Текст книги "Addicted to Sin"

Автор книги: Monica James

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

18

Food for Thought

DIXON

“Good morning, Dr. Mathews,” Susanna says as I barge through the door, my rain-soaked coat making a mess on the cream carpet.

“Ms. Vale.” I run a hand through my wet locks.

“Oh, you should have called. I would have met you downstairs with an umbrella,” she says, quickly standing up and handing me a box of tissues.

“It’s June, for Christ’s sake! Why is it raining?” I gripe, accepting a few and wiping down my drenched face.

My briefcase is sopping wet and failed as a makeshift umbrella. “When will this blasted construction be over with?” I ask, brushing down the damp lapels of my gray suit jacket.

“It is New York. Once this one is finished, another will take its place soon enough,” she wisely says.

“You’re right. I just wish they’d hurry up so I can park my car in the garage I’m paying thousands for,” I snap.

Susanna nods with a smile. “Bad start to the week?”

If this were anyone other than her, I would be telling them to mind their damn business, but Susanna is practically family.

“You don’t want to know the half of it.”

“Go. I’ll get you a coffee,” she says, waving me toward my office.

My morning doesn’t get any better and by midday, I’m convinced I’ll murder my next patient. I’m barely refraining from banging my head on the desk when a soft knock sounds on the door.

“Come in,” I bellow, giving up on reading over my notes for my next appointment.

“Dr. Mathews, sorry to bother you,” Susanna says as she pops her head through my door.

“It’s fine. Come in.” I motion for her to enter.

“This just arrived,” she states. She holds a small, white box in her hand.

“Oh?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s it from?”

“I’m not sure. The courier said there were no sender details recorded.”

“How strange,” I reply, my curiosity piqued.

“I thought so, too.” She walks over to my desk and hands me the package.

Looking at the top and both sides, I still have no idea what could be inside this small box.

“If this is a severed ear, I’ll be extremely pissed,” I say, and Susanna laughs.

Unclasping the lid, I open it apprehensively and peer inside, while Susanna leans forward so she too can see what’s inside the box. The moment I see the slice of cheesecake, I know who the sender is.

But why?

“There’s an envelope,” she says in anticipation, no doubt wondering what the hell is going on.

Reaching for it, I open it up. Inside sits the same piece of paper I left for Madison. However, underneath my handwriting are the words: I saved you a piece—from one angel to another.

“Dr. Mathews, are you okay?” I remain mute, as the note in front of me has my full attention.

Why did she send this?

Sadly, Madison’s walls are paper thin, and I heard the majority of her conversation to David. There’s no doubt she’s into him, I mean, she said so herself. I just need to forget the fact she nearly kissed me, because her actions surely don’t match her words.

I couldn’t stomach a second longer of listening to her canoodling that lovesick fool, so I left. But I left her a note because I didn’t want to just bail yet again. I had no expectations, and yes, I could have chosen something else to write. But I thought this was better than the alternative of, “Your boyfriend is a parasitic dick.”

Eyeballing the cheesecake and note, I honestly don’t know what to do. I’m drowning in two women who are both toxic to my health for entirely different reasons, but toxic nonetheless.

Slamming the lid shut, I push the box away from me and place the folded letter into my pocket. Kicking the waste bin out from under my desk, I slide the box across my desk and am about to throw it in the trash when Susanna stops me.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asks, obviously confused by my distaste toward a harmless piece of cake.

I shake my head. “Nope. Would you like it?” I offer the box her way.

“Are you sure?”

“Knock yourself out,” I reply. Susanna happily takes the cake from my outstretched palm.

“Are you sure you don’t want it?” she questions, and I can’t help the dry chuckle which spills from my lips.

“That’s the problem, Ms. Vale,” I vaguely reply, no longer referring to the dessert.

Susanna looks puzzled by my ambiguous response, but she doesn’t push. She takes the box and makes her way toward the door. However, she suddenly stops, and with her hand poised on the handle, she raises the box above her head and says, “Food for thought, Dr. Mathews.”

She gently shuts the door behind her and I sigh, because she’s absolutely right.

The rest of the week is no better than the start, and come Saturday afternoon, I’m dying for some S&S—scotch and sex.

Juliet has been MIA all week, and after my blow-off last weekend, I really shouldn’t be expecting anything less. But having easy, freaky sex on tap for the past three months really spoils a man, and my hormones are in overdrive.

I guess I could call Juliet, but I feel we’re both on the same page and realized we’re nothing more than fuck buddies who got a little carried away with a Disney HEA.

