Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers #4) (2 page)

The crowd exchanged money, and then, in mass exodus, left for the kitchen where the kegs were tapped and flowing.

Tyler Maddox approached me in a damp and blood-smeared shirt. His eyes and nose were shadowed by his hat. He began to speak, but I gripped a fistful of his shirt and pulled, planting a hard kiss on his mouth. My lips parted, letting his hot tongue slip inside. He reacted like I knew he would—carnal electricity between us—as he gripped the back of my hair, tilting my head up toward him.

I shoved him back, keeping a grip on his shirt. He waited, unsure of what to expect. With a wry smile, I took a step backward, letting my hand slip from the fabric down his arm, and then pulled on his hand. His hands were rough, his fingernails bitten to the quick. I couldn’t wait to feel the coarseness against the soft parts of me.

One side of Tyler’s mouth pulled up into a grin, and a deep dimple appeared on his left cheek. He was the kind of beautiful you couldn’t buy, with his golden-brown eyes and square, scruffy chin—a symphony of perfection only flawless genes could compose. There were plenty of beautiful people in my circles, with access to the best products, stylists, spas, and cosmetic surgeons, but Tyler was real—effortless and raw.

I quickened my pace, climbing the first step backward.

Tyler glanced up from the base of the stairs. “Where are we going?” I didn’t answer, but he still followed. I could have been leading him to his death, but I could tell Tyler Maddox was afraid of nothing. “What’s up there?” he asked, still climbing.

“Me,” I said simply.

He began to move with purpose, his eyes turning from amused to hungry. I twisted the knob of the master bedroom and pushed through, revealing my parents’ California king and two dozen pillows.

“Whoa,” Tyler said, looking around the room. “This house is nuts. Whoever lives here must make bank. Friends of yours?”

“This is my parents’ house.”

“You live here?” Tyler asked, pointing to the floor.

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, fuck. You’re Ellison Edson. Like the
Edson Tech
Edsons?”

“No, I’m just Ellie.”

“Your dad is like on Fortune 500, isn’t he?”

“Don’t really want to talk about my father right now,” I said between kisses.

He held me at bay. “Sorry about the painting, and the table … and the vase. I’ll replace them.”

I reached down, cupping the hardness behind his jeans. “Stop talking.”

Tyler refocused, reaching down to slide his hands between my leggings and bare skin, his fingers knowing the perfect place to pause and explore. I kicked off my boots, humming while his fingertips glided more easily, slick with my desire for him.

The end of the bed touched the backs of my thighs, and I leaned back, yanking Tyler on top of me. I’d kissed dozens of lips before that night, but none of them had felt like they’d been starving for me, and had been for a long time. Every part of my skin Tyler touched seemed purposeful. He was anything but nervous, as practiced as I was at ripping buttons and pulling at fabric.

The second my bra and panties were tossed to the floor, I yanked down his boxer briefs. He kicked them off the end of the bed, and we rolled. I straddled him, both of us panting and smiling. My red lipstick was smeared on his mouth, and my insides tensed, begging for him.

“Where the hell did you come from?” he asked in awe.

I raised an eyebrow, and then looked over at his jeans hanging halfway off the bed. I reached over, searching his pocket with my fingers and grinning when I touched a foil packet. “Slow your roll, Maddox. I haven’t come yet.”

Three deep lines formed on Tyler’s forehead as his eyebrows shot up. He watched me tear the condom package with my teeth, and then his eyes rolled back in his head as I used my mouth to secure it in place.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He lifted his hips as I put his entire length into my mouth and throat. His fingertips raked through my hair and pulled, and I hummed against the latex. He arched his back, sending his tip even deeper.

I climbed up from his lap, straddling him again, gripping his girth and lowering myself slowly, watching the warmth and wetness of my insides overwhelm him. He had done this many times before, but not with me. Tyler looked like the type to take charge, the kind of guy who pleasured his women until they futilely begged him for more. But he couldn’t give them more, and that was exactly what I liked about him—aside from the fact that he was insanely hot and knew how to touch my sensitive parts like he was the architect who’d built me.

