Page 21 of Worthy

I’m not used to people looking at me that way. Sometimes Ally does, like when I said I’d help her with her bike, but that’s only because I said I’d do her a favor. Most everyone else who looks at me does it with lust in their eyes.

For years, I enjoyed the hell out of those looks. I’d see them and my dick would twitch, knowing it was about to have some fun. It didn’t matter that the one and only thing tourists saw in me was someone to play with during their vacay since I saw the same thing in them.

Truth be told, I considered myself lucky, because I thought those lusty glances were the best way a person could look at you. The raw need in a heated stare has made me feel alive more times than I care to admit. At least it did until the first time Maddox looked at me withrespect, and damn if that didn’t make those looks of desire feel kind of empty.

I never thought I’d say something somature, but there it is. It just doesn’t have the same effect that it used to.

The other night I saw a woman across the room watching me, and nothing happened. My dick didn’t even twitch. She was hot, exactly the type of woman I’d usually consider an easy lay, and I didn’t want any part of it. I feigned food poisoning and left early, wondering what was wrong with me.

It makes sense now, because a few minutes ago, when Madd looked at me like I was his hero, I felt something. Not a twitch exactly, butsomething. I liked it. My dick liked it. I kind of want to feel it again, which is why I’m hiding in the kitchen, cooking boxed pizza like a good little boy. A selfish, bastard, but a good little boy… with pizza.

“Did you find it?” Maddox calls.

“Yeah,” I reply as I open the fridge, looking for something to use as an excuse for hiding out in here. Lettuce. Some vegetables. Perfect. “I thought I’d make a salad to go with it. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” he answers.

I get busy chopping things up, which keeps my mind off my weird feelings and my unexplainable dick twitches—sort of.It’s a mindless task, but the fact I’m doing it at all feels strange because I’ve never made a meal for a man before. Or a woman for that matter. I’ve never wanted to.

When everything’s ready, I make him a plate and carry it into the living room. I get him set up with the food on his lap, then take my seat on the couch. I’m still aware of how close we are, but at least the meal is a distraction.

“Thanks for cooking,” Maddox says when he’s done, reaching toward the coffee table with his plate. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

I take it from him, so he doesn’t have to reach too far. “Tell me if you need something. I don’t want you to move any more than you have to, okay?”

“I’m not helpless.” There’s an almost defensive tone to his voice.

“Never said you were.”

“It doesn’t even hurt that bad. It’s more uncomfortable than painful. I can probably walk on it.”

“Probably,” I agree, since he’d be in a lot more pain if he’d done significant damage. “But why would you if you don’t have to? Might as well use me for whatever you need since I’m here.”

“You can’t help with what I need.” He braces his hands on the couch like he’s going to push off it, but I stop him with a palm to the chest.

“Seriously, Madd. Whatever it is, let me help.”

“Madd?” He arches a thick brow, causing me to realize my mistake.

“I uh…” I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. “I’ve sort of been calling you that in my head, since you usually seem to be mad at me. Or annoyed.”

He fights the lip that wants to curl upward. “Well, I guess it’s better than Solo. But seriously—” he pushes off again “—you can’t help with this.”

“What are you doing?” I pop off the couch, arms splayed in case I need to catch him.

“Taking a piss.”

Well fuck, he’s got me there.

Once standing, Maddox rests his bad foot on the ground for balance and hops forward with the good one in a limp that’s so awkward it’s painful towatch. My arms, acting on autopilot, reach out to help, only he does it again, hopping just out of reach.

Is he making progress?

Sorta.

Is it pretty?

Hell no.

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