Page 90 of His Secret Obsession

“I mean, I was sitting next to the only empty spot left. I figured if you wanted a drink, you’d have to come over here sooner or later.”

She blinks at me, and I purse my lips to keep from grinning when that blush returns. “Oh, you actually meant thirsty, as in…” Her teeth clamp down onto her bottom lip. This time, I can’t keep my quiet laughter contained, and she shoots me a playful glare.

“You look thirsty for that, too,” I murmur into my beer as I take another sip. I expect her to smack me on the shoulder and tell me not to ruin the game, but she surprises me.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I saw all the other women looking this way and decided I needed to make my move.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Just as the bartender deposits her drink and moves onto the next customer, I find myself about two heartbeats away from breaking our little charade. I’m about to drain the last of my beer and throw her over my shoulder when she speaks again.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves first. I’m Maddison Raddix, and you are?”

My mind flashes back to that fateful night all those years ago, and I remember the way her smiles had warmed me then, too. Just like then, I have the same urge to keep her here in my presence.

“Jax Parker. Nice to meet you, Maddie.” I almost cringe at the familiar slip as the nickname rolls off my tongue, the reminder that this game isn’t real. But she only smiles fondly at me.

“Only my friends get to call me Maddie,” she says, her voice practically a purr. The sensuality of it sends a shiver down my spine.

It makes me want to pull her into the cab of my truck and bounce her on my cock. Maybe if I play my cards right…

“What if I don’t want to be your friend?” Reaching forward, my hands wrap around the wooden legs of her stool much like they did that night. I pull it closer to me, watching her pupils dilate as I invade her space. I widen my legs, making sure my denim-clad thighs brush against hers.

“What do you want to be then?” she asks, her voice breathy. Her eyelids flutter when my thumb grazes along her cheek, trailing down her neck.

“I’ll settle for being the love of your life,” I answer. Her breath hitches, and I give her a cheeky grin. But my pulse begins to thump at the base of my neck as I swallow nervously. I’ve never hinted at wanting this before, but I want everything with this woman.

If she’s giving, I’m taking.

“And maybe one day, I can be your husband.”

I study her reaction closely, hoping that it’s not too soon to voice that desire out loud. I don’t want to push her or make her feel overwhelmed. It’s not like I forgot that she just got out of a relationship with my brother before jumping directly into this one, so I’m willing to do things on her timeline. Even if part of me wishes for confirmation of where this is headed.

I nearly fall over with relief, elation coursing through me, when her face splits into a wide grin. She tries to play it cool, nodding as she pretends to contemplate my words.

“Maddison Parker has a nice ring to it. I think I’m down for that.”

I can’t help the whoosh of relief that leaves my lungs as I smile down at her, feeling like I’m about to overflow with happiness. I wonder how goofy my face must look right now. Reaching forward, I clasp her hand in mine and bring it to my lips. Keeping eye contact, I kiss the back of her hand before brushing my lips over the surgical scar on her wrist. Her eyes soften.

“Move in with me,” I say. Although we’ve been together—in the open—for two months now, she didn’t want to move back in with me right away. I had been disappointed at the time, but I understood. Instead, she rented out the empty warehouse downtown to start her own business. The top floor is currently her apartment. She wanted some time on her own two feet first, and I think she was nervous about any possible tension between Luke and me.

But Luke, surprisingly, did not move back in. He got his old job back in Crestwood Heights, and I’m not sure where he’s living now. For some reason, he won’t tell us. But he’s coming around more, and although I think he’s still coming to terms with the way things went down between the three of us, he’s been opening up more as well. We’ve been going fishing every Sunday, and last week, he even agreed to have lunch with us.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” I continue, pressing another kiss to her wrist, this time gently nipping at her soft skin. I wink at her, and her thighs clench together.

“Sir, I am not sure what kind of harlot you think I am…” Her playful tone turns breathy once more as I reach forward with my free hand to slide it up her inner thigh. Her legs widen ever so slightly. “Shit,” she whispers, dropping the charade as her eyes snap to mine. The look of pure, filthy desire has my cock hardening. I discreetly adjust myself, but of course she notices. She bites her bottom lip, and my dark groan is a warning.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” I allow the controlled dominance to seep into my gravelly tone, letting it serve as a promise to all sorts of sensuous activities to come. No matter what her answer is, I fully plan on dragging her out of here and licking her pussy until she’s screaming my name. But first, I want my answer.

“I need more drawer space,” she demands, the cheeky opportunist.

“Done.” My reply is immediate, and I don’t care if it makes me look eager. She can have all the drawers, and all the closet space if she wants it. I’ll happily throw my own clothes out the window if I get her in return.

Her answering smile lights up my insides. “Okay then, roomie.”

I give her a dark look, growling at her use of the wordroomie. “Don’t call me that.”

I don’t catch the mischievous tilt of her lips until it’s too late. “It’s just an expression. What do you want me to call you?” She gives a playful roll of her eyes. “Actually, never mind, I probably don’t want to know. I’m not calling you Daddy Sex God or anything ridiculous.”

I bark out a laugh, knowing but not giving a single fuck that every man in this bar would probably think I’m pussy-whipped if they knew what my answer was.

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