Maddie
Fear was a funny thing.
I was paralyzed on the couch, fingers locked around my buttons, heart slamming against my ribcage.
I’d taken Hawke in my mouth tonight, all the way down. I’d trusted him enough to let him spank me. I’d begged him for more, again and again, and I’d let him explore my most private places, bringing me to ecstasy with every delicious kiss so many times I’d lost count.
Even after he’d freaked out and bailed on me, I’d forgiven him, letting him do all those filthy, beautiful things to me all over again.
Scariest of all? I’d watched him transform from the wolf I thought might eat me into the man who saved my life. A man who’d spent the last hour telling me all the monsters in the movies were real. That some of them were even my clients.
But none of that had frightened me away.
Only this.
This one ridiculously small, inconsequential thing was the thing that’d stopped me in dead my tracks and forced that silly little safe word out of my mouth.
He’d tried to take off my shirt.
“Maddie?” Hawke cupped my face, his stormy gray eyes filled with a mix of concern and confusion. “Damn, you’re shaking. You’re scared out of your mind.” Guilt replaced the confusion in his eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not one hundred percent comfortable with—that’s why I gave you the safe word. There’s no need to be scared.”
“I know. It’s not… it’s not that.”
“What did I do?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Jesus, Maddie. Tell me so I can fix this. Whatever it is, let me fix it. Please.”
“Hawke. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I closed the distance between us, climbing into his lap and straddling him, the cold metal of his button and zipper an exquisite shock against my bare flesh.
God,he was so hard for me.
The aftershocks of his touch lingered; I was still so wound up for him—no matter how intense my fears—and I needed him to know it.
I curled my hands over his shoulders and smiled, trying to be brave. Trying to find the words to explain something I barely understood myself.
“I want you,” I whispered. “Please believe it. It’s just…”
Hawke ran his hands up my back, burying them in my hair. When I still didn’t finish my thought, he said, “I’d give anything to know what’s was going on in that head of yours, Cupcake. Anything in the world.”
“It’s… kind of a long story.”
“Everything with you is kind of a long story.” He smiled and touched his forehead to mine. “Besides, I told you mine, right? So maybe it’s time you tell me yours. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
I nodded and took a deep, steadying breath, trying to decide where to start.
Reaching inside my snowman top, I fished out my heart locket, opening it up so Hawke could see the inside. There were no pictures, no jewels. Only names, one engraved on each side.
Madison on the left.
Rachel on the right.
Hawke held the locket between his thumb and forefinger, turning it so he could read it in the firelight. “Who’s Rachel?”
“She died,” I said. “Skiing accident last December twentieth. I was in a coma at the time—for about a week at that point.”
“What?” He dropped the locked and shifted his hands to my hips, holding me tight, his gaze turning fierce. “What the hell happened?”
“The last thing I remember was my parents standing on either side of my hospital bed, both of them in tears. They’d flown in that night—the doctor came in and told them to prepare for the worst. They didn’t think I was conscious at the time, but I heard every word. Doc said I wouldn’t survive the week.”
I closed my eyes, shivering at the memories of those dark days. But I had to keep going, had to get this out. I wanted Hawke to know me, and this was my story, part of who I was just like the wolf was part of him—part of the long and winding roads that eventually brought us here.
