Page 46 of Wicked Games of Desire

“Thank you,” I say, trying not to sound ungrateful, and pull the blanket around me a little tighter, even though I’m sure I would have been just fine to walk the short distance from his car to the house.

He places his finger on a keypad next to the door, causing it to unlock and open into the room. Once we’re inside, he closes the door and double-checks that it’s locked. This place doesn’t look as secure as the mansion, and I wonder how they think they can keep us all safe here if the last place was so easily infiltrated.

The interior of this home is truly delightful. The combination of warm wood and soft furniture gives it a cozy and comforting atmosphere, like a heartfelt embrace. Despite being much smaller than what we were used to, the kitchen exudes a delightful rustic charm, with pots and pans hanging above the stove and an old-fashioned-styleoven. The leather couch, while it looks worn, is nestled in next to a cozy-looking fireplace. If we weren’t here because some dude is after me, this could be a relaxing holiday retreat. I half expect the place to be dusty since it’s just been sitting here not being used, but there’s not a speck of dust in sight. A hint of lemon lingers in the air, like someone has freshly cleaned it. How odd when they could have had no way of knowing we would have to use this place today.

“I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can clean yourself up.” Maddox passes me, heading toward the back of the house.

I follow closely behind him, not wanting to be alone in my vulnerable condition. While strolling down the hallway, a sense of nostalgia washes over me as I gaze at the floral wallpaper. “Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?” I mutter almost to myself.

He glances over his shoulder, his expression stern. “You remember this place, but not me. Nice to know.” He shoves open a heavy door. “Fresh towels under the sink,” he snips, and I get the impression I have pissed him off again. What did I do this time? This man is moodier than me on the pill.

As I walk by, he casually leans against the door. I observe him. Should I remember him? He was friends with my brother, so I’m sure we could have crossed paths when I was home on summer vacation, but I can’t place him. The only version of this man I remember was the one breaking into my father’s house in the middle of the night.

The bathroom features a traditional shower with a curtain, and the tiles have a gentle salmon-pink color. A free-standing clawfoot bath takes pride of place under a large window that looks out over the forest. My gaze flicks to Maddox, my heart suddenly racing. “I came to a party here with Marco, didn’t I? I got drunk and you stayed with me all night right here on the cold tile floor.” I stare back at him, seeing him differently. “You looked after me.”

His eyes drop to the ground. “You shouldn’t have been drinking at all.”

I close the gap between us. “Yeah, that’s what you kept saying. You were so cranky with me. I must have been like fifteen or sixteen.” I stop dead in my tracks when a flash of a memory floods through me. “You kissed me.”

His eyes slowly rise to meet mine. He gazes at me, not saying a word, but the way his tongue darts out and moistens his bottom lip tells me all I need to know.

“That’s why you kept saying I was too young. Because you shouldn’t have kissed me.” My head feels like it’s going to explode. Not just from the pain throbbing through it, but because this revelation has literally just blown my mind. Maddox was my first kiss. It was a hazy, fumbled mess because I was so trashed on cheap beer, but he was so kind to me that night. I remember that part. He was sweet, not like the guy standing before me now. And he was scrawnier, lanky, with his hair darker, all long and floppy, hanging over his eyes. But I now know for sure it was him. How could I have repressed that memory? Or was I just so embarrassingly drunk that it was all too hazy until I was in this bathroom?

“Now you know.” He moves away from me and slams the door shut. The heavy vibration rattles through the room.

He’s mad at me because I didn’t remember him? Confusion swells through me. Why is my memory so blurry from that night? I may have been young, but I don’t believe I drank enough to forget the entire night completely.

I flick on the shower, waiting for it to heat as I try to remember what went down. The beginning of the night is crystal clear. Marco insisted on bringing me along because he didn’t want me to be alone at home, mentioning something about our papa and his business associate. Iwas pissed because I didn’t want to go out to some Halloween party where I didn’t know anyone except him. But when I got here, the place was raging. I quickly became fascinated. I’d never been to a party like it before. The living room turned into a dance floor. Everyone was in costumes. Hot older guys everywhere, some hooking up with girls, some playing games. There’s a pool here, and I got thrown in it. That’s why Maddox brought me up here. I was soaking wet. He gave me his shirt. It’s worn and sporting a couple of holes now, but I still wear it to bed. Oh God, how could I have blocked the night from my memory?