His fingers dug into my hips, and I could tell he was trying to relax my pace. He wouldn’t admit he wanted me to slow down. He was close, but so was I, and some asshole was knocking on the door, calling his name. He wasn’t leaving until he’d finished what I’d started.

I was panting hard, moaning every time my ass slammed against his lap, and when Tyler came, he came hard, gripping my ass as he arched his back. He was so deep it hurt, but I circled my hips until I tumbled over the edge. I dug my fingers into his chest, smiling with an open mouth, unable to control the cries ripping from my throat.

Tyler spread my thighs and tensed his ass, pressing into me further. He growled a string of expletives, and then relaxed, exhaling after catching his breath. He looked up at me, sleepy and satisfied. “God damn, woman.”

I leaned over, lifting my leg, and then crawled off the bed. He watched me dress as he lay on his side, ignoring the knocking on the door.

“I, uh … I work a lot. I’m on the Alpine Hotshot crew, and—”

“So?” I fastened my bra behind me, and then stepped into my underwear.

Tyler paused, trying to decide what to say next. “So … are those Calvin Kleins?”

I looked down at the extra small men’s tighty whities I’d slipped on. Lace, thongs, cheekies … not my thing. “Yeah?”

He chuckled. “So, uh … I won’t be able to … you know—”

“Call? That makes two of us.”

Tyler stood up and began collecting his clothes while the pounding from the hall began again. “Maddox! You in there?”

“For fuck’s sake, Zeke! Hang on!” he said, pulling on his jeans.

He was waiting for me to dress before opening the door, but I’d barely pulled my T-shirt over my head before his friends opened the door.

One of the men, a bit shorter and a lot bulkier, nodded to me, and then—realizing I was half naked—stared at the floor. “You ready or what?”

“I’m ready, Zeke,” Tyler said, grinning at me.

Zeke pointed behind him with his thumb. “They’re tearing up the place. Want us to help you get them out of here?”

I shook my head. “I have a great cleanup crew.”

“I don’t think they can clean your couch. There’s down feathers all over the floor.”

“I’ll buy a new one.”

Tyler frowned. “Let’s put a stop to that shit.”

Zeke nodded. “And then we’re going.”

Tyler winked at me. “Thanks for the, um … pleasant surprise.”

“I’d say anytime, but neither of us call.”

Tyler breathed out a laugh, looking down, and then back up at me from under his thick lashes. “I guess. See you around, Ellison.”

“It’s Ellie. And probably not.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “Good night.” He took a step back and closed the door.

I sat on the mess of sheets, blankets, and throw pillows that was my parents’ bed. Tyler’s condom was hanging halfway off the rim of my mother’s wastebasket next to her vanity by the door. Tyler was a terrible shot.

I curled into the fetal position, shedding tears no one would see. Crying, not because I was ashamed, but because I knew no matter how trashed the house would be, or how horribly I’d disrespected my parents’ room, they wouldn’t be angry. They would forgive me, and pity me. I would forever be their perfect little girl. The louder I screamed, the tighter they’d mash their hands over their ears.

Someone knocked on the door, and I called for them to come in. Standing in the threshold was Paige, looking lonely and desperate.

“Room for one more?” she squeaked.

I pulled back the blanket and sheets. She smiled and then hurried to lie beside me. I wrapped my arms around her and relaxed as she kissed the inside of my wrist.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “What is it like? To live in a house like this? To live this life?”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Close your eyes.”

Paige reached back, wedging her hand between my wet thighs.

“I saw him come downstairs,” she said.

“So you decided to come up?”

“I knew he wouldn’t stay.”

“I didn’t need him to.”

“I do,” she said, “need people to stay. You can pretend I’m him … if you want.”

“I’ll pretend you’re you,” I said, kissing her temple.

Paige relaxed in my arms, settling in while the bass throbbed through the floor. After a few minutes, the music abruptly turned off, and I knew Tyler and his friends were ending the party and kicking everyone out.

Not long after, Paige’s breathing evened. I closed my eyes, pulled her closer to me, and sunk into oblivion.

CHAPTER TWO

I was just making my way to my father’s pristine black Audi when the first van arrived. Men and women filed out, their boots crunching against the snow as they carried buckets, vacuums, and boxes of cleaning supplies into the house. Felix, my father’s assistant, had already expedited the new sofa.

