Messy strokes wrecked ro.., p.30
Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates), page 30
“You sure you wouldn’t mind?” I ask.
“It’d be my pleasure.”
“But…” I motion to my desk. “I’m kind of at work.”
“Yeah, but don’t you guys close in like”––balancing Penny on one hip, Reese pulls out her phone from her back pocket and checks the time––“an hour?”
“Well, yeah,” I hedge. “But, still.”
“I heard you might know the guy who owns the place. Call it a hunch, but I bet he’d let you off the hook.”
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I ask, “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I’ll even stick around and pretend like I know what I’m doing until the last customer leaves. Deal?”
Unable to help myself, I pull Reese into a hug, squishing Penny between us like a peanut butter sandwich. “Thank you, Reese. You’re seriously a lifesaver.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
“If you need anything, or if Penny needs anything––”
“I know where to find you guys. He’s staying in room 301 at the Remnant. It’s on––”
“I know where it is,” I choke out. It’s the same place we made love not so long ago. Hell, even the room is the same. If that isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.
“I fed her about an hour ago, so she’ll probably just get sleepy. But if you need it, I have some formula in the diaper bag and some frozen milk in the freezer at the house––”
“I gotcha covered,” she interrupts. “Now, go.”
“Thank you!”
I grab my wallet and keys from the diaper bag and race out the door.
Like Reese said, my man needs me.
41
Maddie
Eminem is blaring down the hall as I step off the elevator, the mirror vibrating against the wall as my gaze connects with my reflection.
“This sounds promising,” I mutter under my breath, making my way toward the thumping bass while attempting to smooth down my messy hair. I hadn’t exactly gotten ready when I left the house after Jos’s phone call. I wasn’t in the mood. But right now, I’m seriously regretting my lack of a shower.
Will he still want me if I look like shit?
I puff out my cheeks and wipe my sweaty palms against my pants before tapping my knuckles against room 301’s door.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
I look left and right, then call out, “Milo?”
Nothing.
Rocking back on my heels, I knock a little harder. “Milo, are you in there?”
The music doesn’t stop pulsing, but heavy footsteps thump beneath Eminem’s lyrics, and the door wrenches open.
Milo jerks back, surprise written across his handsome features along with some black, oily paint.
“What are you––” we say at the same time, though his eyes are wide with shock.
“You first,” I offer, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.
He folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorjamb. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Obviously,” I add as I rock back on my heels again and tuck my thumbs into my back pockets. “W-what are you doing in there?”
“Coping.”
“I can, uh, I can see.” My gaze drops to the black smudge on his stubbled cheek while Eminem’s lyrics continue to overshadow our entire conversation. “Does the hotel manager know you’re…coping in there too?”
“Lou owes me.”
“Oh.” I purse my lips and tilt my head to one side, attempting to peek around his massive frame, though it’s useless. “Can I, uh, come in?”
“What?” he asks, though I have a feeling he heard me despite the loud music.
“I asked if I could come in,” I repeat.
“Why are you here, Em?”
Em.
There’s the blasted name again. I never mind when anyone else calls me by my nickname. But I do with Milo.
I care so much that with one simple syllable, he’s almost brought me to my knees. But no matter how much I want to run, to hide in shame, I keep my head held high and meet his stone-cold gaze with one filled with heat. And passion. And a fire only he’s ever been able to stoke in me.
“I’m here to apologize,” I start, hating the way my voice is shaking.
“So, do it.”
“I-I’m sorry––”
“Fine. You’ve apologized.” He starts to close the door, but I slam my hand against it, keeping it from shutting.
“I’m here to beg you to give me another chance,” I continue. “I’m here to fight for you. I’m here to make you understand I’m sorry, and there isn’t anyone else I’ll ever want but you and only you. I’m here to tell you, despite whoever’s blood runs through Penny’s veins, she’s still yours. She’ll always be yours. If you’ll have her.”
His expression twists with torture as he shakes his head back and forth. “You make it sound so easy––”
“I think we both know life with me is the furthest thing from easy,” I return with a sad smile. “But I’d like to hope you might think I’m worth it. And if you want a paternity test, I’ll get it done. If you want me to move out, I’ll make it happen. If you want me to disappear, I’ll do my best to lie low. But only for a little while. Not forever––”
“What if it’s what I want?” he counters, refusing to give me a damn inch.
“For me to disappear?”
“Yeah.” He lifts his chin defiantly. “What if it’s what I want? Because my life is a hell of a lot easier when you aren’t in it.”
He’s right.
It’s probably a lot easier.
But I’m hoping it’s a lot less fulfilling too.
On shaky legs, I step over the threshold and into the tiny hotel room without waiting for an invitation, placing my hand on his chest. The pace of his beating heart against my palm matches mine and gives me hope I’m not alone, and maybe he feels the same way I do. Maybe he’s simply too scared to admit it.
