Kissing Madeline (Dearest #3) (39 page)

“Maddie, are you getting cold feet?”

“What? No, of course not. I just want you to be sure.”

“I’m sure. I’m so sure I will swear on my Heisman.”

I gasp. “No, that’s sacrilege. Football gods, he’s kidding.” I shake my head. “There shall be no swearing on that trophy for any reason.”

He laughs, and the sound fills the car. “Maddie McDermott, are you superstitious? I had no idea.”

“I simply do not believe in messing with a good thing right before the playoffs.” And yes, I’m a teeny bit superstitious.

He frowns. “Hmm. That throws a wrench in my plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you aren’t up for any change before the playoffs, then you’ll have to wait for us to redo your office.”

“What office?”

“The one we’re making in the guest room, so you can work.”

My heart warms at his offer. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I want you to have a space of your own. Oh, and one more thing. Keep next weekend open. After my game, we have plans.”

“What do you mean we have plans?”

Tapping the steering wheel, he says, “We. Have. Plans.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “I plan to take my girlfriend on another date.” And then he winks.

High school Maddie squees.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

- Maddie -

The last few months have been nothing short of insane, but moving in with Daren, having him with me, has helped.

After Brad was arrested, the media frenzy got worse, but soon another scandal replaced mine. The fallout, though, was significant. Roger resigned over how the station handled my story. Spencer used every outtake with Daren, every smile and interaction with him to milk the ratings. And there was nothing I could do about it. My old boss has since gotten another job. I apologized to Roger for lying to him about Daren, and he told me I'm a hard worker and will land on my feet once the dust settles. I know I disappointed him, but I also know I love Daren. So no matter how Daren and I got here, no matter how difficult our journey has been, I wouldn't take it back because he feels like my forever.

Nicole told investigators that Brad would ask her about me, and she merely thought he was nursing a crush and not being a full-on stalker. She maintains she didn't have anything to do with me being hacked, but I can't be positive she wasn't one of the anonymous sources that shared details only someone in my office would have known, like the flowers Daren sent me. I suppose it doesn't matter since I don't trust her anyway. Just last month, she was offered a job with a big celebrity news show in Los Angeles. She took it.

After Brad's arrest, I tried to block out the media frenzy as much as possible. I worked out in Daren’s home gym. I took yoga classes and hung out with our close friends. For the first time ever, I stopped watching the news. Instead, I read Sheri’s steamy books, practiced my new sex moves on Daren at night—which he loved—and learned to relax.

By February, I came to peace with everything. I even started getting offers from a few small stations in the Midwest to do news, and ESPN offered me a full-time job. I finally agreed to do a few sports segments a month for them because I could stay local. I told them in no uncertain terms that there was no way I was leaving Boston. Not with Daren here. ESPN agreed.

His team went all the way and made it to the Super Bowl. They lost in overtime, but Daren had a spectacular game. I couldn’t have been prouder.

Now, flipping open my new laptop, one that Daren bought for me a few months ago, I take the Post-It off the camera and finish tweaking my weekly YouTube segment.

Daren was the one who suggested I try video blogging. I started with something simple. Me. People had so many questions about what happened, and I got tired of dodging the press, so I began by explaining how everything went down last fall and how I got hacked by Brad. He used a common spyware called a RAT—Remote Access Trojan—to lurk on my computer and spy on me. He gained full access to my email, docs, and camera. And after I noticed the camera light that one night, he made sure to turn it off the next time he filmed me. Then the creeper hacked my phone by emailing me a virus.

I guess I was lucky in a way. Because all of those gifs were taken from actual videos, but fortunately, those didn’t leak. Neither did my weekly Out-Skanking texts with Clementine, thank God!

My first video blog segment ended with tips on protecting yourself from RATting, which included getting the latest anti-spyware, covering your laptop camera when it’s not in use, changing passwords frequently, and only using a secure server. Granted, there was nothing I could do to protect myself from Brad given that he was supposed to be the one to protect me from being hacked, but for the average person, those suggestions can help.

The morning after I uploaded the story, I woke up to find my little video trending on YouTube. Twenty-four hours later, I had almost a half-million views. Then the job offers really started to stream in.

But Daren’s right. I’ve been running at a hundred miles an hour for too long, so I’ve been using this time to cover what I want, how I want. My segments are getting picked up by news stations, and I don’t have to show any skin to make some asshole producer happy. Of course, I still cover football on occasion. But now it’s because I want to.

“You ready?” Daren asks, slipping on a baseball cap.

“Yes.”

He tosses the ball to me. “You need to watch Clementine closer this time. She got by you last weekend on a reverse.”

Laughing, I nod. “All right, Clutch. But
you
need to remember that this is
touch
football and not actually tackle any of the guys. I was afraid you almost dislocated Jax’s arm last time.”

“He can take it. He’s a big boy.”

“No doubt. But still. Play nice.”

“Babe, I always play nice.” Daren bats his eyelashes innocently, and I shake my head, fighting a grin.

“And freaking pass the ball to Gavin. He’s always open.”

Daren grumbles, but I know he’s just being a brat. I follow behind him, but he stops so quickly I stumble into him. He turns to me and asks, “If I pass to Gavin, can I have brownies when we get home?”

That’s become our code. I chuckle, placing my hands on his waist. “Honey, you had ‘brownies’ this morning. Twice. Do you really need them again?”

His head rears back. “Sweet thing, I always need your brownies.” And then he tosses me over his shoulder, smacks my ass, and carries me out the door squealing.

