Spring Break (Phoebe & Madsen Part 1) Read online

  I lift my eyes to see Kelsey’s expression at the show we’re putting on. Only, she’s turned her back to me and is currently practicing making me a niece with Duncan. So gross. I mean, she isn’t technically having sex with him, but the dry humping is a different story.

  I have two choices: I can pull Madsen’s hands off me and walk off this dance floor straight toward Corbin or let whatever is happening happen.

  My body decides for me.

  I lean into Madsen and lift my arms so that my hands reach behind him and rest at the base of his neck. His lips graze my neck as the beat of the music intensifies along with the goosebumps running down my arms. I swear I feel the lightest kiss land in the sweet spot between my neck and shoulder. Shivers race up my spine, my breath picks up, and my eyes close.

  Before I’m able to really appreciate the way his lips feel on my skin, Madsen spins me around, forcing my hands to land on his biceps. Never skipping a beat, he continues to dance as the next song begins.

  In full disclosure, I am a huge fan of nineties club music. When Magic Mike premiered and Channing Tatum brought Pony back to mainstream, I was thrilled. My favorite song was no longer a secret. I didn’t have to defend my music choices to anyone. Right now, in this moment, on this dance floor with the same song bumping through the speakers, my everything is aware of how damn sexy this song is. Every lyric, every beat, every single chord of music is sex personified.

  I’m drunk without so much as a sip of alcohol. Drunk on this feeling of being in Madsen’s arms. Drunk on the electricity bouncing between us. I don’t dare look into his eyes for fear that they’ll sober me.

  And then it hits me. Literally. In the stomach. Just at my waist. His dick. Sure, that means he’s got a party happening in his pants. I mean, it’s not that video that made its way across campus recently – the one of the guy with the nineteen-inch penis that looks like some sort of weird photoshop gone wrong. I’m still not convinced that video was even real, but regardless, it left an impression. And if I encountered that guy, I’d be running from this bar, this town, and the freaking state like my ass was on fire.

  Focus, Phoebe. But, don’t look up. Don’t. Dammit you don’t listen to yourself.

  I sure don’t.

  I look up through my lashes and find Madsen looking down at me. Specifically, at my lips. Which I instantly lick. Not sobering at all.

  His right hand moves from my hip up my back. Slowly. Too damn slow for my liking. It’s torture. Where will it stop? Mid-back? Shoulders?

  Nope. Under my hair to the back of my neck. A slight tug and my head falls back slightly, forcing me to fully look at him. Lust, hunger, and cockiness mirror my own expression. Nothing good can come of what is about to happen. We’re both horny, arrogant, and stubborn people.

  The perfect storm.

  This moment has been four years in the making. We’ve danced around each other, literally, without much more than a slap on the ass in jest or grazing hand in passing. But, girl, times are a changing. I’m not sure I’m okay with it.

  I’m almost okay with it.

  Then he licks his lips and I’m totally okay with it.

  I’d love to say it was like a romance novel moment. His lips lightly pressed to mine, his tongue gliding across my lips, forcing me to open them, leading me to let out a moan.

  Only, that isn’t what is happening.

  Madsen brings both hands to my neck, this thumbs on my jaw and fingers threading through my hair. The moment his lips crash to mine a part of me dissolves into a puddle on the dance floor. We’ve both stopped moving to the music, the crowd around us dissolving into nothing more than white noise. My hands find the back of his head, my fingers running through his hair, which causes him to release a moan. I don’t hear it, I feel it as the sound skirts across my skin.

  Our tongues plunge into each other’s mouths, a vicious battle between the two. There is nothing gentle about this kiss nor this man. Crashing, all-consuming, clit-throbbing, over-the-top kissing is what this is. Damn, the rumors are true. A kiss from Madsen Secksin is like no other. If I’d known this, maybe I would have let this happen a long time ago.

  I wouldn’t have. That’s a lie. I’m not even certain how I’m letting it happen now, but it is happening.

  I can’t get enough. I want to crawl inside of him. I want to feel his heart beat with mine. I need him to take me where only he can.

  I need him to fuck me.

