Madison’s words from last night come flooding back, and the reason why she’s here is because she wants to be. I make her feel safe, and for someone who seems fearful most of the time, it makes sense that she’s drawn to a place that gives her a sense of security.

I don’t know why she’s afraid, but I’ll try my hardest to make sure she’s never scared again. Whether that’s as her friend, or something more, I’ll take whatever she wants to give because, right now, I’m her fucking slave.

“I’m going out for a cigarette.” I reach for the deck off my dresser and open up the balcony doors.

Placing a Marlboro between my lips, I light it and relish in the first much-needed drag. I rest my elbows on the railing and look at the world below, hating how everything looks so simple for everyone, while I’m up shit creek without a paddle.

There was always something more, and I was foolish to choose sex over her because that’s what I did. I could have had Madison, but instead I chose the easy way, because sex is less complicated than…feeling. But now all I feel is my resolve slipping whenever I’m around this remarkable woman.

“Dixon?” Madison’s voice softly sounds behind me.

Taking a final drag, I butt out my smoke and brush away the nicotine-filled air. “Hey,” I reply, but I don’t turn around. I just stare at the world spinning below.

“I’m sorry if I upset you. I shouldn’t have asked. I know how hard it is talking about something life-changing that’s happened in your past,” she confesses, and I nod, but still don’t turn around.

I can hear her bare feet pad across the ground, and when she stands beside me, I feel the regret radiating off her body.

“It’s okay.” I slowly turn to face her.

Out here in the moonlight, she looks so ethereal and pure. Her long, dark hair catches in the slight breeze, and her signature fragrance once again has my sense of smell salivating in desire. Her large green eyes look apprehensive and scared, and I realize she’s worried that I’m angry at her.

“It really is okay. I’m not angry at you,” I confirm, giving her a small smile.

“Are you sure?” she anxiously questions, biting her lower lip.

“I’m sure.” I nod. “Lily is…a touchy subject for me. She’s someone I really want to forget, but I know I never will. But in a way, that’s good, as it’s a reminder of what to avoid in my next partner.”

Madison looks to be deep in thought, but I don’t expect her to reply, because what can she say—get over it, perhaps?

Just as I suggest we go back inside, Madison surprises me by confessing, “Well, she’s a fucking idiot.”

I pull back, stunned, as Madison rarely swears, but I smile, appreciating her impassioned response. “It’s fine. You live and you learn,” I say, which is clichéd, but holds some truth.

Madison, however, doesn’t agree with the saying. “That’s bullshit,” she scowls, lightly thumping her fist against the railing.

I’m surprised by her statement, and allow her to explain.

“What lesson did you learn from getting your heart ripped out by the one person you loved and trusted the most?” she asks, but I know her comment is not a question, but rather a statement.

I remain quiet, because I know there’s more to come.

“What lesson did you learn from her betraying you in unspeakable ways?”

Madison’s breath begins to catch in her throat, and when a choked sob tries to break free, she puts a hand over her mouth, not wanting to show any vulnerability.

“All you learned is that life is one messed-up, sadistic bitch.” A single tear falls down her cheek, betraying the fact that we’re no longer talking about me, but rather her.

The need to comfort her is overpowering, and I’m powerless to stop it. “Hey, it’s okay.” I gently rub her arm and watch more tears fall.

It appears now that they’ve started, they don’t seem to want to stop. But that’s okay; she can cry a river of tears, because I have no intention of moving an inch.

“Let it out,” I say, and without thinking, I step forward and embrace her.

She comes willingly, nuzzling into my body, and the moment I comfort her, the soundless sobs begin to rack her fragile frame.

Her tiny fingers dig into my shoulders while she cries into my chest. I’m not sure how long we stand with her clutching at me like I’m her lifeline, but I don’t care. She can hold onto me for as long as she likes, because each cry seems to lessen her pain.

After a while, her sobs become less frequent until they gradually turn into small sniffles, and then heavy breathing. I don’t know what’s set this off, but it may explain her unusual behavior earlier.

“I’m s-sorry,” she stumbles, her voice small and plagued with discarded tears.

“Why on earth are you apologizing?” I ask, my arms still enclosing her.

“For behaving like one of your patients,” she replies, attempting to appear lighthearted.

“It’s okay. You get the VIP treatment.”

Pulling back slightly, she looks up at me, confused.

“I don’t usually cuddle my patients,” I explain, but fail to mention I have no qualms sleeping with them.

“Oh,” she says guiltily, pulling away.

But I hold on tight, not allowing her to move an inch. “But lucky for us, you’re not one of my patients,” I say, brushing her tears away with my thumb.

“Thank you, Dixon. That’s the first time I’ve cried in a very long time.”

“How’d it feel?”

“Good,” she replies with a sad smile.

“Well, anytime you need this—” I pat my right shoulder “—it’s yours.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Madison’s eyes widen and it appears she’s only just realized she’s been pressing against my bare chest, because she quickly pulls out of my arms and blushes as she looks at my body. Her eyes linger on my stomach, and as they briefly drop down to my crotch, my very attentive body jumps to attention, and things begin twitching below the belt. I’m semi-hard by a look alone.

But I stand proud, because I want her to know this response is elicited because of her.

Madison steps forward, and with apprehensive fingers, she reaches out and touches the dip between my collarbones. The moment her trembling fingers make contact with my skin, I hiss in pleasure because her movements are slow and measured. With the tips of her fingers, she then slowly glides down my torso, stopping just above my heart. I never take my eyes off of her. I’ve never experienced something as erotic, because I know her exploration of my willing body is probably her first time.

With fumbling fingers, she moves to one pec muscle, her pointer finger lightly circling my nipple, while I barely contain the moan caught in my throat. I watch with heated desire as she bites her lip, her small teeth rolling her ruby flesh backward and forward.

But still, I don’t say a word.

She moves across to the other nipple, and as she passes her thumb over it, my dick jumps to attention and I’m now fully hard. Her eyes drop to my tenting sweats and instead of seeing fear, I see desire. I almost come in my pants because it’s a sight worth coming for.

As much as I want to reach out and touch her, I don’t. I remain utterly still and allow her to take control. With delicate apprehension, she slides her fingers down my middle and detours to my ribs, tracing over my tattoo. A single touch has never felt so intimate, and I hum low, about ready to explode.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic. I think it shows what you did in order to survive.” She sweeps her long hair to one side as she bends forward, laying a single kiss on my flank.

Her lips feel like a shot of adrenalin to my starved body, and I shudder under her gentle touch. She lays another kiss, and then another, and another down the length of my tattoo, until her lips rest at my waist. Both of her hands are wrapped around my hips, and she’s bent low to get full access to my obliques. The sensual sight evokes images of her wrapping her lips around my straining dick and bringing this home. But I won’t have her on her knees on this cold, hard floor pleasuring me, because all I can think about is seeing her explode because of my hand.