But now I’m stuck. Do I go out and look for someone to burn some of this pent-up sexual frustration with? Or do I just call Juliet? She ticks all the right boxes sexually, and she’s familiar and uncomplicated, but for some unknown reason, I can’t seem to make the call.

As I pass a jogger, I know the reason is because of Madison. I can’t get that damn image of us almost kissing out of my head, and the more I try to forget it, the more lucid it becomes. I haven’t heard a peep from her after she sent the cheesecake, and I’ve purposely stayed away. I need to clear my head of both women, and to do that, I need to get laid.

Reaching for my cell from my jacket pocket, I quickly dial Hunter, who answers on the second ring.

“S and S?” he asks, and I hum in agreement.

“Let the games begin.”

Sadly Finch hasn’t joined us, so it’s only Hunter and me, which is never a good combination when we’re both horny and drunk. However, I’m designated driver, so I’m only one of the two, but it’s still enough to have me seeing double.

Hunter has dragged me to Cherry Pop, the club where I saw Madison looking like a total goddess on the dance floor.

Although I wish he’d chosen somewhere a little quieter, I can see why he selected this venue. The girls are barely clothed and barely legal, and with the amount of cheap alcohol flowing through their veins, I know this will be an early night.

Hunter seems to also be on the prowl, and our joined bachelorhood must be a magnet, because I already have five random phone numbers in my pocket, two of which I have no idea how they ended up in there.

“So, what do you feel like? Brunette? Blonde? Redhead?” Hunter asks, bowed over the railing, looking at the dancing prey below.

“I’m not sure.” I also peer out into the sea of gyrating bodies.

“I’m thinking redhead, myself,” Hunter says, rubbing his hands together sinisterly.

I chuckle, and when I glance at him, I figure now is a good time to ask what’s been bugging him, as he’s drunk and usually all for the sharing.

“You okay, man?” I ask. “You’ve been acting weird. Well, weirder,” I correct with a smirk. “I’m detecting some hostility coming through when the opposite sex is involved.”

Hunter takes a quick sip of his beer and I know I’m onto something. But he shrugs it off, obviously not wanting to talk about his feelings.

I decide to press. “Want to talk about it?”

“Dude, I’m here to fuck, not to talk. So unless you wanna put out, quit it with the psychobabble. And besides,” he adds. “You’re drowning in pussy, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Understand what a lucky son of a bitch you are,” he plainly replies.

“Lucky? Please explain how,” I say, scratching my head because from where I stand, I’m far from lucky. I’m obsessing over one girl who is totally unattainable, while trying to wean myself off another.

Hunter reads my thoughts. “At least you have them coming back for more. What do I get? I’m lucky if I even catch their names. Am I ugly? You’d tell me, right?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

So this is what’s eating him. Could it be my friend, a bigger man-whore than me, is looking for a steady girlfriend? That’s got to be it. Problem is, he’s choosing the wrong women. I should know.

“Dude, you’re not ugly. If I swung that way, I’d totally bone you,” I say, slapping his shoulder playfully. “So you what, want to settle down?” I ask seriously, wanting to make sure my theory is right.

He shrugs, which in Hunter’s language means yes.

“Hunt?” I ask again, determined to get him to speak.

“I dunno, maybe!” he snaps, most likely annoyed with the twenty questions. “I just…they’re all so flaky. Are all women like that? If so, fuck that bullshit. I’ll stick to one-nighters,” he says, running a hand down his face.

“Maybe the problem is the women you find aren’t exactly ‘bring home to your mom’ kinda material,” I suggest, hoping I don’t appear judgmental. “And besides, the way you talk, walk, dress, act…Jesus, your entire being doesn’t reflect you’re looking to settle down.”

“Maybe my whoring tendencies are a cry for help?” he quickly suggests, and I don’t know whether he’s being serious or not.

Just as I’m about to address his statement, he cuts me off. “Let’s just get laid, already.” He pushes off the railing to look at me.

I know a brush-off when I see one, but I let it slide. He’s done talking, but at least I know what’s been bugging him.

This conversation, however, will have to be put on hold anyway, as a set of twins are headed our way. And yes, I mean girls, not boobs. And yes, they are identical.

“Punch me,” Hunter whispers from the side of his mouth.

“Are you fucking high?” I whisper back, puzzled by his randomness.