  Breathless, Madsen and I part. I don’t know how long we’ve been kissing but I know that we’ve made a spectacle of ourselves because over the music I can hear Kelsey screeching and clapping her hands.

  Dear, Lord.

  I rest my forehead to his chest, all the while attempting to catch my breath. What did I just do? I just turned into that girl. I mean, hats off to you ladies that like to get to second base on the dance floor, I’m just not part of your tribe. But this guy and his fucking “just out of the shower” smell. And goddamn hands … the lips ... dammit. I’m that girl.

  “About fucking time. I never thought we’d see the day. Let’s get out of here, babe, these fuckers are jabbing me in the kidney and I don’t want to have to rumble,” Duncan shouts behind me.

  I can’t help the giggles that start. Not only because everyone has been waiting for this storm, but because my brother just used the word “rumble.” He’s such an idiot.

  My head begins to shake from Madsen laughing. I get it together enough to step back. I only make it half a step before he stops me with a hand on my lower back.

  “We aren’t done.” It’s loud in the club and his words are a whisper, but I feel the intensity with every syllable he hisses.

  Nodding, I pivot and walk off the dance floor to where Duncan and Kelsey are waiting. As I approach them, Duncan turns to walk toward the front door when I sense someone staring. I peer to my right and note Corbin looking our way. I offer him a small smile, an apology of sorts, to which he lifts his glass in response.

  “That fucker better watch who he’s toasting,” I hear grumbled behind me. The music hasn’t quieted and, in fact, I think the noise level in the bar has increased since we hit the dance floor.

  Turning on my heel, I poke Madsen in the chest before gritting out a warning. “Look, pal, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” My voice isn’t loud enough for him to hear me, but the expression on my face conveys the seriousness. Madsen leans down so my mouth is near his ear. I inhale the scent of him and my stomach does a weird flip. Pulling myself together, I thrust my shoulders back before speaking again. “I think we need to head back to the hotel before Duncan starts any trouble.”

  “Agreed,” he whispers in my ear, his lips undeniably close to my earlobe. Dear God even his breathing is turning me on. “I don’t need Duncan reenacting a scene from West Side Story or any other movie with a ‘rumble.’” A laugh escapes me as he chuckles at his own comment. More flips and a few flops; thanks, hormones. “I meant what I said, Phoebe. We aren’t done. I’d like to continue this conversation when we get back to the room.”

  “That was a lot of things,” I say, motioning toward the direction we just came from. “But, I really don’t think a conversation was one of them.”

  Madsen pulls back from my ear and offers me that panty-melting smile of his and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers. “Oh, babe, that was so very much a conversation, just not with words,” he declares, following Duncan, not allowing me to respond.

  Taxis are a plenty outside of the club, so securing a ride back to our hotel is easy enough. I squeeze in the backseat with Duncan and Kelsey while Madsen takes the passenger seat. I turn my attention to the city before me as our driver maneuvers his way through the traffic.

  My mind is spinning at Madsen’s last words in the club. He’s right, a lot was said on that dance floor. The way our bodies reacted to one another, the chemistry, that fucking kiss. All of it. I don’t know if going back to our room, to our shared bed, is the best idea. Once we cross the line I know is
inevitable, we’ll never go back to how things were.

  But, is that such a bad thing? I mean, Madsen is a good guy. He’s smart, driven, and when he isn’t being a tool with Duncan and supporting the “Fuckan” persona, he’s a decent guy. Who am I kidding? He’s two points from perfect. He loses two points because he’s my brother’s best friend and because he’s made his way through half of the campus female population.

  He’s also just the right combination of kind and sweet with a big pile of arrogant, sexy motherfucker to make me want to drop my panties. Is that enough? He challenges me. He pushes me to work harder, to be sassier – if that’s possible – and to hold my own. He just made me throw every standard I’ve ever had out the window and dirty dance and make out on the dance floor of a club. That was hot. Hello, confliction, I’m Phoebe, nice to meet you.

  My struggles; they’re real. Real multiplied by a thousand.

