Chapter 23

Adelaide

I wake to Axton’s heat at my back and slow circles being traced on my exposed stomach.

“Good morning,” I mutter, scooting my butt and back closer to him, loving the warmth of his skin.

“The best,” he answers with a kiss to my shoulder.

“We should get up.” I say the words even though I don’t mean them.

“I could stay like this forever,” he says, as if reading my mind.

I turn my head into the pillow and smile, happy but unsure of what’s expected of me this morning.

“I’m sure you have things to do today.” I’m not looking for an invitation to stay a while, but I won’t turn one down either.

“Do you?”

I shake my head. “But school starts tomorrow.”

Thunder reverberates the window, startling me. His arms hold me even tighter as a lump forms in my throat.

“Storm’s coming. You’ll be safer here.”

“I’m not ready to face the inquisition I know my sisters are gearing up for anyway.”

Heck, I’m not ready to face all the questions bouncing around in my own head. Last night was wonderful, then he ended our fabulous make out session by calling me “baby,” reminding me, as if I could ever forget, exactly who he is.

No matter how it ended, I can’t regret it. I wanted every second, and honestly, even if I knew he’d pop off with that unoriginal, generic pet name, I still wouldn’t change how things progressed. Besides, he’s not the same guy, right? The guy I met on the side of the road, the one who offered his harmonica at the party, would’ve taken everything I willingly offered last night.

But he turned me down, and for some reason, that niggles at me.

“What is it?” he asks into my hair. “Why did you just go stiff as a board?”

“Last night,” I begin, but gasp when he shifts and pushes me to my back.

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t tell me you wish it never happened. Don’t tell me you regret it.”

I look away from him, and his forehead meets the crook of my neck.

“Addi, fuck,” he hisses. “I never should’ve taken it that far.”

I can’t stop the laugh that flows from my mouth. “You? Here I am worried you didn’t want me.”

“I always want you.” He rolls his hips, pressing his erection into me. “Even now when I thought you were upset, I want you. I just knew you weren’t ready. I’m afraid when you walk out and go home, you’ll overthink it and hate me for what we did.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “But I still need you to kiss me right now just in case.”

He obliges, running his hand down my side, over my hip, and along the length of my thigh, prompting me to lift my leg. I wrap it around his waist, flexing to pull him closer, and groan when his hips rotate and grind.

My eyes roll up as he grips my butt and angles my body. The expert roll of his hips nearly makes me lose my mind.

“Ah!” His fingers dig into my naked flesh, the touch of him against my fevered skin almost too much.

“I’ve got the best news!”

I squeal like a maniac as his bedroom door flies open and bangs against the wall.

Burying my head into his shoulder, I whisper, “He can see my butt.”

Axton laughs against me, but a second later, the covers that had fallen off during our grinding are pulled over my exposed leg.

“Can I help you?” Axton mutters to his friend standing in the doorway.

“What the hell?” his friend hisses.

“What do you want, Carson?” Axton asks, sounding even more annoyed.

“You have a chick in your room,” Carson continues, undeterred. “You don’t even let me come in here.”

I smile against Axton’s shoulder again.

“Get out,” Axton says.

“I need to talk to you,” Carson replies. “It’s a big deal, Ax. Now,” he commands. “I’m on my way to my parents. We need to speak before I leave.”

Axton stiffens, but his voice comes out calmer than I expect. “I’m busy.”

“I can go,” I tell him.

“No,” he says back to me. “I want you to stay.”

“Okay,” I tell him.

“I’ll call you when Addi goes home, Carson.”

“Addi?” I hear the shock in Carson’s voice.

“Go, Carson,” Axton urges.

“Fine, man. It’s not like you didn’t just create a shit ton more work for me anyway.” The door snaps shut.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“Which part? The news he needs to share? I have no clue.”

“No.” I pull my head out of his chest now that we’re alone again. “The more work. I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with me. He doesn’t want me here, does he?”

“I’m different around you,” he admits, shifting his weight so he’s lying beside me. “You’re different from anyone I’ve ever…” he trails off, looking for the right words, but I know what he’s trying to say. I find his hand at his hip and give it a squeeze.

“He’s afraid things will go badly for me if I hurt you,” he begins. “Breaking the heart of a girl is bad enough, but throw in the fact that your dad is a pastor...”