“You’ve never been one to take the easy road, Milo, and I don’t think you want to start now. Not when I know you love me the same way I love you.”
He squeezes his hands into fists, turns on his heel, and marches toward the damn stereo system blaring way too loud for a hotel room. I’m surprised no one has called the service desk and tattled. Or maybe they have, and no one has wanted to confront Milo.
I don’t blame them.
He looks terrifying like this. All hyped up on adrenaline and anger. On disappointment and pain. I’m the one who caused it all, and it breaks my heart.
With his back to me, he drops his chin to his chest and takes slow, controlled breaths, refusing to even acknowledge me as he turns off the music.
The room now blanketed in silence, I whisper, “I’m not going anywhere, Milo.”
Inching closer to him, I reach out and touch the soft, dark cotton covering his lower back, silently begging him to turn around. To look at me. To give me another chance. And to listen to what I have to say.
“Running. Disappearing. It’s what broke us the first time,” I admit. “I didn’t understand how, for once in your life, you wanted someone to fight for you the way you always fight for everyone else.”
The heat radiating from him warms my fingertips, but the bastard doesn’t move a muscle. His head is cocked, though. And I can hear his breathing. Which means he can hear me, too, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
“Instead, I ran,” I whisper, praying he can also hear the sadness in my voice even though he refuses to see it firsthand because I saw my reflection in the mirror. I know what I look like. And sad is an understatement.
“I’m not running this time, Milo.”
His back could be made from stone with how tight his muscles are, but he turns around and faces me, still silent. Still cold.
I gulp past the lump in my throat. Past my fear. My insecurities. All of it. And I press on.
“You wanted me to want you more than anything else in the world. You wanted me to care about you the same way you cared about me. And I’m here to prove it to you.” I brush my fingers against his calloused knuckles resting at his sides. By some miracle, he doesn’t pull away, so I grab hold and unclench his fists, tangling our fingers together. Carefully. Cautiously. Like he’s a terrified lion who could lash out at any second.
And I know I’d deserve it if he did.
“I know you thought I’d get bored,” I continue. “You thought I’d want something or someone else. It’s why you didn’t come after me the first time. But I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to prove you’re the only one for me. And you’re the only one for Penny too.”
His jaw ticks.
“You’re my dandelion, Milo. Resilient. Beautiful. You granted me my biggest wish. A family. A place to stay. Support. Everything a girl could possibly ask for. And if you give me another chance, I promise to make you peanut butter sandwiches after sex and more babies you can adore as much as Penny. I’ll give you whatever you want. Except space. Because it isn’t what you need. Not anymore. What you need…is me. The same way I need you––”
He grabs my waist and tugs me against him, pressing his mouth to mine in a hard kiss. I open up to him, my lips quivering under his demanding touch. But I love it. The way his tongue slides against mine. The way his fingers bruise my hips. The way I can taste his desperation the same way I know he can taste mine. Like our own emotional layers, he sheds our clothes, tossing them to the floor without a care as to where they might land as he pulls me toward the bed and lays me down. Biting. Nipping. Sucking. Every square inch of my skin he can get his mouth on before spreading my legs and settling between them.
“Milo––”
“You’re mine.”
“I know.”
“This”––he shoves himself inside me––“is mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp from the intrusion.
“These”––he squeezes my breasts, bruising my sensitive flesh with his fingertips as he pumps in and out of me faster and faster––“are mine.”
“Yes, Milo. I’m all yours. I’m all yours,” I chant. Each and every thrust carries me higher and higher.
“Forever,” he growls against my throat, biting roughly, pushing me toward my orgasm in record time.
It’s never been like this with anyone else.
Only him.
Always him.
How can he not see––or feel––what he does to me? He knows exactly how to wreck me and put me back together again. Over and over. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.
“Always,” I breathe out as I arch my back and scrape my fingernails against his bare skin. I’m so close. I can feel it. Hell, I can almost taste it. The impending crash which will carry us both into oblivion. In each other's arms. The way it’s supposed to be.
“Always,” he promises.
He stiffens on top of me, and I scream, both of us climaxing in unison.
Pressing his forehead to mine, our respiration mingling as we both catch our breath, he murmurs, “And Penny…”
Shit.
Hearing him whisper her name is like a dull spoon scooping out my heart until I’m left hollow.
“I’m sorry––”
“Sh…,” he interrupts.
A tear slips down my cheek. He kisses it away and continues. “She’s mine too. I don’t need a paternity test to prove it.”
“You don’t…?” I swallow the lump in my throat and squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at the man I’ll never deserve. “You don’t want to know for sure?”
“I already do know for sure.” He shifts his weight onto his elbows and brushes a few strands of hair away from my face. “She’s my lucky Penny, Mads. She brought me back to you.”
I bite my lip.
“You’re sure?” I breathe out. I’m terrified if I speak too loudly, my voice will erase the last fifteen minutes, and I’ll wake up in bed––alone. Without Milo or his unconditional love for our baby girl.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life, Mads. I love you. And if this didn’t change how I feel about you, I’m pretty sure nothing will.”
