Page 85 of Between Dusk and Dawn

She turned toward me, the ends of her hair soaked. "What?" She furrowed her brows.

"My first kiss," I confessed.

Her laughter rang out, as if I had shared a humorous anecdote. "No. Come on. I know you were dating Cagen."

I shook my head, dispelling any doubt. "No. I never kissed her."

"What’re you talking about? I saw you kiss her."

"That wasn’t what this is, Madison. This was a kiss that transcends words. This was a kiss that brought me to my knees willingly."

Her laughter faded, replaced by a curious gaze. "Why me?" she asked.

"You know, when our lips touched, it felt like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkness. It was as if the warmth I'd been craving, the warmth I didn't even know I needed, finally enveloped me. I lived so long between the hours of dusk and dawn that I didn't realize what the warmth felt like."

Her eyes held a mix of surprise and curiosity, urging me to continue. "When I kiss you, in those moments, the world outside ceases to exist, and it’s just you and me, cocooned in this love I never knew I was missing."

I saw the reflection of the flickering pool lights from the yard in her eyes, creating a soft, mesmerizing glow. "Your lips against mine felt like the culmination of all the emotions we've shared, the unspoken words, the silent yearning. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a connection—a bond that transcended the physical and reached into the depths of our souls."

I paused, allowing the weight of my words to settle. "So, when I say you're my first, I don't just mean the first kiss. I mean the first sunrise, the first light that dispelled the darkness, and the first warmth that filled the cold spaces within. You're my first in every sense, Madison, and I wouldn't want it any other way."

She hesitated, tears spilling from her eyes and into the warm bathtub. "Don’t cry, Muse."

"How did you know?" she whispered, shifting in the water so she hung over the side of the tub. My hands enveloped hers.

Truthfully, I didn’t, not until I left my hotel room in Seattle. Did I have the means to find every single piece of her background? Yes. When she was in college, I ran a quick check to make sure she was never arrested or had any ties to thefamily businesses when I was dating Cagen, but otherwise, it felt invasive digging further.

"I know. I know." I flicked some water at her in jest as she narrowed her eyes at me. "I know that seems absurd because of all the cameras, but those were because I was fucking curious. The me not digging part was merely because it felt like there were pieces of you that you were deliberately hiding, and I didn’t want to be the one to uncover them."

"What do you mean?" She turned her head to the side just as I grabbed a piece of hair and twisted it around my fingers.

"I just feel like you were going to tell me when you were ready." I told her about how I finally researched it when I was coming back from Seattle. It was really what pushed me to get back home to see.

"There was so much devastation." I remembered what it was like seeing those images of her scorched home. There were dozens of articles that shared very intimate photos of a little girl's room drowned by the fire that had been set ablaze.

"Please don’t cry, Muse." I plucked her out of the water, letting her naked body wrap against mine. "Please."

I was fucking unraveling and needed to take control. Fuck, that need that ran so deep within me wanted so desperately to fix the problems.

I wrapped her in a bath sheet, the best fucking one I could find, before I dropped her off at the vanity. "Stay here."

She nodded before I ran back into the bedroom and grabbed a small stool from the office, bringing it into the bathroom and placing it in front of the mirror.

"Sit," I demanded. Her big beautiful green eyes stared at me. She obliged, sitting with her towel wrapped tightly around her.

"One more second," I said, going back into the bedroom where I’d had her belongings that she ran away with; I pulled outher makeup bag and grabbed the brush before heading back into the room.

She looked so lost and sullen sitting on the stool inside the brisk white bathroom. Fuck, her being in here with her bright-red hair made me realize how much I missed color. Everything felt so stark without her in it.

"What’re you doing?" she asked as I approached her, brush in hand.

"Brushing your hair." She craned her neck to look back at me, but I forced her back to the mirror in front of the bathroom counters.

Very slowly, I brought the brush to her hair, making my way through her wet locks.

"Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me who hurt you."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

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