Page 96 of Enticing the Enforcer
She nods, slow and earnest. I mean more than the words. Madison needs help. She needs boundaries, therapy, a team that isn’t run entirely through her own fear of being invisible. But that’s not the same as tossing her aside. Professionally, I have access. I can get her the help she needs and keep her close while putting rules in place. Personally, we’ll have to rebuild trust.
I stand, slipping my bag over my shoulder. “Jefferson told me you helped him last night, that you got Marv to stand down.”
She looks startled. “I felt like it was what you would’ve wanted me to do.”
“I appreciate that.” I mean it. “He does too.”
She searches my face. “So you’re back together?”
“We are.” I grin, feeling the truth in my chest like heat. “He’s important to me. I love him. If you want us to be friends and work together in the future, you’re going to have to accept that.”
Madison’s mouth flattens for a second, then she nods, quicker this time. “I can. Ido. This was never about Jefferson.”
Her words are earnest; I believe her. It doesn’t erase everything, but it’s a start.
I step toward her and, impulsively, pull her into a hug. She stiffens, then melts, and for a breath we’re not boss and assistant, not the pop star and the fixer–just two peoplewho’ve been splintered and are trying to stitch themselves back together.
When I pull away, the late morning light slants across her kitchen table. “Tomorrow,” I say, “we’ll make a plan–therapy, PR guidelines, a clear line you don’t cross.”
Madison swallows. “Thank you. For not throwing me away.”
“We’ve been friends for a long time, Mads. I’d never throw you away.”
She watches me head for the door, a mix of relief and guilt in her face. I close the car door, breathe in the warm air, and drive home feeling raw and tired and, for the first time in weeks, like I’m steering my own life again.
30
Jefferson
The door clicksopen and I glance up, heart already lighter just seeing her silhouette in the doorway. Ingrid slips inside, quiet as ever, and kicks off her shoes by the dresser. They tumble over each other, a careless little heap that makes me smile because she’s here, not on a stage, not on the road, but here with me.
She crosses the room in one of those sexy little tennis skirts that show off her legs and a crop top. Without hesitation she crawls back under the covers, sliding into my side like she belongs there. Which she does. My arm goes around her automatically, like my body has been waiting for her weight against me.
“Thought maybe you’d be up by now,” she says, pressing her ass into the curve of my body. My dick twitches in appreciation.
“I thought if I stayed in bed, maybe there’d be a shot you’d get back in.”
“Smart boy.”
"How did it go?" I ask, my voice low, not wanting to break the spell of this moment.
"Okay, I think." She nuzzles into my chest, her hair tickling my chin. "I hope so. I think maybe having some space will be good for us."
I kiss her temple, breathing her in. I didn’t realize how much I needed the quiet of her, how good it feels to have her pressed close without the roar of a crowd or the pressure of a game between us. "I spent the last four years spending just about twenty-four-seven with three roommates. We lived together, played together, traveled together, partied together… things changed when they started dating someone seriously. Everyone was happier, well, almost everyone."
Her head tilts back so she can look at me. "You weren’t happier?"
I run my thumb along her shoulder, tracing lazy circles on her skin. "At the time it felt like I was losing something, my wingmen, I guess, but looking back? They weren’t leaving me behind. They were just…growing up. Moving forward. I guess I didn’t realize I wanted that too, until you."
Her lips curve, soft and knowing. "So, what are you saying?
I tug her until she’s on top of me, legs straddled over my hips. She’s a goddess and I’m the fucking luckiest man in the world. “You’re it, Angel.”
Her hand rests over my chest, right above my heart, and I know she feels how hard it’s beating. "Good," she whispers. "Because you’re it for me too. Even when it’s messy. Even when I’m on the road and you’re playing halfway across the country."
"We’ll figure it out," I say, certain in a way I’ve never been about anything. "Calls. Flights. Off-season trips. Hell, I’ll even learn how to live out of one of those sparkly suitcases of yours if it means being with you."
She laughs, quiet but genuine, and kisses me slowly. When she pulls back, she doesn’t move far, her forehead resting against mine. "That sounds like a plan."