“I will be after I fuck twin one, or two. Either way, I don’t care which it is because I won’t be able to tell who’s who, because they are fucking twins,” he states, his excitement clearly evident by his shit-eating grin. “This isn’t a dream, right? Those two blonde bombshells are really headed our way.”

I roll my eyes and sip my beer. “Yes, you moron, they are real and they’re headed our way,” I reply, watching their fake tits barely wobble as they walk toward us.

“Punch me just in case,” he quickly says, but I refrain from the violence as both girls stop beside me.

“Hi, I’m Mandy, and this is Marisa,” Mandy says with a smile, her perfect teeth glowing under the fluorescents.

Before I have a chance to reply, Hunter steps forward and takes charge. “Hi, Mandy and Marisa. I’m Hunter, and this ugly bastard is Dixon,” he says, hooking his thumb my way.

I sarcastically smile at his charisma and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, ladies.”

The way Marisa is eye-fucking me and my hand, I know she would prefer me to put my hand someplace else. She’s attractive—I mean she’s blonde, big busted, and easy—but I’m suddenly craving a brunette.

Screaming at my subconscious to shut the hell up, I forget that a certain brunette exists and focus on getting laid.

“So, can we buy you girls a drink?” I ask, and both of them nod eagerly.

“We’d like that,” they say in unison, giggling.

Hunter looks like he’s just died and gone to heaven, and me, I feel like I’m in hell.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m regretting the fact I offered to drive. However, there’s no amount of scotch that could ever, ever, make what the titty twins are proposing be okay.

This is the third time Hunter has kicked me in the shin under the table, and if he does it again, I’ll take him up on his earlier suggestion and punch the living hell out of him.

Mandy, twin number one, who is older by two minutes, has not so discreetly hinted at us having a good ol’ fashioned gangbang. Hunter, no surprise, is all for the idea, but me, not so much—hence, the under table violence on his behalf.

Now, I’m no prude and I have engaged in a threesome or two in my time, but never a foursome with my best friend and two horny sisters. This is gross on all accounts, but more importantly, I’m not interested in seeing Hunter live out his Hugh Hefner dreams with these wannabe incestuous bunnies.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Mandy says, offering a hand to her sister. “We’re just going to visit the little girls’ room.” They both giggle, blowing us kisses before they leave.

The moment they’re gone, Hunter quickly reaches over the small table and flicks me in the junk.

“Ow! What the fuck?” I yelp, holding onto my nuts. “What the hell was that for?”

“Oh, I dunno, I just wanted to check if your balls were still intact and you didn’t grow a vagina overnight!” he replies in a huff.

“Jesus, calm down.” I chuckle, still protecting my family jewels. “They just referred to the restroom as the little girls’ room. Do you not see what’s wrong with this picture?” I ask, shuddering.

Hunter does not appreciate my humor, however, and replies, “The only thing that’s wrong around here is you being a big pussy. I will not let you ruin this for me,” he says, jabbing his finger into my chest. I swat his hand away. “This has been my dream since I found out what boobs and vaginas were capable of,” he reveals in all seriousness.

I can’t help but laugh at his melodramatics. “It’s your dream to catch chlamydia?” I playfully counter, and Hunter goes for another round on my nuts, obviously not seeing the funny side to VD.

“Stop hitting me in the dick,” I wheeze. “At this rate, I will have a vagina.”

“What’s up with you, Dix? You’d usually be all over this offer like a fat kid eating free cake. But now it looks as if these hot, frisky twins have just asked you to donate a kidney. You’re not into them?” he questions. I can see the confusion behind his green eyes.

He has every right to be confused. Hell, I’m confused, but this just feels wrong. Juliet’s offer of a random threesome didn’t sit well with me, and neither does the titty twins’ foursome suggestion. It just feels so sleazy and sad. Two thirty-two-year-old men contemplating having a foursome with a couple of horny twins is as seedy as it sounds.

“This is what we came here for, right?” Hunter affirms and I nod.

This is indeed why we’re scouting the dark corners, looking for a willing victim to help dull the loneliness for a night. But as fate had it, our “victims” have found us and they come willingly, offering more than we ever expected. But I’m just not feeling it. Both girls are becoming more and more unattractive by the minute, and I’m quite certain if I were to agree to this little proposition, I would be below par in the sack.

“Listen, I’m not stopping you from living out your Hugh Hefner fantasy, but me, I’m pulling out,” I state while Hunter scoffs.

