Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 46 List Your Love and Hate Maddox
There was something addictive—downright thrilling—about watching all the weight in the world fall from Sophia's eyes. Watching her say fuck it. Watching her trust me. All those stormy, stubborn sparks she usually held behind her lashes melted under the heat between us, and what it created was a beautiful, dangerous kind of mess.
When she climbed over the middle console of the Ranger and slid into my lap, I grinned like a fuckhead. "Jesus, Sophia," I murmured, voice low, reverent. "You're gonna make me lose my mind. You're so stunning." Outside, the world was silent. No headlights. No noise. Just the kind of quiet that presses into your skin and makes you remember you're alive. I cherished it. This. Her. Us. Reality. I missed it. Missed the kind of softness that leaves a permanent mark on your soul.
Holding onto my shoulders, the cream-colored dress she wore hiked up around her waist, revealing toned thighs and that golden sun-kissed skin that always did it for me. My hands moved instinctively, gripping her ass and dragging her all the way onto me.
"I know," she said, cool and confident. "Give me another compliment."
I laughed under my breath. "You like that, huh? Knowing I'm completely gone for you?"
"I do. It makes me feel like you ache for me. And that feels good."
She makes me feel good. She makes me feel, period.
"I love you," I said simply, looking up at her. "And I love your self-awareness. That you know you're beautiful, smart. That you know your worth. The rarest diamond in the world's worth less than you. I love that I never have to remind you how powerful you are. That you reach for me with your own kind of ache, and somehow—somehow—it makes even me feel still."
Her thumb traced the side of my face, and I leaned into her touch like it was instinct, like my breath needed her skin to exist. "I do need reassurance that you love me, though," she whispered. "I think I'm going to need it more often than I want to admit."
"You'll get it," I promised. "Every single day."
What she didn't know was that she was sitting in the driveway of her future home.
I hadn't told her. Not because I didn't want to—but because I know Sophia. She's like a stray cat—you don't pick one up off the street and toss it inside a house and expect it to curl up on your couch. You leave the door open. You feed it. You let it find you. So I'm doing that. Loving her the way she needs. Letting her figure out what to do with the fact that she's mine. Letting her learn, at her pace, what it means to be loved without condition. She'd probably panic if I admitted this house was ours. Yeah, it's still under construction. Yeah, there's no rush. But it's ours. I'd chase her if she ran—but I'd rather keep walking alongside her with steady feet.
This property—eighty-three acres of space just outside the city—is actually all of ours. When we left Texas, the first thing we did was buy land. Big, quiet, open land. It's what we were used to. Where we're from, your backyard stretches for miles. You sit by the fire, TV on, drink in hand, and not a single neighbor to fake-smile at you from their window. That was our normal. That's what we wanted again. But since Kirsan, Lina, Lily, and Aster were still in school, it made sense to stay city-side for now. But me? I'm selfish. I want out. I want space. I want peace. And I wanted to know if Sophia did too. I prayed she'd say yes.
