Whisky Throttle (Throttle Series, #1)

thirty-five

Calla

I pace the length of the picnic table, wringing my hands while I wonder where Maddox is. Vance and I shouldn't have let him go home alone. I'm worried Roman has done irreversible damage to his son. What if Maddox retaliated and ended up being shot? What if he's bleeding to death on the floor as I talk to myself? Frustrated, I tug at my hair. Maybe I made a mistake pushing Isaiah to train Maddox. Or maybe I subdued Maddox's pleas for me to back off too harshly. It's funny how all of our issues stem from my inability to prevent my stubbornness from shining.

Just as I'm about to sit down and dwell in my own self-loathing, I see headlights on the horizon. A wave of hope crashes through me as the engine gets louder and the lights get brighter. The proximity of the lights are far enough above ground to be a truck, so I hold my breath, hoping and praying the driver turns in my direction.

When the truck turns and pulls into the parking spot, my heart lurches to my throat. The engine is cut and the headlights turn off. Maddox is back! I turn away from the picnic table and rush over to his truck, doing my best to avoid roots and upturned rocks as I clamber through the dark.

Just as I come around the corner, Maddox climbs out of the truck and closes the door behind him. He's got a bag of takeout resting on his hip, but I don't care. "Fuck, Maddox," I say, barrelling into him. Our collision is so forceful that Maddox's back knocks against the door of his truck and he drops the takeout bag. He expels a muffled oomph from his mouth. I tangle my fingers in his hair and hold him close. "I was so worried about you. From now on, you're not going home alone. Vance or I will come along. Fuck the consequences."

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. "I'm okay, Calla," he replies, hugging me. "I'm okay."

Because Maddox has used that saying on me many times and he's been far from okay, I step back and take his face in my hands. There's a small welt on the corner of his jaw, but I see no black eyes or bloody cuts. No broken nose. Keeping my gaze locked with his, I slip my hands under his shirt and feel for any swelling. His grip tightens on my waist as a shiver cascades through his body. The only time I break my gaze with his is when I pull his shirt up and inspect his torso for any bruises. Aside from the faint patterning of his old bruises, there's nothing that worries me.

I release his shirt and stare up at him in amazement. "You're okay."

Maddox smiles at me, pulling me in for a kiss. It catches me by surprise, but I melt into his hard, passionate kiss, parting my lips so I can feel his tongue against mine. I loop my arms around his neck and press my body to his, relishing in the way his body is reacting. After Saturday night, things have changed between us. There's no more hesitation with touch. No more unsaid questions. We're on the same playing field now, and I'm wanting more. I roll my hips against his.

"Calla," he groans, sliding his hand up to cup my face.

I want nothing more than to succumb to his charm and genuine heart, but my eyes catch a streak of dark red. Before he can make another move, I grip his wrist and stare at the streaks of dark red, almost brown, in every crease of his knuckles.

"Maddox," I gasp, staring at the blood on his knuckles. "What happened?"

He glances down and flexes his left hand. "Oh. That. Right."

My brow furrows in confusion. He's calm about there being blood coating his knuckles. It's unnatural. "What happened?" I repeat.

"I broke my dad's nose," he replies sheepishly. "He came after me and I stopped him. Your brother-in-law is an excellent personal trainer. I have to say, though, I'm sore from all those goddamn push-ups."

I feel one more wave of shock before it's replaced by joy. "Maddox!" I squeal. "Are you serious? Isaiah's lesson helped?"

"It did," he chuckles. "The only damage Dad did this time was punch to the face. My jaw's a little sore, but it's nothing compared to the usual physical and emotional pain I endure after seeing him." He pauses, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. "I am concerned about him retaliating, though."

I don't give a fuck about Roman Kase. Maddox stood up for himself! I throw my arms around him and kiss him again. He has to grip the side mirror to keep up standing. "Calla," he murmurs against my lips. "Thank you. You can be too forceful with your opinions and words, but thank you for making me see reason. It feels good to have power for once."

My eyes well with tears. "I'm so proud of you."

He wipes away a tear with his thumb. "Calla," he says. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since Saturday. I'm not using my milestone as an excuse and nor am I asking for an award, but I—"

I press my finger to his lips, a giddy feeling seeping through my body. "Vance is asleep, and the trailer is open."

He glances at the trailer and exhales deeply. "I'm up for it if you are."

Although I am nervous, I know what I want this time. And although it's only been two days since our overnight camping trip, time has nothing to do with my decision. Neither does Maddox's surge of courage. Our relationship is where my decisions stem from. I trust this man standing before me with my life. He's proven to be dependable repeatedly. Just like we've proven to bring out the best in each other. We fuel each other to become better, successful people. I want my first time to be with Maddox. 

Tracing his broad cheekbone, I stare in to his deep green eyes and I whisper, "Take me to bed."