Suddenly, the door bursts open, making me jump. Maddox stands in the opening. “Fuck it,” he snaps. “That night meant something to me. You mean something to me, Harley.” His hands are on me before I even know what’s happening, his full lips devouring me in a desperate kiss, transporting me back in time. And I’m right here for it.

Chapter 27

With one swift motion,Maddox tears open Alex’s shirt, exposing my breasts and panties, while his lips continue to press against mine, shoving me back into the cold tile wall. His calloused hands cradle my breasts, eliciting a delicious tingling as my nipples respond to his touch.

“Fuck Maddox,” I murmur into his kiss. Tension has been building between us since I broke into their compound. I knew it was only a matter of time before he really let go and gave me what we both wanted.

He eagerly devours my sigh of pleasure, invading my mouth with his tongue. While I greedily reach for his shirt. He might have had me bare and cumming on his hands, but I didn’t get what I really wanted that day in the kitchen. To have him. He lets me tug it over his head and discard it on the floor. I have no clue what he’s currently thinking, but I’m all for it after the morning we’ve had. I need anything I can to distract myself from whatever fresh hell that was.

My hands glide across his sculpted chest, tracing the ink before digging my nails into his exposed flesh. He retaliates, biting into my lip hard enough that he draws blood. Sucking, his eyes are brimming with pleasure as he experiences the flavor of my blood. He’s sick, and I’m just as bad for loving every second of his brutality. But I knew screwing Maddox would be like this. Rough, just like he is, and I’m here for it.

After loosening his belt, he removes his pants then pushes me inside the shower along with him. The warmth hits my back, sending goosebumps scattering. I let the water soak my hair, a red tinge filling the stream that runs down the drain. A shudder runs through me at the sight of it. “Gross.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll put a better memory of this bathroom in your head. One you won’t forget. Ever.” He says it like a threat, and I’m right back in the moment with him. He produces a washcloth, cleaning my blood-stained skin tenderly. The scent of my body wash mixes with the steam filling my nostrils. I try not to think about how creepy it is that this place has my exact choice of body wash as well.

“Turn around,” he instructs, and I wonder why. Is he about to fuck me from behind? I hope so. I do as he says.

His hands rove over my hips, following the curves of my body before he pulls my hair into his hands, squishing out the excess water. It’s such a soft gesture, and I glance over my shoulder, surprised to find him squirting some of my coconut shampoo into his hand, massaging my scalp as he soaps up my hair. I can’t resist groaning in pleasure as he treats me to the best shampoo and condition treatment I’ve ever had. He sticks to the same routine, rinsing out the conditioner once he’s done. It’s shocking to see someone so tough display such tenderness and care while washing me. Maybe he’s not the monster I originally painted him as. At least not with me.

He turns me back to face him, his hungry eyes eating up every inch of my naked body. “Better?” he asks.

I give a small nod and smile. Right when I was about to compliment his exceptional hair-washing skills and suggest he should have become a hairstylist instead of a mobster, he cuts me off, his lips finding their way back to mine.

His rough touch traces over every inch of my body. He grips my ass, lifting me up like I weigh nothing. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, before he presses me against the cold tile wall. As his lips move across my neck, water sprays over both of us, and he gently bites his way down to my nipple. He sucks it into his mouth with so much force I draw in a breath, feeling like I’m going to explode already. This is more what I expected from him.

My hands lace into his hair, and I tug at the ends, matching his intensity. “I kind of remember you. It’s just I didn’t realize it was you. You grew up,” I mutter, needing him to know that kiss meant something to me as well. The boy who took care of me that night was so sweet and kind, he made me feel special. Who knows what would have happened to me that night if he wasn’t there.

He releases my nipple with a pop, his mesmerizing hazel eyes meeting mine with an intensity I didn’t expect. “So did you.” He squeezes my tits as if to say I now have curves. And he’s right. I was tiny back then. Puberty didn’t grace me with these tits until I was in my senior year.

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