Page 68 of These Jagged Edges

I giggle as Maddox stomps his way down the steps. That damn girl is always up to no good. Maddox sets me on my feet as he fishes a single key out of his pocket. A. Single. Damn. Key.

"Well, damn Big Guy. You didn't have to do that because of me." Maddox falters for a brief second before unlocking the doorand tucking me in the car. He buckles me in, checking everything before getting in on his side and doing the same.

"Whose car is this?"

"Mine." That single word steals my breath. Even in my drunken stupor, I grasp the weight of this moment: a man who has refused to even sit behind the wheel after that terrible accident drove here because of me.

Maddox starts the engine but remains still as a statue at the wheel. I run a drunken hand through his hair, and he softens just a bit. Once we finally get on the road, I notice him relax even more.

"Care to explain why Trip Waller had you by the throat back there?" he says in a clipped tone.

"You mean you forgot to ask that before snapping his arm like a damn twig?"

"Evie."

“How do you know he wasn't showing me some new hold or something? You may have just broken that man's arm for nothing."

We both know that’s complete bullshit, but I can’t help the sassy remark. Anyone else would be terrified at the thought of him breaking someone’s arm as easily as reading the morning mail, but not me. I understand that the man beside me revels in violence in a way that’s both captivating and intricate. And despite that, I know I’m safest with him.

His jaw clenches, his eyes fixed intently on the road. "Are you trying to be fucking funny?"

"Nope. Just sayin' is all." I shrug, tugging on the frayed end of my shorts.

"Mhm."

I don't know why, but I want to push him to his breaking point. I want to make him snap. Who’s Maddox without all his coveted control? Is he as deranged and as dark as I think he is underneath all that self-control? How far can I poke the growly bear?

"Said I owed him a taste, since I’ve been teasing him for two years."

He hums in response, the low, throaty sound vibrating through the air. I find myself savoring the rich timbre of his voice, each note sending a thrill through me.

Swallowing, I push on, "But I told him he can’t have a taste of this fat shaved pussy because it isn’t his.” Sober Evie would never be able to say that with a straight face, but the alcohol is giving me confidence tonight.

Maddox doesn’t seem to have a reaction, so I decide to poke him just a bit further.

"Maybe when my friend and I get done toying around..." I say cautiously, twirling a lock of hair around my finger.

"Evie, baby.."

"Hmm?"

"Shut the fuck up." The way he announces each syllable tells memaybeI poked a bit too far with that last one. "When we pull up to the house you have a ten-second head start, and that's me being very fucking gracious." His eyes remain fixed on the road ahead.

"Head start for what?"

"For me, baby. Because once I catch you, that ass is mine. I'm going to finally fuck that goddamn word out of you," he says menacingly and I know without a doubt I indeed pushed him a bit too far.

"Jesus Christ."

The car comes to a stop, and I realize I'm a withering mess. Maddox unbuckles me slowly, then himself. He rolls his neck a couple of times, a hint of tension easing away before he turns towards me. His gaze is pure predatory, sharp and intense. "One, two—" he begins counting.

I’ve never moved so damn fast in my life. Hurrying into his house, I scavenge for a place to hide. Casting my shoes aside I opt for a nonobvious spot, sinking on the other side of his kitchenisland so I can maneuver around as he moves around the house and bide my drunk ass some time.

Listening, I hear the backdoor open and close, then his heavy footfalls lead into the back of the house. I wait until he makes his way slowly into the living room before slowly crawling to the other side of the island. As he searches around, I figure I'll wait until he circles around and heads back before sneaking between the couch and the wall. I mean hell, he's already looked there, so it should be fair game.

I listen and wait, and when he heads towards the back of the house, I make my move. Just as I wedge in a hand grasps my ankle. Screaming I bail and run for the kitchen. From opposite sides of the island, we stare at each other panting. Don't get me wrong, I’m not scared of the man per se, but my vagina knows she’s in for a beating.

"Truce?" I offer as sweetly as possible.

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