It Burns Within Us | Wildfire Series Book 1

E I G H T E E N

B R E N

There was some part of my intoxicated brain that realized I was no longer thinking rationally.

Everything I felt for Madie was taking over. I needed her to wake up and realize she was worth more. I needed her to realize that she was worth everything. Never before had I felt this way. Maybe it was some weird manifestation of my past fears, but I knew that wasn't the only thing. 

I almost wished it was.

And now I'd confessed things that I probably shouldn't have. She hadn't said much in return, but I hadn't expected her to. I wasn't embarrassed, though. Fuck, I was just relieved I didn't have to pretend anymore. I didn't have to think so hard around her. 

Walking the short distance between the showers and Madie's room with only a towel wrapped around my waist, I realized I definitely wasn't thinking now.

Logic had clearly left the chat.

Quickly sliding into her room, I closed the door behind me before promptly flattening myself against it. At the sight that greeted me, I dropped my collection of wet clothes. They hit the tiled floor with a resounding smack.

Madie didn't hear. How did she not hear? She was on the opposite side of the rectangular room, bent over an open dresser drawer, searching for something.

Clothes, I figured. Because she wasn't fucking wearing any—nothing besides an oversized white t-shirt and a black thong, meaning her round ass was on full display.

I tightened my grip on the towel around my waist and cleared my throat. Logic would probably say I should just turn around and leave, but logic was gone. In its place was an impulsivity that scared me. The space between Madie and I was a dark, murky ocean. The depths were unknown, but shit did I want to jump in.

"Madie." My voice was dry and raspy, and I tried to clear my throat for a second time.

At the sound of her name, she jerked upward, spinning around with apparent surprise. But then her look of shock melted away.

She stood there, not trying to cover herself—not trying to hide a thing, actually. Madie took her time surveying me, her eyes lingering in a way that only added fuel to the fire I felt for her. Droplets of water trailed down my chest, and I swear she followed that trickle all the way down until it hit my low-riding towel. Some of the water was hitting the ground, making tiny splashing sounds.

I was already wet. What was the point of withholding myself from jumping all the way in?

So I stared back at her, even knowing I should stop. But she was letting me, practically inviting it, and I didn't want to resist. My own eyes flicked over her, absorbing a sight I knew I'd never see again.

She must have brushed her hair out; the damp strands hung limply around her shoulders, dripping down. It made her white shirt cling to her skin, translucent from the trail of water. Madie wasn't wearing a bra. Her chest rose and fell, the movements as heavy as her blue gaze. Her nipples peaked against the thin fabric, and I was absolutely done for.

Tensing my jaw, I tried to find enough control to speak.

"Madie, clothes?" It was all I could manage. I wasn't sure if I meant clothes for me or clothes for her, but we needed some fucking clothes. Not because we were cold, though. 

She didn't reply, and I didn't move. Her hooded eyes grounded me to my spot by the door. My breathing was in time with hers, rising and falling to the beat of the moment.

Clothes—we needed clothes. 

"How do you do that, Bren?" she finally whispered.

"Do what?"