Mad About the Man Read online

  He gazed into her beautiful, sleepy blue eyes and started toward the bedroom.

  “Oh, I’ll tell you later when I’m not half-asleep.” She snuggled her head against his shoulder and sighed wearily. “But you’d better set the alarm for six fifteen. I can’t be any later than eight.”

  “Hmm-hmm, we’ll see.” He laid her on the bed.

  “Maddox,” she protested, her eyelids drooping again. She reached for the buttons on her blouse.

  Gently, he brushed her hands aside. “Shh, let me.”

  With swift efficiency, he stripped her down to her bra and panties, then eased her beneath the sheets. She was sound asleep again seconds later, her head comfortably cradled on a plump pillow.

  Maddox padded back out to the dining room and kitchen for a last check of lights and appliances, then returned and went into his bathroom to wash and change. He came out again less than ten minutes later, switched off his bedside lamp, and climbed in next to her. Gathering her into his arms, he closed his eyes and joined her in a world of dreams.

  * * *

  Brie awakened, feeling luxuriously rested and wonderfully content. She stretched against the sheets, a smile on her mouth as she bumped a hand against the warm male slumbering at her side.

  She cracked open an eyelid and looked at him, lying darkly handsome against the pure white bed linens. Then her gaze drifted past, idly glancing at the luminous dial on his bedside clock.

  Eight thirty, it read.

  Eight thirty?

  On a Tuesday?

  Oh. Good. Christ.

  She was late! And she was never late.

  In a panic, she flung back the covers and leaped from the bed.

  “Hey, where’s the fire?” Maddox grumbled, his voice thick and groggy with sleep.

  “Under my I-overslept butt.” She pointed a finger at him. “You are so in trouble. What were you thinking, turning off the alarm? Crap, where are my clothes?”

  “In the closet, as I told you last night, although I’m not surprised you don’t remember, considering how sleepy you were.” He sat up, ran a set of fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “Hey, calm down. The world’s not going to end because you’re a little late.”

  “Not a little—two hours. And I have a conference call at nine thirty.” Her stomach squeezed as the realization set in. “If I rush, maybe I can still make it.”

  She raced to the closet and flung open the door. Inside she found a rack of gorgeous, sophisticated feminine suits and dresses hanging on their own separate bar in the midst of his wardrobe. Her new clothes were made of luxurious materials and looked extremely expensive. She flicked a finger over one tag and rolled her eyes at the la-la designer label. A downward glance and she discovered a neat row of women’s shoes in a range of complementary colors—mostly Jimmy Choos and Manolos, if she wasn’t mistaken. Without taking the time to check out the styling details, she grabbed a suit in dark blue off the hanger, a shirt, and a pair of matching heels, then hurried back to fling everything on the bed.

  “Your conference call isn’t until eleven. So relax—you’ve got time.”

  She stopped, a light blue and white polka-dot silk shell in her hands. “What do you mean? How do you even know what’s on my schedule?”

  “Because I checked the calendar on your cell. I tried to wake you up at six thirty as requested, but you were really out of it. So I texted your assistant, Gina, and told her you’re having a slow start this morning and could she juggle your appointments around?”

  “You talked to Gina?”

  “Texted, yes.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. She had it all rearranged and rescheduled within a half hour. You’re lucky to have her. She’s very efficient.”

  “Yes, I know that.” She dropped down on the bed, the shirt forgotten. “Did she know it was you?”

  His mouth tilted up in a wry half smile. “No, I used your account and kept it brief, so I presume she thinks she spoke with you. Satisfied?”

  She nodded. “Sorry. It’s just—”

  “That you don’t want word of our relationship getting around the office. I get it. Though I hate to burst your bubble, kiddo, by making the observation that we have been seen out in public together. I’m not sure how big a secret we really are.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “But still, we don’t have to advertise.”

  “God forbid, no. No advertising or splashy episodes of PDA.” He gave a mock shudder.

  She made a face at his humor. Then she turned serious again. “So I was really so asleep this morning that you couldn’t wake me up?”

  “Yep.” He climbed out of bed, completely naked and completely comfortable with it; Maddox had very few inhibitions. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d taken some sleeping pills.”

  He arched an inquiring brow.

  She shook her head.

  “Exhausted. Just as I thought. I’ve got to quit keeping you up until all hours.”

  Her gaze moved over him and his long, powerful, rock-hard body. He really was quite beautiful. She sent him a slow smile. “Yes, but they’ve been good hours.” Her eyes dropped to his shaft, which thickened and stiffened under her gaze. “Great hours.”

  “Hmm, so they have.” He held out a hand. “Come on.”

  “Come where?”

  “Shower. I thought we’d share.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  He pulled her to her feet. “I think it’s an excellent idea.” Without waiting for her consent, he unsnapped her bra and pulled it off, along with her panties. “Two birds and all that.”

  He winked.

  Her blood turned heavy and hot with anticipation. Taking his hand, she let him lead her toward the big marble-lined shower with multiple spray heads.