“Yes, you could be pulling out…of Marisa, but you’ve gone soft. You don’t deserve a dick,” he says, but his smirk reveals he respects my decision. “Oh well, your loss, more for me,” he concludes with a detached shrug. His implication of wanting to settle down just got shot to hell.

Before I have time to reply, the girls return and Marisa practically ends up in my lap.

“So, we were thinking,” Mandy says, her freshly painted lips blinding me with their shininess, “you don’t really look too keen at the idea of us all playing together.”

I try not to scoff at how loosely the term is used.

Hunter looks at me over the table and mouths, “Pussy,” but I ignore him and listen to what Mandy has to say.

“But we really like you two, and we still wanted to…play,” she concludes with a grin.

I have no idea what “play” means, but my questions are answered when Marisa slides her hand into my lap and softly rubs over my crotch. I jolt in surprise, grabbing onto the edge of the table for support while Marisa looks at me shyly, her hand now firmly affixed to my cock. Hunter raises a confused brow, so I widen my eyes and lower them to my lap. Thankfully, Hunter gets my facial charades and smirks.

“So, did you wanna play with me?” Mandy huskily asks Hunter, while I’m getting a discreet hand job under the table.

“Abso-fucking-lutely, sweetheart.” He quickly stands, wasting no time as he yanks Mandy out of the booth. “Have fun, Dix,” he says with a wink. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Before I can get a word in edgewise, he’s dragging Mandy downstairs.

Now that leaves me alone with Marisa and my emerging hard-on. My dick is standing at half mast, but a few more gentle strokes and I’ll be at full salute. Her fingers are attentive and slow, and it’s exactly what I need.

As a duo, Mandy and Marisa are downright creepy with the whole finishing each other’s sentences and wanting to fuck the same men. But as a solo act, Marisa is totally doing it for me.

Closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the seat, I allow her total control, and she takes it by unzipping my jeans and walking her fingers into my crotch. I almost always go commando, and now is no exception, so she’s touching my heated flesh the moment she reaches inside. The way her fingers hungrily stroke me and the small hitch to her breath points to the fact she’s as turned on as me. Her grip becomes tighter, and as she increases the speed, my sex-starved body sings in relief as my release is waiting in the wings, anticipating the right move to set me off.

However, the here and now comes down around me, and my eyes pop open when I remember where I am. I’ve come in worse places before, but as glorious as this feels, I really don’t want to be caught out ejaculating in a very public place, where a ton of witnesses would be more than willing to recount my depravity to the New York Times.

Pulling my hips away slowly, I watch as Marisa turns to look at me, confusion reflected in her aroused blue eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asks, her plump mouth dipping into a frown.

Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear, “Let’s get out of here. When I come, it’s going to be inside of you. Not in some shitty bar.”

I pull back to gauge her reaction, and by her dilated pupils and quickened breaths, I know she’s all for the idea. Subtly adjusting myself and zipping up my jeans, I slide out of the booth and offer my hand to help Marisa rise.

I lead the way but don’t get very far, as the line to go downstairs is barely moving. Glancing overhead to see what the holdup is, I notice a couple of guys looking over the rail and pointing to something on the dance floor. Out of interest, I casually peer over the ledge, but I suddenly lunge forward to determine if what I’m seeing is actually happening. Marisa’s arm is linked through mine so I drag her with me, but I heed no attention to her complaints, because I’m about five seconds away from losing my shit.

“What is it, Dixon?” I vaguely hear Marisa ask, but I can’t even construct a reply as all my focus is on Madison, who is on the dance floor getting manhandled by Tim.

My feet act before my brain can catch up and I’m charging forward, pushing anyone or anything that stands in my way out of my line of attack. Thankfully, the sea of people part when they see me headed their way, but when Marisa latches onto my bicep to stop my sprint, I spin on my heel, my anger about ready to explode.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the first loose twenty I can find and shove it into her hand. “Here, call yourself a cab.”

“Dixon!” she cries, but I don’t stick around to find out what she has to say.

I charge down the spiral staircase and almost fall down the steps as I take two at a time, my feet moving with unparalleled speed, but I don’t care, because I need to get to Madison. Elbowing my way through the crowd, I push and shove, not caring who’s in my way, and my violence pays off because I get through the horde of people in record time. However, the spot where I last saw Madison is now filled with another couple, and I curse that I’ve lost her.

Blessing my height, I do a quick scan and my eyes zero in on Madison walking toward the exit with the ape on her tail. I’m functioning on autopilot and literally pick up anyone who stands in my way, and after many grunts, curses, and slaps ,I make it outside. Frantically looking from left to right, I see Madison storming away from Tim, yelling at him to leave her alone.

