Page 64 of On The Edge

I have to hand it to the fucker. He was right about that one thing.

It’s been absolute goddamn torture. Watching her lips as she talks to me. Seeing the curve of her ass in those tiny sleep shorts she wears. Sliding into bed, knowing she’s within reach, remembering just how damn good she is.

I’ve kept my distance. Tried to as much as one possibly can when you’re essentially living with someone. Filled my head with the cold, hard truth. She’ll never be mine. I’ll never deserve her. And quite frankly, she deserves much better than me. She deserves a man who can tell her the things she needs to hear. Who can treat her how she deserves to be treated. Not one who can’t commit for shit because of the life he lives and the abandonment issues he has.

Gotta love those Mamá and Papá issues.

But isn’t that what is causing all the confusion?

Since when do I, Cruz Navarro, ever care about shit like that? I care about the next orgasm. About not getting bored with the woman of the moment. With the good time to be had by all.

I don’t worry about feelings. I let my cock do the thinking when it comes to women. And I let the alcohol lead the way to the party.

So why do I care about it this time around? Why is Madds different?

She shifts in her sleep. Murmurs. And I swear she says my name. My cock twitches and balls ache.

We spend so much time together. I’ve never been around one woman this long. Ever. That has to be the why behind all of this.

And yet I can’t look away. Her soft lips. Her dark lashes. Her fucking perfume.

Fuck, man.

I need another drink. I hold up the bottle and sigh. It’s fucking empty.

Then is the only reason the room’s spinning because of the woman in front of me?

I rest my head back against the chair.

You’re distracted and it showed.

A good start would be you getting rid of her.

Fuck. That. Fuck. Him.

I might be distracted, Papá, but I’m not getting rid of her.

Your comment, your order, just made fucking sure of that.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Cruz

“Are we ready to . . .” I let my voice trail off as I shut the door to the hotel room when I hear Maddix’s voice from the open door on the balcony.

“I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.” She pauses, but I’m not that much of an asshole that from her tone, I don’t know something is wrong. “It’s just words, Mom.” A sigh. “Yes. Words and pictures. It’s not like I wasn’t aware of that, but thanks.”

I set the coffee I brought her down and hang back, clearly walking in on a conversation. One I’m more than curious about.

“I told you. I’m fine. We’re fine.” Maddix moves now so that I can see her. She’s in one of those tight pair of black leggings that hug her ass and a tank top that no doubt does the same for her tits.

Fucking hell. Yeah. Not gonna lie. Those are my favorite outfits of hers.

“I don’t care if Michael’s calling you. I’m not obligated to pick up the phone when he calls. Neither are you. From the looks of it, he’s one of the anonymous sources so . . . no, I don’t owe him anything.” She falls silent, her head hanging down as she nods. What the fuck did Michael do? “I wasn’t lying to you, Mom. Things just . . . they just kind of happened between us. Quickly. And now . . . now all of this.” She makes a noncommittal sound to whatever her mother says. “I guess it’s par for the course. It’s just a course I’m not exactly used to.”

I look around the hotel room. Maddix’s bags are already packed and sitting beside mine. She’s collected the half-empty water bottles we left around and has them piled in the recycle bin beside the desk where her laptop is open. The comforter is pulled up on the bed, and all of the bath towels are in one pile on the floor.

The ever-efficient Maddix Hart, ladies and gentlemen, is ready for checkout.