Chapter 10: Submission Agreement

••~~MADDISON~~••

Sydney used to say I would feel different after losing my virginity. And never mind the stinging ache between my thighs after my shower, she was right.

I felt different.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt good. Not just okay. Not just pretending I was fine when really I was crumbling. But good.

Usually, I’m parked somewhere between bad and worse. That’s my lane. That’s home.

But this morning? My skin buzzed. Like I had been plugged into something electric. Like every part of me had woken up after being asleep for years.

I woke up craving Grandma’s pancakes. The real ones. The ones she used to make when life was still soft and warm and not full of shadows.

So fresh out of the shower, I wandered into Corian’s giant kitchen, wearing his robe, my hair still damp at the ends. His fridge was hopeless.... like, almost nothing in it but water bottles, leftover takeout containers. But I still managed to scrape something together.

I pulled out eggs, flour, milk, whatever I could find, and started flipping golden rounds in the pan. The scent drifted through the air. I swayed a little, hips moving, humming to some random melody I didn’t even know. The tune was just… happiness, maybe. Peace.

God, last night. How do you even describe something like that?

It wasn’t just the way Corian touched me. It was how he made me feel every second of it. Like I belonged to myself for once. Like I was powerful. Wanted. Worthy.

For the first time, I didn’t think of Bernie or his filthy hands on me. For once, the past didn’t drown me.

I only felt him. Corian.

Still felt him, even in the ache, even in the places he hadn’t touched.

I’ll just pretend he never saw the scar on my wrist. I bet he’ll do the same thing too. I guess it'll be our silent deal.

And the things I saw behind the wall after… yeah, I’ll just let time play that one out. My brain couldn’t handle it yet.

I was still humming as I spun to grab a plate when I nearly screamed.

Because there he was. Standing in the doorway like some storm dressed in gym clothes.

Mr. Van Halen.

Corian.

Blue running gear hugged every hard muscle on him, his broad chest damp with sweat, hair slightly messy like he’d just punished the road.

“Shit,” I whispered, heart racing.

He strutted in, dropped a black file on the counter. His brows furrowed in that dangerously sexy way.

“What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” I said, biting my lip without even realizing I was doing it.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, his jaw ticking hard. Almost like he wanted to spank me for doing that.

Then he crossed the kitchen in three strides and boxed me against the counter.

Damn. He loved to do that.

And I didn’t want him to stop.

“I told you not to touch anything,” he gruffed, voice sharp, smelling like sweat and salt and pure man. “Ausley can give you whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “I was craving Grandma’s pancakes… her recipe. Want to try some?”

I lifted my brows, hopeful, trying to charm my way out of the hole I had just dug.

He stared. Hungry. And I wasn’t sure if it was for the pancakes or for me.

Then he groaned and sat down at the counter.

I exhaled like I had been holding my breath for years. My lungs finally came back online.

I plated him a stack, added bacon, poured him fresh juice. He watched me the whole time like I was performing a magic trick.

Like no one had ever done this for him before.

Or maybe it had been so long he forgot what it felt like.

I slid into the seat next to him. His eyes never left me. Not once.

My stomach was supposed to be growling for pancakes. Instead, it was begging for him.

I have never felt this type of desire before. This intense, this powerful, and yet so natural, so easy. Like I was built for it.

Not even with Chad. Not even close.

We didn’t eat. Not right away. We just stared. Heavy. Like a staring contest but dangerous.

Then his eyes drifted.... slow.... down to the thin, pale scar curling along my wrist. The same scar that had made his whole body go rigid on me last night.

His gaze stayed locked there for second before I shoved the wrist under his shirt sleeve, hiding it from him. From me. From the room.

Blinking away, he said, “Eat, Maddison.” No, not said. He commanded it.

There was something about this man that made me shameless.

I licked my lips, bold. “You first.”

His jaw clenched again, that warning stare simmering. But he picked up the fork anyway. Took a bite.

I watched every single second of it like a lunatic, waiting for his reaction.

“Good?” I asked, almost whispering.

He nodded, swallowed, then wiped his mouth with his thumb. “You need to eat too. We have something to discuss.”

He slid the black file across the counter.

My appetite vanished. My heartbeat didn’t.

“What is that?”

“Eat.”

“I can’t when that thing is staring at me like it wants to ruin my life.”

His lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

“The sooner you eat, the sooner you can find out.”

So I shoved the pancake into my mouth, chewing like it owed me answers.

His gaze stayed locked on my mouth, almost predatory, like he was imagining something far filthier than breakfast.

“I’m ready,” I said finally, eyes flicking to the file like it might explode any second. My heart was doing the absolute most.

“Before that…” He smirked, that damn Corian smirk, hand flat on the file, fingers spread like he was keeping it away from me and it only made me more desperate to see what was inside. “There’s one thing you need to know about me.”

And I thought the file was all I had to worry about..

My eyes flicked to his perfectly trimmed fingers pressing over the file, then back up to those smoldering green eyes, and my heart raced like a damn sports car about to crash.