  Oh my God. Am I into voyeurism? Is that my kink? No. It’s not like we were doing anything.

  Sigh.

  No really, I sigh. Loud and dramatically. My sigh is so intense, the window fogs up. Gross, why are there so many fingerprints?

  “Phoebes, I think we need a bathroom chat,” Kelsey hisses in my ear. I just nod in response, never looking away from the nasty window, because a chat is the least of what we need.

  “Okay, first I really do have to pee!”

  Kelsey makes a rush toward the farthest stall as we walk into the restroom. I smile at the woman cleaning the counter and shake my head at Kelsey’s requirement to always use a stall farthest from the door.

  I stand at the sink looking at myself. My neck is a little pink from where I assume Madsen’s scruff scratched me. Thinking of him nuzzling my neck causes a tint to rise from my neck to my cheeks. Dammit, I’m blushing. I don’t blush. Maybe it’s hives. I could be allergic to him! Yes! This could solve all my problems. Only, this isn’t like when I eat bell peppers and I get the tickle in my throat. No, this is something completely different. Shit. It is a blush.

  “Whew, I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

  “You know, Kels, if you just used the closest stall…”

  “Eh, no. I’ve explained this to you. Most people that enter a public restroom will go to the closest stall. Therefore, the greatest amount germs are bound to be in that stall. I don’t want to take the risk.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I say, turning to face her as she finishes washing her hands. “You’ll participate in body shots, practically do a mating dance with your boyfriend in a bar, and ride public transportation, but you won’t use the first stall in a public restroom?”

  “Let me have my quirks, Phoebe, even if they are probably false facts.”

  “They are,” I interrupt.

  “Whatever, I let you lust over Madsen for four years and never pushed you to do what you did tonight. Let’s talk about that!”

  “I’d rather not.” My tone is dismissive as I turn toward the mirror to wipe away smudges that don’t exist from under my eyes.

  “Please,” she huffs. “You’d rather talk to me than to him. You know he’s going to expect to fuck your brains out the minute you get in that hotel room. Hell, by the way he was on you at the club, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t try something in the elevator.”

  She’s right. He probably will. And, I’ll probably let him. Oh hey, slutty slutterson, welcome to the party. I focus on the non-existent lint on my skirt before turning to face Kelsey.

  “Kels, I’m such an idiot.”

  “Uh, no. You’re awesome. Madsen Secksin is a catch. I mean, he’s no Duncan Stromberg, but what can you do? I mean, you know how good looking your brother is and he’s so amazing. I mean what he can do with his …”

  “I get it. Please stop before this gets any weirder.”

  “You’re right. Are you okay? I mean, I’ve never seen you react like that to someone. It was really like watching porn, Phoebe. I mean, like the good kind of porn too. Not that cheap shit your brother … sorry.”

  The woman who was cleaning the counters when we walked in just laughed at us and quickly scurried from the room. I don’t blame her. I lean against the counter and pick at my cuticle. Nervous habit.

  “Kelsey, what do I do? I can’t go upstairs with him.”

  “Why not? Look, Phoebe, I need to go and get my own groove on, but listen to me really fast, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “This thing between you and Madsen has been brewing for years. It’s like the longest fucking foreplay ever. Honestly, I don’t know how it’s taken this long for you guys to get together. You’re an amazing person, Phoebe. I love you more than my Coach bags and, you know, that love is deep. We’re going to be family soon so I feel like I say this outside of the best friend zone.”

  I begin to speak but she cuts me off with a finger pointed, stopping me. “I found the ring. I’ll still act surprised, don’t worry. Anyway, what I was going to say is this – You are fabulous and you deserve to be looked at like you hung the moon. Madsen looks at you like that. Sure, you guys bicker and argue; it’s like your weird foreplay. Frankly, I don’t get it, but to each her own. For once in your life, just let it happen. Let him lead and you follow. I have a strong feeling you won’t regret it.”

  Kelsey leaves me standing in front of the mirror of the poorly lit bathroom. I take a few minutes to assess my appearance and allow her words to sink in. She’s right, we have been dancing around this. I’ve already admitted that part. But, let him take the lead? I don’t follow, I’m the leader.

