled against his skin, tracing lazy circles along his ribs.
“If your mum’s a sex therapist, what does your dad do?” I asked, turning slightly so I could look up at him.
“He’s retired now,” Maddox said, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.“But he was a civil engineer.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek.
His lips lingered there longer than necessary, warm and slow. Then his fingers tilted my chin toward him and he kissed my mouth.
Softly at first.
Then deeper.
His tongue slipped between my lips and I tasted the cool sharpness of mint from his toothpaste. The contrast of it against the warmth of his mouth made a small shiver run down my spine.
Our legs tangled beneath the sheets as I hooked my hand behind his head, pulling him closer and kissing him back.
His hand slid along my side, warm and heavy against my skin.
Then—
A loud pounding slammed against the bedroom door.
Maddox jerked upright instantly, the mood shattered as if someone had thrown cold water over us.
“I want lots of grandbabies, chop-chop!” his mother’s voice called from the hallway.“You’re not getting any younger, son, and neither am I!”
Maddox stared at the door in stunned disbelief before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“Go to sleep, Mother,” he shouted through the door.“You’ve killed the mood.”
I buried my face in the pillow, trying—and failing—not to laugh.
