Page 52 of The Renegade Billionaire
“Thanks,” I say. “Madison? You ready?”
She nods. “Cian, can you get the girls home safely?”
He gives her a two-finger salute as if he isn’t sitting on top of a pissed-off donkey.
He and I should get along just fine.
12
MADISON
The bagof ice is freezing my fingers, but I don’t put it down when Braxton slides into the truck.
His massive thigh presses against mine because I’m sitting in the middle again, straddling the gearshift, even though there’s plenty of space.
I still don’t move.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks at the same time I say, “Are you okay?”
He turns his body a fraction of an inch, pressing closer into my side, and butterflies take flight in my belly. How does he do that? Just suck all the tension from my body with an innocent touch.
Even in the dark, his jaw seems swollen. Leaning into him, I press the bag of ice to his skin and hold it there. He hisses on contact.
“You can tell me if it hurts, you know? I won’t think any less of you. The jerk sucker punched you when you were…when you were…”
“Getting you out of harm’s way, which is exactly what he should’ve been thinking about too.”
“I was never his priority,” I admit quietly, readjusting the bag of ice on his face. “Not when it mattered. I’m certain he’s so drunk tonight that he had no idea how close he was to me, but I honestly don’t think even if he’d been sober, I would’ve factored into his train of thought. For him, it isn’t even about winning, it’s about not coming in last.”
His hand snakes around my wrist, and my pulse hammers beneath my skin.
I swallow hard before lifting my gaze to his. He’s staring down through thick lashes I’d die for, but there’s a storm brewing behind his eyes, and a pull ignites between us that’s explosive and exciting.
“You’re not an object to lose, Madison. And if he thinks you’re a game, then he’s a fucking idiot. You should have always been his first, last, and only priority.” Braxton’s voice rumbles in the silence of the truck. It bounces off metal and glass, reverberating through my body and heating my core.
“I don’t need saving, Braxton.”
Painfully slowly, he tilts his head, pressing more firmly into my hand. Our gazes are fused together, each of us locked onto the other, and I know I have zero chance of breaking our connection first.
“No, Madison. You’re a strong, independent, incredibly amazing woman. You don’t need saving—you need to be savored. There’s a difference.”
A full-body tremble starts at my neck and works down my body. Savoring? Holy hell, now I can’t stop imagining what being savored entails.
Braxton takes the bag of ice from my hand and tosses it to the floor of the passenger side, then presses my palm to his face in its place. It keeps us close enough to share air.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks again.
I purse my lips tight, too afraid that if I speak, if I open up to him now, I’ll never be able to stop.
“I don’t know what’s happening here,” I whisper.
His lips part as though he’s tasting my words, and a flame of desire spreads faster than wildfire through my veins.
He blinks, and his lips curl up at the corners. Lips I want to lick.
“I don’t know anything about you.” My words barely touch the air. “Not really. Nothing important, but I feel like—like…”
“Like you’ve known me for years?” He lifts a brow while he waits for a response.