I take off in a quick march. Before I reach them, I hear Madison yell, “You need to stop following me. I told you I’m not interested in you.”

“How do you know you’re not interested in me? You won’t even give me a chance!” he angrily retorts, lunging forward to grab her.

I see the absolute terror contort her features, and that look sends me wild. Madison’s eyes widen when she sees me, which must alert the baboon, because he turns quickly, ready to assess the threat, but I’m quicker and I punch him straight in the jaw.

Madison screams and Tim stumbles backward, but neither is a deterrent and I charge forward, ready for strike two. I land a blow on his cheek and then deliver an upper cut to his chin in quick succession, which snaps his head back with a sickening thud.

Tim shakes his head and wobbles on his feet, my punishing blows obviously rattling his tiny brain, but I don’t stop. I right hook his face with a powerful swing and he ends up staggering backward, wiping the back of his hand against his bleeding lip.

“Dixon, no!” Madison screams, but I ignore her.

“You again!” he slurs when he sees me, his eyes narrowing in rage.

“I’m back to teach you some manners,” I snarl and lunge forward, attempting to knock this son of a bitch down.

He dodges my attack and gets in a lucky jab, connecting with my lip. The metallic taste indicates he’s busted my lip open, but the taste just fuels my rage. We both round off, each watching the other like prey, but Tim isn’t steady on his feet, and I can see his eye is starting to swell.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting for her. She doesn’t even put out,” he spits, his bloodied spittle staining the sidewalk red. “Or maybe she’s finally stopped being a cock tease and given it up.”

His crudeness feeds my anger and I’m about to attack, but Madison literally beats me to the punch as she steps between us and socks the asshole in the nose. He staggers backward, no doubt surprised she actually hit him, and he falls to his ass while Madison yelps, clutching her hand against her chest, hissing in pain.

Her safety overtakes my need to kick this guy’s ass. “Madison, are you okay?” I ask on a rushed breath, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

However, she surprises me as she shrugs out of my grip, appearing to be angry at me.

As she meets my confused gaze, I can see her eyes are filled with tears, but I have a feeling those tears aren’t caused by the pain she’s currently experiencing.

“Let me take a look,” I gently say.

“I’m okay,” she bravely replies, still cradling her wounded hand against her chest.

“Please?” I plead, softly wrapping my fingers around her wrist, coaxing her to let me see.

Thankfully she complies and lowers her hand, making a pained face at the movement.

“Can you make a fist?” I ask, lightly placing my hand around hers and feeling for any breaks.

She does so but whimpers in pain and tries to pull back. I have a firm grip on her, however, and don’t let go. I finish my examination and conclude, “It’s not broken, but it’s definitely sprained. Let’s get you home so you can ice it.”

“You’re bleeding,” she gasps, reaching out and touching my lip with her finger.

Her kind sentiment warms my heart, but I pull out of her touch, as I want to get her hand iced before it swells.

“I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. Let’s just get you home, okay?”

Madison nods. I look over her shoulder at Tim, who is slumped to the floor, too winded to move.

“Nice right hook,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and leading her in the direction of my car.

“Thanks,” she replies, trying to appear calm, but her tiny tremors reveal just how shaken up she is.

I bundle her closer into my side, and when she comes willingly, my body sings at the feeling of being needed by her.

As I feel the first sprinkles of rain paint my cheeks, I curse this atrocious weather. Without warning, the sky suddenly opens up and dumps a torrential downpour in seconds. Madison shrieks while I latch on tighter and quicken our step, as we’re about to drown.

“How far is it?” Madison yells to be heard over the rain, her face turned into my side.

“Three blocks,” I reply, my boots squishing with every step I take.

Madison suddenly places a hand on my bicep and when she squeezes tightly, I stop abruptly, wondering what she’s doing. She quickly reaches down and clumsily slips off her heels, dropping about five inches instantly. She looks up at me, looking like a drowned rat, but she smiles and nods, and then we commence a sprint to my car.

By the time we reach my BMW we are completely saturated, but all I can focus on is getting Madison inside and out of the rain. I practically shove her into the passenger seat when I unlock the door, and then make a mad dash for the driver’s side, slamming the door shut as I leap in.

The moment the engine purrs to life, I reach down and switch on the heating, as I can hear Madison’s teeth chattering. I glance over and see her damp clothes sticking to her body.

