Page 73 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

I hated how dejected she sounded. This wasn’t the peppy, optimistic, fearless woman that usually ran around Dunhope. I knew she was searching for a connection and purpose and home. I knew she thought the answer lay with her biological mother. And despite the failed lesson, maybe it still did. Just…not in this particular way.

“Look, perhaps glassblowing isn’t the answer,” I said, tilting my head to catch her eye. “But that’s not where your mother’s journey stopped. That wasn’t her whole story. From everything you’ve said, it sounds like she lived a pretty adventurous life.” I took her face between my hands, forcing her to hear my words. “Maybe once I’ve locked down all the locations in the photo album, it’ll lead you down a new path. And you’ll find a new hobby or interest that can connect you two.”

Looking into those glassy green eyes, I wanted to do absolutely everything in my power to fix this for her, and I made a note to double-down on my efforts with the photo album. I’d put another researcher on it and have Alfie send me daily updates. Anything to make her smile again.

“This isn’t the end, Madison,” I promised. “It’s just a fork in the path. You know what they say, when one door closes⁠—”

“Someone opens a window,” she muttered. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Or a doggy door,” I quipped, finally getting a watery smile out of her.

She rolled her eyes at me, wiping at her nose.

I stroked away the loose hairs that had gotten stuck in her tear tracks. “Feel any better?” I asked.

She nodded. “I guess. But I also feel sort of gross from all the sweating. I think I need another shower before bed.” She folded back into my arms. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead and following her up to her room. The blankets on her bed were no longer rumpled from last night. Florence must have been through, tidying up after us. As Madison slumped down on the edge of the bed, she still looked incredibly sad.

“What can I do?” I asked, wanting to smooth the frown lines from the corners of her eyes.

“I just want to be close to you,” she whispered. She came to me, pressing up on her toes and running her lips along the underside of my jaw.

“C’mon,” I whispered, inclining my head toward the en suite. I took her hand and pulled her into the bathroom, turning on the shower. While it heated up, we stripped out of our clothing, leaving piles on the bathroom floor, then stepped beneath the warm spray.

I watched Madison’s face crumple, and I could tell she was crying again, the tears getting lost in the water.

“Let me wash your hair,” I said, picking up the peach and pomegranate shampoo from the built-in shelf. I squeezed pink shampoo into my hand, lathering it into a froth. “Turn around.”

She did, shoulders slumped, and I massaged my fingers into her scalp. After a few moments, Madison leaned into my touch, moaning. “You’re good at this.”

“I needed to develop some skills in case my investments fall through,” I teased, gently scrubbing until all her strawberry blonde hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. “Turn around. Time to rinse.”

She turned back to the spray and kissed my chest.

“Head back,” I whispered.

“Alistair’s Salon has a nice ring to it,” she said. Her voice was still a little shaky, but she was trying. “And Kenna and I can do nails.”

I washed the soap from her hair, running my fingers through the strands until the suds disappeared. She smelled divine.

“Is this where your services end?” she asked, turning and picking up her body soap.

I smiled softly, taking the loofa she handed me, soaping her up and smoothing my hands over soft, water-warmed curves. I wasn’t trying to start anything, but Madison leaned into each touch, moaning as I reached her thighs.

“It’s late, and you’ve had a hard day. Maybe we should save this for another time,” I said, my cock twitching at the noises she made.

“Maybe I don’t want to wait,” she said, threading her arms around my neck beneath the water. She arched against me as we kissed, both gasping for breath as rivulets of water ran down our faces. By the time we stopped kissing, I was hard and aching for her touch. “Please,” she murmured. “Alistair, please.”

I nudged her back against the shower wall. She gasped at the cool tiles pressed against her back, then gasped even harder as I sank to my knees, hooking one of her legs over my shoulder.

“Don’t fall,” I said.

She stared down at me with such need, feathering her hands through my hair.

Then I pressed my mouth to her clit, tongue flicking out to tease that aching bundle of nerves. Madison bucked, crying out, and I wrapped my arms around her legs to steady her as I sucked and swirled and dragged her through delicious torture.

When she came, she sagged and trembled. I kissed her thigh, putting her leg back down on the shower floor before she could collapse.