“Pretty sure?” I challenge.
A breath of laughter escapes him, and he places another kiss on my swollen lips. “Someone’s pushy.”
“You know me,” I quip.
With his forehead pressed against mine and a soft smile on his lips, he mutters, “All right, Mads. I’m positive. You’re the one for me. Always and forever.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’m kinda sick of all this drama.”
He chuckles again and kisses my forehead. “Agreed.”
“The painting, though…” I rub my thumb against the smudge on his cheek. “I could get used to it.”
“Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. You look sexy with paint on your face. Reminds me of the other areas I’ve seen you get dirty.”
Running his nose along mine, he teases, “Don’t tempt me. This stuff isn’t as easy to wash off as the other.”
“So, you weren’t planning on me storming the hotel and saving the day?”
“Not exactly.” With a tired smile, he drops another kiss to my forehead. “But I’m glad you did.”
“Me too,” I murmur, basking in the feel of his soft lips against me when only a little while ago, I was convinced I’d never experience it again. Wrapping my arms around his back, I squeeze him as tight as I can.
With a low chuckle, he mutters, “You all right?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay now. You?’
“Yeah, babe. I’m great.”
Forcing myself to let him go, I look back up at him and brush my finger against the dark, oily paint marring his cheek. “So, what were you painting?”
“Let me show you.” He rolls over, getting to his feet and waving his arm at the three giant canvases leaning against the opposite wall.
My jaw drops. “Holy shit.”
With a dry laugh, he squeezes the back of his neck shyly, his bare ass on full display as he inspects his work.
“You should put some clothes on,” I note.
He looks over his shoulder and finds my attention glued to those gorgeous globes of beauty. “There a problem with my ass?”
“There is if you want me to admire the paintings instead of the other work of art in the room.”
Rolling his eyes, he turns around, offers his hand to me, and I take it. In an instant, I’m on my feet with my back pressed to his chest––and his growing erection––as he rests his chin on top of my head and sways us back and forth, moving us around to face his art.
“Here. Now, you’re not distracted.”
“Debatable,” I mumble, but I breathe deep and inspect his work nonetheless. The paintings are raw. And angry. Black and white are splattered across the canvas in thick, heavy strokes, but there’s so much emotion in them, I can’t help the awe accompanying the rage.
“I’m so sorry, Milo,” I whisper.
“You’ve already apologized.”
“Yet, I feel like it won’t ever be enough.”
He drops his forehead to the back of my head and breathes me in. Like I’m his lifeline when we both know it’s the other way around.
“It’s enough,” he promises. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“So, what do you think?” he murmurs. “Other than the angry rawness of it all…do you like it?”
“You mean, the pictures belonging at the Met?” I ask, appreciating them in all their glory.
“Yeah.”
I shrug and peek over my shoulder at him. “Meh.”
Digging his fingers into my sides, he tickles the crap out of me and makes my legs practically give out until it’s only his strong grasp keeping me from becoming a squirming mess on the floor.
“Stop!” I laugh. “Stop! I give up! They’re gorgeous, okay? Raw and painful. But beautiful.”
He stops tickling me, and I take advantage by turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You think they’re beautiful?” he asks, his voice vulnerable.
I nod and tug him closer to me before rising onto my tiptoes. “I think they’re perfect. Just like you.”
“You think?”
“Nope. I know.”
The End
Epilogue
Maddie
“So…where are you taking us?” I ask as I look out the window. The road has been winding for a solid two minutes since we turned off the main street, fanning my curiosity even more than when he said he had a surprise for Penny and me. Trees line both sides, and the sun is shining high in the sky. It’s beautiful.
“I already told you. It’s a surprise.”
“Well, yeah. But––”
“Stop asking questions. We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
His glare makes me snap my mouth shut, and I fold my arms and stick out my lower lip.
“Party pooper,” I grumble.
Pulling up a short driveway with trimmed green grass framing both sides, he puts his Subaru into park and turns to me.
“You gonna pout? Or are we gonna go inside?”
“Inside…this?” I wave my hand at the adorable, white two-story home in front of us with giant windows and red tulips popping out of the rich dirt-filled flower beds.
“Yes.”
“Oookaaay?” We both climb outside as I continue to eye the foreign house warily.
“Is this Jos’s house or something?” I question when he rounds the front of the car with Penny on his hip.
“You’ve been to Jos’s place.”
“Yeah, but wasn’t he thinking of moving? Maybe this is his new house.”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Is it––”
“Stop asking questions, and get your ass inside,” he orders, all bark and no bite.
Sticking my tongue out at him, I sway toward the black front door, lifting my hand to knock as he sidles up next to me and twists the door handle.
“Milo––”
“Get inside, Mads.”
“This isn’t our house. We can’t walk in––”