  Reaching in, he turned them all on; steam quickly filled the space. He urged her in, under the deliciously warm spray. They were both wet in an instant.

  Grabbing the soap, which smelled of fine-milled oatmeal, he worked up a lather in his large hands. He cupped them over her breasts before moving lower.

  She groaned as he began soaping her everywhere, using gliding, soul-shattering strokes that nearly drove her mad. When he was finished, she took the soap and lathered him, not missing an inch.

  Both of them were panting by the time she finished.

  “How much longer do we have again?” she murmured as they stood together in the spray to rinse off.

  Hands still slick, he slid wet fingers between her legs to discover another kind of wetness altogether. “I don’t know. Long enough to run the hot water out if we want.”

  She convulsed with pleasure and threw her head back, her dripping hair like a sleek cap against her skull. “I want.”

  He crushed his mouth against hers with a demand that she returned without constraint. He walked her back until she was pressed against the slightly cool tile, then lifted one of her legs to wrap around his hip.

  She twined her arms tightly around his shoulders and kissed him harder.

  “I like saving time this way, don’t you?” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  Then he thrust into her, sure and deep.

  She cried out. “God, yes!”

  Shifting her hips in his capable hands, he arranged her so she could take even more of him, the pair of them slick as eels and twined around each other like vines. “We should do this every morning,” he said on a low groan.

  She moaned into his mouth and forgot about everything else but him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Four months later, Maddox fit his key into the lock of Brie’s apartment and opened the door. He moved inside, his garment bag in one hand and a sack of groceries in the other. He dropped his luggage just inside the door, then crossed to set the groceries on the kitchen island.<
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  He hadn’t been sure what Brie might have stocked in her end-of-the-week refrigerator, so he’d stopped at the market on the way back from the airport. He’d bought a pair of thick, well-marbled rib-eye steaks; plump, golden brown baking potatoes; and a ripe, crimson-hued heirloom tomato: another quick, easy meal that he knew he would have a hard time ruining.

  He’d been traveling again—Chicago this time. The trip had gone well and he’d been able to work out a few logistical kinks that had been plaguing the staff for a while. He’d interviewed and hired an exciting new executive chef as well, a James Beard Award winner who was bubbling over with fresh, cutting-edge ideas to keep the restaurant at the top of its game. Plus, he made really delicious food.

  But successful as the trip had been, Maddox had been ready to head home to New York. Correction, he’d been ready to head home to Brie. She was the essential factor, he realized with a bit of surprise. He suspected that if she lived in Antarctica, he would have been all revved to put on a Gore-Tex parka, gloves, and boots and hike across the glaciers to reach her, wherever she might be.

  The thought stopped him in his tracks as he unloaded the grocery bag, a pint of sour cream held absently in one hand.

  What was he doing thinking about her that way?

  He’d missed her, sure. It was only natural, after all, granted that they were intimately involved and he wasn’t the sort to seek out extracurricular bed partners when he was away on business.

  He wanted her, that was all. He’d been without her for days and he was looking forward to a long, satisfying night spent in her arms. There was also the fact that he just plain liked her; she was a smart, interesting woman who simultaneously intrigued and amused him.

  He was never bored when he was with Brie.

  As for their new living arrangement, things were going amazingly well. They alternated nights at each other’s apartments depending on their schedules. To his astonishment—and he would guess hers as well—they’d slipped into the new routine as if they’d been doing it for years rather than a few short months. Being with her was easy, almost as natural as breathing. The more time they spent together, the more they learned they had in common. She liked many of the same things he did.

  They both enjoyed reading political thrillers, historical biographies, and classic fiction, although he still couldn’t quite bring himself to read the complete works of Jane Austen despite her assurances about how wonderful they were. He and Brie listened to the same music, discovering a mutual love for a rather obscure alternative rock band that he promised he was going to take her to see the next time they played in the city. Her favorite painters were Klimt and Monet and although he was an admirer of more contemporary artists, he also enjoyed the Art Nouveau and Impressionist periods with enthusiasm.

  They even got along when it came to TV and movies, and despite their rooting for different teams, she never minded snuggling on the sofa on Sunday afternoons to watch sports.

  She really was an excellent companion, both in bed and out.

  There was a part of him that had half expected to be ready to break up and move on by now, but curiously he was having the opposite reaction. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend.

  He’d thought this trip might be a good opportunity to enjoy some alone time. Only once he’d left, all he could think about was how soon he could be back with her again. He’d even taken to phoning her each evening before bed to talk about her day and to share the highs and lows of his. And when the chance had come today to catch an early flight back, he’d taken it without a moment’s hesitation.

  As for his excursion to the market so he could surprise her with dinner when she got home from work, well, he was just being considerate, perhaps a touch romantic. He was in the mood to celebrate his return, that’s all.

  Of course, he’d never been overly romantic with his other lovers, nothing beyond the usual trappings of flowers, candy, and elegant dinners out. Not that he couldn’t be thoughtful, but generally, he did as he pleased, not the other way around.

