Page 75 of The Meaning Of You

“Yep.” He looked so fucking smug that I wanted to kiss him. “I only transcribed a couple of lines. I didn’t want you to miss out. They’re names, Nick, like we thought. But I don’t recognise them. And I left a copy of all of this in the studio in case the police want these.”

I blinked. “The police?”

He eyeballed me. “If we’re right about this, we’re going to have to tell them, you know that. Samuel won’t want to keep this to himself. He can’t. But if we finish transcribing the rest, then maybe we’ll know more about what we’re dealing with. It’s a start, right? And so far, it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Davis.”

I stared at him, gobsmacked. It was more than a fucking start. For the first time since I’d found that damn receipt, I felt... hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. Like I’d been given my faith back. In Davis. In the life we’d shared. In who we were. And that meant every fucking thing in the world.

I sprang to my feet and pulled a surprised Madigan into my arms. “You brilliant fucking man.”

He stiffened against me, awkward in my embrace. And maybe I should’ve let go. Maybe I should’ve respected someboundaries for once. But I didn’t. I pulled him tight against me, arms wrapped around his body, holding, holding, until those lean muscles relaxed and his hands slid effortlessly around my back.

Until he hugged me back and the world felt so fucking right.

I buried my face in his neck and whispered, “I knew coming here was the right thing to do. I would never have found that code in a million years.” It was the perfect time to let him go, but I couldn’t seem to loosen my hold. Neither did he. His body firm against mine, his palms smoothing their way up and down my spine, every inch a jolt of electricity to my dull flesh. A reminder there was life in me yet.

“Just pleased I could help,” he said in a thin voice, his head finding my shoulder, his breath hot against my neck. In and out, in and out, shallow gulps of air that mirrored my own and said everything we couldn’t. We fit together like we were made to. Sharp angles and soft curves learning to mesh and ride the other. He felt good in my arms. Too good. So fucking good.

I couldn’t get my heart around it—which emotion belonged where. How it was possible to feel anything for someone else through the tide of grief still working its way through my soul. Anything without drowning in guilt for the only man I’d ever loved. No one else would ever come close. That wasn’t how it worked. Mads couldn’t mean more than friendship, or else what did that say about me? About my loyalty. About the love I’d shared.

Panic bloomed in my chest along with a warning.

Let go.

Step away.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

But I didn’t.

With my arms still around Mads’ waist, I leaned back and waited for him to do the same. He lifted his head and turnedslowly to face me, his gaze flitting on and off mine, hesitant and unsure. Questions, questions, questions. Like he was reading my mind.

He wriggled a hand up between us, then ran his finger along the length of my jaw where I’d been hit. “Impressive bruise you’ve got there, Mister Fisher. Does it hurt?”

“Only when I laugh.” I cradled his face, my thumbs tracing the sharp line of his cheekbones, grazing the web of wrinkles at the corners of those green, green eyes. “Kind of a mundane question, considering the situation we find ourselves in, don’t you think?”

Madigan’s eyes danced but there was uncertainty there too. So much uncertainty. I ran my fingertip over his mouth, revelling in the warm swell of his lips. Then I cupped his jaw, that thick stubble lying rough against my palm and sending heat pooling in my groin.

His gaze steadied on mine and the world beyond began to drift away. The exhaustion. The worry. The questions. The fear. All lost to this man. I tried one last time. “Tell me to stop.”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at Mads’ mouth. “Do you want me to tell you that?”

Oh god.I almost laughed.Do I want you to?Yes. And absolutely fucking no. I thought of Davis. I thought of my promise to myself that I wouldn’t hurt this man. And still, I couldn’t get the word out. Instead, I gave a tiny shake of my head.

Mads’ expression softened and his long, lean body pressed against mine, the heat of the connection sending shockwaves through my heart. Then he angled his head slightly and said, “Then no, I won’t stop you.”

A thrill rushed through my body like a cascade of anticipation, every nerve jangling, sparking, waiting, waiting, waiting.

I put my lips beside Mads’ ear and whispered, “Bastard.” I cupped his face and looked into those beautiful eyes once more. Then I slowly, slowly pressed my mouth to his, feeling him smile for just a second before his lips parted and I licked my way inside.

He tasted of coffee and sleep and something that felt a lot like hope. The questions I’d ached over, the doubts and the guilt, all fading into a single kiss.

The mysterious world of Madigan Church was mine for the taking.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Madigan

Idiot.Idiot. Idiot.

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