“So, he feels like he has to start damage control already?”

“I guess,” he mutters, then climbs out of the bed. “I don’t have any intentions of that, though.”

I’m too busy staring at the toned expanse of his back and the way his boxer briefs hug the defined muscles of his butt to fully understand what he means.

“You know that, right?”

“Huh?” As if the backside isn’t torture enough, he turns, and all my attention moves to his leanly muscled thighs and trim waist. Well, almost all of it. I’m trying my best not to look at the straining front of his boxers.”

“Addi,” he says, as if it’s not the first time.

My eyes raise to his. Humor sparkles in the hazel orbs as he chuckles.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper.

“I can easily say the same about you. But that’s not what I want to talk about.” I swallow, trying to keep eye contact though his constricting ab muscles fight for attention as he leans over the bed. “I don’t have any intentions of hurting you.”

My eyes wander again, this time not even bothering to avoid his crotch. “I think that’s going to be unavoidable.”

I’m certain he doesn’t catch the double entendre because he cups my chin and forces me to look in his eyes.

“You’re important to me.” I smile at him, but it doesn’t last long because he presses his lips against mine.

“Damn it,” Axton cusses an hour later after separate showers and a couple cups of coffee.

“Carson keeps calling?” My brow furrows with the repeated interruptions.

He nods, grabbing his phone and powering it down. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” I tease, and he reaches behind his back and tosses a pillow in my direction.

Catching it, I clutch it to my chest. “Why do two bachelors have throw pillows?”

“Because Carson’s mother decorated the house after she came to visit the first time and the place was almost as sparse as the day we moved in.”

“You didn’t have furniture?”

He shrugs, looking down at the guitar in his lap while toying with a new song he’s been working on. “We had beds and a kitchen table and chairs. We didn’t need much else.”

“Hmmm,” is my noncommittal response.

“Addi,” he prompts, and I look up from playing with the fringe of the pillow he just tossed.

“We don’t entertain here.” I nod, because what am I supposed to do? Open my mouth and take the chance of the million questions I want to ask escaping? “I’ve rarely had a chick here.”

I frown. So much for the exclusive privilege I’d let myself believe I had.

“But Carson was right, no one other than him, less than a handful of times, has been inside my room.”

“I only ended up in there because I insisted on it. You were too turned on to think.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Every woman I’ve brought here has asked to go to my room.” His eyes widen. “Fuck. That’s not—”

“The truth? You can tell me the truth,” I tell him.

I just wish he wouldn’t offer up extra information unless I ask for it.

“I just want you to know you’re special to me.”

“Thank you.” I give him a weak smile.

Knowing his history and having it shoved in my face, first at the bookstore and now from his own mouth, are two different things. I do my best to lock down my emotions, ignoring the ones telling me to run while giving no credit to the urge to get closer. I’m in a torturous limbo, knowing how badly this is going to end but having absolutely no power to stop it.

“I like that,” I tell him as his fingers move over the guitar and a sweet melody comes out. “Is it new?”

I don’t tell him I’ve avoided any and all social media so I don’t run the risk of seeing a post about him and his exploits.

“Yeah,” he answers with a grin. “Literally just started playing it today.”

“Any words to go with it?”

His eyes turn back down to watch his fingers. “Three,” he whispers.

My pulse pounds in my ears and the palms of my hands grow slick. There’s no way he’s—

“Adelaide Rose Hatfield,” he croons, looking up at me with a wicked grin on his face.

I huff a humorless laugh. The atmosphere around us thickens, changing into something less sweet, less in sync with each other. I’m pushing him away already, but it’s the only way I can protect myself.

You’re special to me.

I could stay like this forever.

No other woman has been inside my room.

All of those spoken in truth from his perfect mouth, but not once has he said anything about me being with him, beside him, a full-time part of his life. We haven’t mentioned the future or even talked about the things that hurt us in the past. No conversation of corrective behaviors or expectations moving forward.

I’ve let myself imagine it, allowed myself to dream about the possibility of an us, but I’m only fooling myself. He’s danger and heartbreak. Even though he may have no intention of hurting me, I already know it’s coming. And I have a feeling it’ll be sooner rather than later.