“Damn this weather,” I bark, brushing back my wet hair so I can see the congested road.

Just as I’m about to take off, Madison curses. “Shit.”

Looking over, I ask, “What’s the matter?”

She curses again and frantically looks around, lifting her ass off the seat and looking beneath her.

“Darn it, I’ve lost my bag,” she says with a small hiccup, and it’s only now that I’m not livid and can see relatively clearly that I notice she appears a little glassy-eyed.

“Do you remember when you had it last?” I ask, and she shakes her head, her wet hair sticking to her long neck.

Looking out through the windshield, I see the rain has picked up to biblical proportions, but I unbuckle my seatbelt, ready to brace the downpour. However, Madison clutches my forearm, stopping my retreat.

“You can’t go out there. It’s pouring, and this is New York. It’s probably already found a new home,” she explains, looking out the window.

“But what about your belongings?”

“It’s okay. I didn’t have much on me. Just my key, some cash, lip balm and gum,” she states and then she unexpectedly hiccups once again.

She appears mortified and quickly covers her mouth.

“Are you drunk?” I query with a smirk, and Madison lowers her face, embarrassed.

“No, not really. Well, I don’t think so,” she replies, the heater blowing her matted hair off her face.

“You don’t think so?” I ask, confused, while rebuckling my seatbelt.

Madison shakes her head and shyly replies, “I’m not a big drinker, so when I do drink, it only takes one or two and I’m pretty much done for the night.”

I indicate and pull out into traffic, knowing getting home is going to be a nightmare.

“Ah, a cheap drunk. Every man’s dream date,” I tease, but zip it when I realize what I just said.

Madison scoffs dryly. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem.”

“What is?”

“It’s the dream date that led me to drink.”

“I’m not following,” I reply, my eyes focused on the road.

The leather creaks as Madison moves, and I wonder if she’s regretting her random disclosure. But she surprises me as she says, “I met David’s parents tonight.”

“Oh?” I question, but I know damn well she met his parents, as I overheard her phone conversation.

“Yeah,” she replies, the heaviness clear in her tone.

“How’d it go?” I attempt to appear casual.

“Great,” she responds with a sigh.

“So, that’s a good thing, right?” I question, my fingers clenching the steering wheel.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were really nice people, and very accepting.”

“But…?”

“But I dunno. They were too nice and too accepting. Oh my God, what is the matter with me?” she cries, slapping her hands over her face.

I reach out with one arm and uncover her face. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you. And it’s my job to know these things,” I say, trying to make light of the situation.

“Yes, there is,” she sadly counters with a sniff.

Quickly glancing over, I see tears are collecting in her beautiful green eyes. Her sadness breaks my heart, so I decide to set her straight, as this self-doubt is painful to watch.

“From where I sit, I don’t see anything but perfection.” It’s out before I can stop myself, and I hope she isn’t freaked out by my honesty. I focus on the road, waiting for her reply.

“Thank you, Dixon,” she whispers after a minute of silence. “If only that were true.”

What is she hiding? We all have a past, but Madison’s is one that rules her future. The doctor in me is itching to find out what, and dissect her. But the man in me just wants to hold her and tell her that everything will be all right. I don’t understand why I feel that way, but there’s something inside of her that makes me want to be a better man.

“Where are we going?” she asks. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts.

Shit, I’ve ended up driving in the opposite direction from to where Madison lives, and unintentionally headed into my neighborhood. The rain is still punishing, and my wipers are working overtime, trying to keep up with the heavy shower.

“To my place,” I say, and quickly explain before I creep her out. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out in the rain with no key to get into your building. I was thinking you could use my phone, as I’ve left my cell at home, and call someone who may have a spare key. Or, I could drop you off someplace?” I suggest, hoping like hell she doesn’t say David’s.

There’s a slight pause before she nods, and I let out the involuntary breath I was holding.

“I’ll call Mary. Although…” She looks at her watch. “She probably won’t be home. I was meant to meet up with her, but—” She halts, chewing on her bottom lip as she tugs at the seatbelt nervously.

I wonder what she was going to say, but I don’t push. Besides, the way her eyes narrow, I don’t think I want to know.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. Again,” she says. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“What?” I gasp, turning into my underground car park. “Why on earth would I think that?”

“Because I’m either falling down, injuring myself, or getting into smack downs with my stalker ex when you’re around. Or I’m sending you a peace-offering cheesecake, and don’t hear from you all week,” she adds on a whisper.