  Maybe that’s your problem.

  Yeah thanks, conscious. Bitch.

  I turn the corner from the bathroom to find Madsen leaning on a pillar in the lobby. This is the same pillar I spotted Corbin at earlier today. I smile at the memory, not because Corbin is something to make me smile, but because Madsen is smiling at me. He pushes off from his perch and meets me halfway.

  Yeah, yeah. Symbolism. Got it.

  Suddenly shy, I stop and look down at my toes. I do love this polish. Madsen takes my hand in his, once again lacing our fingers.

  “You okay?”

  I have no voice. Nothing. Not a squeak nor a hiccup. Nada, only a nod and shake of my head.

  “You are or you aren’t? Hey, look at me,” he pleads, which causes me to look up at him.

  “Let’s just go to bed. Nothing has to happen. Let me just lay next to you. We’ll figure all of this out tomorrow.”

  I say nothing and let him to lead me to the elevators. Uncomfortable silence would make sense at this moment, but it never comes. I allow him to hold my hand and rest my head on his arm. I’m exhausted. Emotionally spent. Nothing has even been discussed and I know I’m already overanalyzing everything. This is what I do.

  The elevator signals its arrival and I follow Madsen into the car. He pushes the button for our floor and pulls the room card from his pocket, never speaking a word. We walk, hand in hand, to our room. He only releases my hand when I step into our room before him.

  We both go through the motions preparing for bed. I finish changing out of my clothes and brushing my teeth before returning to the bedroom. I contemplated sleeping in a pair of leggings, but I’d be miserable and hot. Instead, I pull on a pair of boy shorts and longer tank before exiting the bathroom.

  I slowly crawl into bed, turning onto my side with my back facing the bathroom door while Madsen handles his business in the bathroom. I don’t want to see him when he exits. I don’t need to see him in only boxer briefs. I know that will be enough for me to throw any inhibitions I have right out the window.

  The room is dark when he opens the bathroom door, the light casting a glow into the room. The moment he flips the switch, the darkness blankets me. I feel the bed dip as he climbs in. Then I feel him behind me. Spooning.

  “Is this okay?” His voice is tentative.

  “Yeah.” I almost don’t recognize my voice. It’s too quiet. Uncertain.

  “Phoebe, talk to me
, please.”

  “I’m tired, Mads.”

  “I know, baby, but I need to know we’re okay. If you’re mad at me for what happened, just tell me. But I need to know what’s going on in your head.”

  His body is flush with mine, his chin resting on my shoulder and his arm curled around my waist, resting just above the top of the band of my boy shorts. So natural, a perfect fit. I slowly turn over onto my back, peering up at him, the moonlight offering enough light to allow me to make out his features – his chiseled chin, his kissable lips, and his intense eyes. Each part of him is perfection. Too perfect.

  “It’s a mess in there. You shouldn’t want to know what’s going on in my head.” When in doubt, self-deprecation.

  A small chuckle fills the room and I smile. He gently moves a strand of hair from my face and places it behind my ear.

  “Really, Mads, I don’t know. I’m not mad, not really. I mean, I did do the one thing I mock other girls about. So essentially you turned me into a hypocrite. That isn’t cool and I may never forgive you for that. But the rest, I’m not angry.”

  “Thank goodness. Phoebe, I don’t know that I can go back to how we were. I’ve wanted you for years but,” he pauses, his eyes searching mine. “This week, this trip, something shifted. I … I promised you we’d sleep. Let’s sleep.” His lips graze mine and I barely return the kiss. I can’t. Kissing him is an addiction I can easily succumb to.

  I turn back to my side and Madsen returns to his spooning. I close my eyes, willing sleep to draw me in. My mind is restless but, for some reason, I feel all the fear and tension release itself from my body. I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in a long time.

  Oh dear. That’s a “happy to see me” this morning greeting. I gradually peel my eyes open one at a time. Yep, I’m being jarred awake by the demon in Madsen’s boxer briefs. Hey, buddy, it’s a little early in this, whatever it is, for that kind of greeting.