  Yet with Brie, he wanted to make her happy. Wanted to see her laugh and smile and look at him with that special light in her eyes, the one that made him feel like he’d just fought a battle and won her as the prize.

  Abruptly, he set down the sour cream.

  Christ, I’ve got it bad, haven’t I?

  He’d told her he wasn’t expecting a lifetime commitment, but now he wondered. Had he asked her to exchange keys because he wanted the freedom to come and go as he chose? Or was it something far more serious? Did he wish, like today, that every time he came back from a business trip, it would be to find her waiting? Was it because he craved something more than his independent life? That he didn’t want just the good times together but all the times—the good and bad and everything in between?

  Before he had time to consider further, he heard a noise at the door. Sudden anticipation warmed his blood.

  And then she was there, frozen just inside the doorway, her clear blue eyes round as they fixed on him, her pretty lips parted in a silent O. “Maddox?”

  “Hey.” He grinned.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t getting in for another four hours.”

  He shrugged. “The airline had an earlier flight, so I decided to surprise you.”

  “Well, you did.” She set down her briefcase and closed the door, then glanced past him to the groceries on the counter. “What’s all this?”

  “Dinner.”

  “You’re cooking dinner?”

  “Just steaks and potatoes, nothing fancy.”

  She smiled, her teeth white and pretty. “It sounds wonderful. I thought I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow, since you told me not to wait up.”

  “Looks like I lied.” He opened his arms. “Guess I couldn’t stay away.”

  She kicked off her heels, sprinted forward, and leaped against him. He caught her, crushing his mouth to hers, their kiss one of hot, hungry welcome.

  He laughed. “Miss me?”

  Her fingers tunneled into his hair, her mouth moving in ardent pecks and brushes across his cheeks, lips, chin, and jaw. “What do you think?”

  “I think with greetings like that, maybe I’ll have to go away more often.”

  “Hmm, maybe so.” Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and began to unfasten them. “I like coming home and finding you here, waiting for me.”

  “I figured I ought to put that key you gave me to use.” He set her feet on the floor and pulled the shirttail out of the waistband of her skirt. Reaching underneath, he sought out the warm satin of her skin.

  She trembled and kissed him harder, her hands roaming over his chest. “You can put it to use anytime you’d like.”

  “I know something else I’d like to put to use.”

  Her mouth slanted over his, her tongue greedy. “Let me guess.”

  He sucked in a breath as she cupped him through his trousers, turning instantly hard.

  “We should take a time-out if you want dinner.” His voice was rough with desire.

  “We can eat later. I want you first.”

  His eyelids grew heavy as she found the straining button on his waistband and popped it free. Scattering random kisses across his neck and shoulders and chest, she slid down his zipper with a seductive rasp.

  His cock thickened even more at her touch, his blood pooling like fire as she palmed him again through his underwear. She teased him, driving him to the edge of madness.

  God, he wanted her.

  Do I love her too?

  He thought he just might.

  But he didn’t have time to think that revelation through at the moment. Instead, he yanked off her shirt, her lacy bra along with it, and sought out the peaks of her breasts, which were pink as berries and would taste every bit as sweet. He arched her over his
arm and began suckling, using his teeth and tongue in precisely the way she liked.

  She let out a whimpering little cry, one he always loved to hear. He laved and suckled and nipped her other breast and was soon rewarded with another helpless, needy wail that sang from her parted lips.

  “Bedroom?” she panted moments later, taking his face between her hands to kiss him wildly again.

  But he didn’t want to wait, not even that small fraction of time. He wanted her. Had to have her with an ache that was almost agony. Suddenly, it was as if his very life depended on their joining.

  He shook his head. “No, here.”

  Without pause, he pushed her skirt to her waist and her panties to the floor, kicking the little bit of lace and silk aside. But rather than pick her up and put her on the counter, he spun her around and placed her hands against the edge.

  “Maddox?” she said wonderingly, her voice high and quavering.

  “Shh,” he hushed. He kissed her neck, taking a moment to cup and caress her naked breasts until her nipples were hard points.

  She arched back against him, shuddering as he eased his fingers between her legs from the front and began to stroke. He massaged her intimately, insistently, maddening her until he could tell she was trembling and on the brink.

  Unable to wait another moment, he freed his heavy, throbbing erection and settled his hands on her hips. He pushed her legs wider and positioned her to accept him.

  Then he slid in deep. Her tight, wet flesh closed around him like a hot, sleek velvet glove. He groaned, knowing that nothing had ever felt so good, that nothing would ever feel so good.

  And he knew that, with her, he was finally home.

  * * *

  Hours later, they lay in her bed, the pair of them curled around each other, satiated and content, the sheets a messy tangle at their feet.

  They never had gotten around to eating the food he’d brought, too wrapped up in each other to do more than stumble to her bedroom and dive onto the mattress, where they had continued on to the next bout of frenzied lovemaking.

  Afterward, they’d talked, dozed a little, then roused again to make love one more time. It had been sweet and slow, that last coupling, and so wonderfully satisfying that time itself seemed to slow.