EPILOGUE

(Three Years Later)

- Daren -

I can’t get over how much fucking traffic there is for a Sunday night. My phone lights up where it’s resting on the dashboard, and I check to make sure it’s not Maddie before I toss it onto the passenger seat.

My head is all over the place. If I take a call, even with a hands-free setup, I’m likely to drive into the median. Christ, I need to calm down.

Deep breaths.
Breathe the fuck in and exhale the fuck out.

Finally, I get to our neighborhood, which is decked out in Rebel flags. Partygoers from the corner bar rush out into the street and start cheering, and I laugh and try my best not to run anyone over.

I’m proud, but right now, there’s only one person I want to celebrate with, and if I don’t get home in exactly three minutes, I’m gonna lose my shit.

My wheels squeal to a stop, and I grab my phone and bag and race in. Maddie said she wouldn’t freak out during the game, but I know how she gets. And she is in no condition to be stressed out.

When I open the front door, my eyes immediately land on her. Her head tilts to the left and her left eyebrow raises as she picks up her phone.

“Daren Sloan, how the hell did you get home that fast? I told you I was fine. See?” She waves her arms at herself. “Fine.” She starts to push off the couch.

“Don’t, babe. Stay put. I’ll be right there. Let me wash my hands first.” Because you can’t be too careful. You’d be surprised how many germs you’d find on doorknobs and handles. I really should get more disinfectant wipes.

In record time, I’ve kicked off my shoes and tossed off my coat. Maddie sighs back into the couch, and when I’ve washed up, I sit next to her and wrap my arms around her as gently as I can.

“Honey, I’m not going to break,” she chides, tilting her head up to kiss me.

I nibble on her sweet bottom lip that tastes like cherry Chapstick before I scoop her in my arms. She squeals and grips my shoulders, and I kiss her long and deep.

“Mm. Why, Mr. Sloan, I dare say you missed me. Which is saying something since I saw you this morning.”

“Why, Mrs. Sloan, of course I miss you. Every minute that we’re apart.”

She leans back and places her palm on my face, and I lean into her. Her black hair is tied back in a braid, and she’s so damn beautiful, my chest hurts.

“You’re a smooth talker, Clutch.” She places a soft kiss on my lips. “I dare say you could have your way with me when you talk like that.”

My dick hardens at the mere mention of having sex with my wife. If I thought she was beautiful when I met her, she’s downright breathtaking now.

I cough, trying not to get ahead of myself. “Wildcat, I thought you needed to take it easy. Dr. Klein said—”

“Dr. Klein said I could do whatever I felt comfortable doing as long as I’m not on my stomach.”

I work my jaw back and forth. “So last night—”

“Last night you needed rest. You had the conference championship today, and you kicked all kinds of ass. In fact, I just won a hundred bucks off your game in a pool the yoga girls put together.”

My head tilts back as I bark out a laugh. “Babe, I don’t know where to start with that.” She smiles proudly and bats those long lashes at me. “So you held out last night because of
my
game?”

“Yes.”

“And you
bet
on my game?”

“Yes.”

“And you can get naked tonight?”

“Oh, yes.”

That’s all it takes for me to lift her up and stalk toward our bedroom. My little minx has been holding out. She giggles against my neck, and my heart starts to race. Because I am one lucky motherfucker.

I place her gently on our king-sized bed, and she looks up at me with such adoration in her eyes, I might melt on the spot. She unties her braid because she knows how much I love it loose when we’re together.

Threading my fingers through her long tresses, I lean down to kiss her, and she opens her mouth to let me in. She sucks on my tongue in that way that makes me a little crazed with lust while her hands make quick work of my belt and jeans.

Reaching back behind my neck, I tear off my t-shirt. She grabs my neck and pulls me down to kiss her again while she handles me with long, confident strokes. After being together for three and a half years, this girl can still get me off in about two minutes flat if I let her.

“Nope. Not happening.” I grab her wrist and place a kiss on her palm before I reach down for the hem of her shirt. She looks up at me shyly. I can see the hint of insecurity in her eyes. Which is crazy because she’s just as hot now as she was before. “Babe, I love your body. You look amazing. Would I be this hard if you weren’t?”

I stroke my cock and her eyes widen. She loves when I do this.

Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and then she nods and pulls off her t-shirt.

A groan escapes me when I see her. My hands immediately fall to her full breasts, and I take care to not be too rough. Maddie likes it rough, but we’re doing this my way. I’ll get her there in the end, so my girl will just have to compromise.

“Scoot back.”

She leans back on her elbows, and I kneel between her legs and hunch over her, taking my time to kiss a wet trail over her soft skin. When I reach her breasts, she falls back farther and threads her fingers into my hair.

I suck on her taut nipple, and she tightens her grip. And while there’s nothing more I want to do than unravel my little wildcat, when I reach her swollen stomach, my breath catches in my throat.

“Hi, little slugger,” I choke out before I rest my head on Maddie’s tummy, being sure to not put too much weight on her.

She strokes my hair, and I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the many blessings in my life. She’s eight months pregnant, and I want to spend every waking hour with my wife before he arrives.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle leaving her for the Super Bowl in two weeks, but I’ve already chartered a private plane back. Maddie wants to come, but I’m worried the stress of traveling will be too much.

“Are you okay?” she whispers. “You haven’t iced down tonight. I got carried away. We really should be icing your shoulder.”

God, I love this woman. She always puts me first. Which only makes me raise her pedestal higher. “I’m fine, baby. I just love you so much I can’t stand when we’re apart. Especially when you’re like this.”