My parents wouldn’t be in Estes Park from Rome for another week, providing plenty of time to get the house back in order. It wasn’t the first time Felix had had to hire crews to clean up after a party, and he was very good at making sure nothing was out of place. Since I was seven, Felix had been the peacekeeper and protector of the family, and doubled as my father’s bodyguard when necessary. Sometimes Felix had to protect Daddy from me.

“Miss Edson,” Felix said, nodding as I approached the drive.

He towered over the Audi, his suit jacket tight around his thick arms. His metal-rimmed glasses were tinted, protecting his eyes from the same sun that reflected off his smooth head. He held a cellphone in his right hand and a clipboard against his chest with his left. No doubt there was a list several pages long of items to be checked off, repairs and orders to be made, all in an effort to provide Daddy with the life he paid Felix to create.

“Thank you, Felix,” I said.

Once I passed, he swept the driver side door open, allowing me to slide inside. The car was warm, already running, making my fur vest and tall boots feel more like overkill than appropriate winter attire.

“All set, miss?” Felix asked. I nodded, and he shut the door.

I gripped the steering wheel and sighed. I hadn’t started a car in seven years—since my driving test. I was sitting inside a vehicle I didn’t own, in front of a house I didn’t own, on land I didn’t own … wearing clothes my parents had bought. They owned me, and I let them because it was convenient. Not that I hadn’t tried to buck the system in high school, but arguing meant I wasn’t appreciative, whether or not I’d asked for the things I had.

I grit my teeth and put the car into drive. My bitter inner monologue was constant because I couldn’t say aloud what I was really thinking or feeling. Complaining was offensive to my father and everyone else. I had nothing to complain about. I was the girl with everything. The more money and material things my parents threw at me, the bigger the void became. But I couldn’t tell them that; I couldn’t tell anyone. To have everything and feel nothing was the worst kind of selfishness.

I pulled into the driveway, motoring slowly for a full mile until I reached the entrance of my parents’ chateau. At the press of a button, the copper gate obeyed, swinging toward me, slow and steady. My cell phone buzzed, and a picture of Finley appeared on my screen, her lips pursed in full duck face. She was looking up to fully display her turquoise eyes and thick, authentic mink lash extensions.

I pressed the phone button on the steering wheel, pulling forward through the open gate. “Hey, Fin.”

Finley’s voice surrounded me. “Tired, Elliebee?”

“A little.”

“Good. I hope you feel like shit, you spoiled bitch. Why didn’t you tell me you were having a party last night?”

“Uh, because you’re in Rio?”

“So?”

“I didn’t figure you’d want to waste your Brazilian wax on a random keg party in the mountains with the locals.”

“Is it cold?”

“Definitely not bikini weather.”

“Our hot tub has determined that is a lie. Did you get laid?” She had already forgotten about the mild offense and settled into sister mode.

Finley Edson was the eldest daughter of Edson Tech, and on a direct path to rule with an iron fist that happened to have perfectly manicured nails. We were heiresses, but unlike me, Finley embraced it. Finley was two years older, but she was my best friend, the only one left from our childhood who I could still stomach. The rest had become vapid clones of their mothers.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I said, turning toward downtown.

“Yes, you do. Was it the local you were telling me about?”

“Paige? No. She’s sweet. Too fucked up for me to use.”

“I’m not sure I believe that person exists.”

“She does, and her name is Paige.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Ellie. If we were still at Berkeley, you’d have been all over that just to break her heart. So who was it?”

I cringed at her description, but only because she was right. I’d been the source of pain for most of the people I’d come into contact with, mostly because I didn’t care, but a small part of me enjoyed the temporary distraction from my own pain.

“Do you always have to remind me of my dysfunction?”

“Yes. Don’t change the subject.”

“He’s an Interagency Hotshot guy.”

“A firefighter? Ick.”

“No, not ick. He’s the elite. They deploy them like soldiers to the frontline.”

“That’s kind of hot,” she conceded.

“He was refreshing … let me wipe him off and send him on his way without blinking an eye. And he was hot. So,
so
hot. Maybe a ten.”

“A ten? Like a solid ten, or barely a ten?”