CHAPTER 71: BATHROOM INTRODUCTION!

"Thanks, Maria," I said, heading up the marble staircase two steps at a time.

Madison’s bedroom door was cracked open, and I could see her buried under approximately six different silk pillows, her dark hair spread across the bed like she was posing for some expensive lingerie commercial.

Even in sleep, she looked like she should be on a magazine cover.

Sleeping Beauty had nothing on this girl. She is the most beautiful thing ever!

"Madison," I called softly, pushing the door open.

"Go away," she mumbled into her pillow with the authority of someone who’d never been told no in her life. "It’s Saturday. Weekends are for sleeping until noon."

"It’s 11:15," I pointed out, sitting on the edge of her massive bed.

"Exactly. Still fifteen minutes of legitimate sleeping time left."

I leaned down and kissed her shoulder, exposed by the silk pajama top that had shifted during the night. Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled like expensive shampoo and something that was just... Madison.

Like money and secrets and trouble all wrapped up in designer perfection.

"Morning, beautiful," I whispered against her ear.

She rolled over to face me, her eyes still heavy with sleep but brightening when she saw me like I was her favorite surprise. "You’re early."

"I missed you."

"Bullshit," she said, but she was smiling that smile that could probably end wars or start them. "You just wanted to wake me up because you’re one of those psychotic morning people."

"I’m not a morning person. I’m a Madison person."

Smooth as peanut butter, Carter.

"That is terrible," she said, pulling me down for a kiss that tasted like mint and promises and everything I’d never known I wanted. "But I’ll allow it because you’re cute."

The kiss started out innocent enough—just a soft brush of lips, a sleepy good morning from two people who’d said the L-word for the first time the night before. It should’ve ended there. A cute, quiet little moment. But then Madison’s hands slid up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair with this slow, deliberate possessiveness that made something in my chest throb like a detonator counting down.

She gripped tight, not like some shy girlfriend, but like a woman who’d decided this mouth, this moment, this man—was hers.

She pressed harder, her body flush against mine, and my arms found her hips without even thinking, fingers tightening like I needed to keep her tethered before the whole world gave out beneath us.

My blood was running too hot, my control was slipping too fast, and the second she gave my hair another firm tug—like she knew what that did to me—I growled into her mouth, low and primal and completely out of character.

And just like that, everything in me flipped.

The world tilted. My hands slid to her waist on instinct, fingers digging into her hips like I needed to anchor her to me or lose my mind.

This wasn’t a kiss.This was claiming.

And the worst part? I liked it. Too much.

She tugged at my hair again, and I groaned into her mouth—low, involuntary, like she’d found the switch that rewired my entire self-control.

Cute morning kiss, my ass.This girl was trying to start a fire before breakfast.

And here we go.

"You know," Madison said against my lips, her voice getting that sultry edge that meant trouble, "I never got to properly thank you for yesterday."

"Thank me for what?"

"For listening. For understanding about the family business shit. For making me feel like I’m more than just some spoiled rich girl."

You are so much more than that, and it’s honestly terrifying.

Her hands were moving now, trailing down my chest with deliberate intention that made every nerve ending fire like the Fourth of July. The morning light streaming through her massive windows made her skin look like it was made of gold and secrets.

"Madison," I said, my voice getting rougher as she kissed along my jawline like she was mapping territory.

"What?" she whispered, her breath hot against my ear in a way that made rational thought impossible.

"We should probably—"

"Probably what?" She pulled back to look at me, her eyes dark with want and mischief and something that looked dangerously like love. "It’s Saturday morning, my parents are in San Francisco, Maria’s downstairs making grocery lists, and I have a very comfortable bathroom with a very large shower."

Very large shower. Jesus Christ, she’s trying to kill me.

My brain completely flatlined.

"Are you suggesting—"

"I’m not suggesting anything," Madison said, getting up from the bed with fluid grace that should’ve been illegal in at least twelve states. "I’m telling you that I’m going to take a shower, and if you happen to join me, well... that would be a very nice coincidence."

She walked toward her bathroom, and fuck me, those silk pajamas were clinging to curves that had been driving me insane since the moment I first saw her. At the doorway, she paused and looked back over her shoulder with a smile that was pure sin wrapped in designer innocence.

"The water pressure in here is incredible," she said. "Very... stimulating."

And she’s gone. Game fucking over.

Then she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me sitting on her bed with my heart hammering and my brain trying to process what had just happened while simultaneously planning my next move.

I could hear water running, steam starting to drift out from under the door like smoke signals spelling out "get your ass in here." Madison’s voice carried over the sound of the shower:

"Peter? You coming?"

The fastest I’ve ever moved in my life!

I was off that bed faster than Connor Hayes jumping on viral TikTok trends.

The bathroom looked like something out of a luxury hotel—marble everything, gold fixtures that probably cost more than my family’s rent, and a shower that looked more like a small spa room with multiple heads and glass walls that were already fogging up with steam.

Been here before but still... Rich people don’t just shower. They have experiences.

Madison was silhouetted behind the frosted glass, and even just her outline was enough to make my brain forget how to function. The steam was making everything look like some erotic art installation, and I could see the perfect curves of her body moving as she adjusted the water temperature.

This is how people die. Heart attacks from pure visual overload.

"You joining me or just gonna stand there staring?" she called out, her voice echoing off the marble walls.

"I’m coming," I said, my voice cracking slightly like I was going through puberty again.

"Not yet you’re not," Madison replied, and I could hear the laughter in her voice. "But give me a few minutes and that might change."

This girl is going to be the death of me.