Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
His gaze lifted to meet mine. “Maybe. After losing my parents, the difference between what’s real and what’s just for show became very clear. Connections matter. Time with loved ones. Everything else is just…” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Fluff,” I finished for him.
“Your word, not mine,” he said, but a slight smile curved his lips.
“Not all manufactured moments are meaningless, you know.” I leaned forward slightly until our knees were almost touching. “Sometimes they’re just… opportunities. Creating the right conditions for real things to happen.”
Like this, I thought but didn’t say. Us, here, now.
The fire popped loudly, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Outside, the wind howled, a counterpoint to the silence stretching between us.
“Yesterday,” Maddox said suddenly, his voice low. “At the tree farm…”
My heart stuttered in my chest. “When you saved me from certain death by Christmas tree?”
“A bump on the head, maybe,” he said with an eye roll but then grew serious again. “After, though. When we were in the snow…”
I swallowed, setting my glass down carefully. “Yeah?”
“Would you have…” He paused, seeming to search for words, which was unusual for someone usually so direct. “If I hadn’t…”
Despite his incomplete question, I knew exactly what he was getting at. Would I have kissed him if he hadn’t pulled away? If the cold hadn’t interrupted us?
“Fuck yes,” I said, the truth easier in firelight than it would have been in daylight. “Would you have let me?”
Maddox’s eyes darkened, the gray shifting to something deeper. He set his glass down and shifted slightly closer on the sofa. “I’m still trying to figure that out,” he admitted.
“Anything I can do to help you with the figuring?” I murmured, hardly daring to breathe.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “You could stop looking at me like that, for starters.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re imagining what I taste like.”
“What if I am, though?” I challenged softly. “Not looking at you this way would be the opposite of helpful, wouldn’t it? Inauthentic, really.”
He huffed. “Makes it damn hard to think straight.”
I licked my lips thoughtfully. “Maybe. But consider whether more thinking is really what you need.”
Maddox tilted his head. “You saying I’m overthinking?”
I moved a few inches closer. Close enough now that I could feel more body heat, see the slight tremor in his hands. “Your word,” I teased, throwing back his comment. “Not mine.”
“Shut up, Hayes,” he murmured, but there was no heat in it.
I sucked in a breath and held it. “Make me.”
Maddox hesitated, conflict visible in his expression, and his eyes searched mine.
Apparently, he found what he was looking for.
A heartbeat later, he closed the distance between us, one hand came up to curve around the back of my neck, and his lips found mine.
The first touch was hesitant, almost questioning. His lips were softer than I’d imagined, warm and slightly chapped. When I responded, leaning into him with a small sound of approval, the kiss deepened, becoming something hungry and certain. His mouth was warm from the whiskey, his hand firm against my skin.
His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling slightly as he angled my head for better access. I gripped his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his flannel shirt, anchoring myself as the world went sideways.
I’d kissed plenty of men in my lifetime, but something about this felt different—as if we’d been building to this moment since our first meeting in the hardware store. All the banter, the tension, the resistance—it had led here, to this confluence of fire and snow and touch.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, Maddox’s eyes were wide and glazed. But just when I worried he might go back to overthinking, he lunged at me, kissing me more deeply this time. His weight pressed me back into the sofa cushions, one hand caressing my jaw while the other gripped my hip. The kiss was desperate, almost angry, like he was trying to prove something to himself or me.
I held him tighter, daring him to pull away. My fingers found the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to touch warm skin. Maddox groaned into my mouth, and the sound vibrated through me, making me arch even closer.
The storm raged, piling snow against the windows, sealing us in our private world of firelight and heat. And I didn’t waste a second thinking about angles or lighting or hashtags. I was simply present, every sense attuned to the man clutching me like I was something surprising and necessary.
There was no doubt in my mind Maddox would second-guess this later and go right back to overthinking, but I’d be damned if I didn’t take as much of him as I could before he threw cold water on a fire this hot.
#SullivanSurrender #ProductPlacement #CityBoyMakeFire #FuckingFinallyWithTheLips #AThousandFanningWomen
10
#THESTORMINSIDE
MADDOX
The storm howled outside like a living thing while something equally fierce raged inside me. Adrian’s lips were insistent against mine, his body warm and solid beneath my hands as I pressed him deeper into the sofa cushions.