Page 8 of Breathtaking
“Getting you out of here before this turns into an international incident.” Carefully, he sits me on the leather passenger seat of the Escalade, then reaches across and buckles my seat belt as I fight to ignore the way the brush of his fingers against my body still sends just as many goosebumps racing across my skin as they did the very first time I met him a million lifetimes ago. “Do you need anything out of the car?”
I nod, unable to speak.
Scared of what I’ll say.
Or what I won’t.
Maddox doesn’t look impressed, but he doesn’t call me out on it either. Just shakes his dark head and shuts my door.
This man... He’s so utterly different from the perfectly posh prep schoolboys I’ve known. The ones whose mummies and daddies sent them to Eton so they could learn to manage the family fortune. The ones who’ve never gotten their hands dirty or worked their muscles in any place other than the polo field. The ones who would never dream of manhandling a princess. The safe, boring, socially acceptable ones.
The ones I’ve never wanted.
A few moments later, he tosses my suitcase in the backseat and hands me my purse before he fires off a text and throws his vehicle into drive.
“What about the car?” I look back at the cute little red sports car and the tree nearly ripping it in half. Guess I should have gone with an SUV.
“I’ll take care of it. Let me get you out of here and get a doctor to the house to check you out?—”
“Maddox—”
“I didn’t ask a question,piccola principessa.”
I find bossy obnoxiously annoying on most people.
Why does it have to be so damn hot on this man?
MADDOX
Five Months Ago
Istand off to the side of my living room with my arms crossed, watching as Doc checks Lennon over with my fat, lazy bulldog sitting guard at her feet. Doc has worked for my dad for years and understands the need for discretion. And for the right amount of money, he doesn’t hesitate to make a house call in the middle of the night, snowstorm be damned. The two speak in hushed tones I can’t quite hear while her eyes keep straying to mine. It’s as if she’s making sure I’m still here. Like she’s scared I’ll leave. Or maybe just scared.
And that right there... the thought of her scared.
Fuck. I hate that.
Hate that I wasn’t there to protect her.
Hate that even after years of not seeing this woman, that’s still where my mind goes. And now she’s sitting in my condo an entire continent away from where I last saw her. From where she’s supposed to be happy with her preppy douchebag of a duke.
Lennon fucking Windsor in my condo.
Not where I thought my night was gonna go.
Everything about this woman is delicate and utterly feminine. From the long lean lines of her body to the way her waist nips in and her hips flare out... She’s the face of every fucking wet dream I’ve had for five years, and her creamy skin would turn a flaming shade of red darker than even her hair if she knew. She’s beautiful, and she knows it... She owns it. And since the day we met, there was something about her that’s brought out every single protective instinct I’ve ever had.
She used to be full of fire and light, burning brightly for the world to see. So fucking magnetic, you couldn’t look away. Lord knows I never could. But now... now that light has somehow dimmed, and I fucking hate it.
I shouldn’t give a shit. It’s been years since the last time we were together, but that doesn’t matter one bit. She’s always been the one who got away. The one thing I’ve regretted not going after. The only thing I didn’t fight for. But she’s also always been the one person who pissed me off like no one else ever could—because she’s the one who walked away. The one who begged me not to chase. Not to follow. The one who asked me to forget.
Like that was ever going to happen.
But for her, I’d try.
Maybe one day it’ll work.
I watch the way she clings to the dark-blue blanket wrapped around her delicate shoulders and want to shake her. Who wears a silk dress and heels in the middle of a snowstorm? And who ditches her security when she does it?
