Chapter 4

Madelaine

After dinner, I spent a little time chatting with Hermy in the living room while Ben disappeared upstairs. It was almost midnight when we realized how late it had gotten and that I needed to go to bed.

“You are going to see your dad tomorrow so that you can leave the next day. You should go to bed,” Hermy said.

It felt like an ugly goodbye.

I hugged her.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone with Ben forever. I have a daughter, she’s eighteen too and she would have loved to meet you, but she’s with her dad in Seattle. We will come and visit from time to time as well, and you can always call me to talk anytime.”

“Thank you, Hermy,” I said.

“We should still see each other before you leave anyway. I should get back home,” she added.

“You don’t live here?” I asked.

She looked quite casual and exposed. I was pretty sure there was nothing underneath her robe. I had assumed she lived here.

“There are five mansions in this estate. I live in the one right next to this one. A two- or three-minute walk from here,” she explained.

“Alright. Goodnight.”

She kissed my cheek and then left.

I was all alone.

So I went upstairs to my room.

I can’t sleep alone. I really shouldn’t sleep alone because I get terrible nightmares when I do. Ben had invited me to his room earlier, but I refused and told him I’d be fine sleeping alone.

I wouldn’t be.

But I didn’t want to sleep in the same bedroom as him so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch myself under the blanket.

I kept the lights in my room on as I slipped under the covers and tried to sleep, but I was hyper-aware of everything because of the lights. If I turned them off it would be worse though. I’d be really scared.

Eventually I got up to turn the lights off and immediately rushed back to bed, squeezing my eyes shut.

It wasn’t working.

I was seeing my mom’s face everywhere—rotten and crying.

My chest tightened.

I began to think about alcohol.

Fuck.

I had been doing so well. I can’t relapse.

I started having these nightmares when my mom’s cancer got very bad. I was so scared of her dying that my mind would make up horrible images of her crying with a half-decayed face. The nightmares got so bad that I resorted to pills and alcohol just to sleep.

After my mom died it only got worse.

I became an addict.

My grandma told my dad about it and they got me help.

I’m sober now.

That’s why I never sleep alone—so I don’t relapse.

I squeezed my eyes tighter but the terror swallowed my chest.

I jumped out of bed, turned the lights back on, grabbed my stress blanket, and ran to Ben’s room.

The door was open.

Maybe he was hoping I’d change my mind and come.

I slipped quietly through the doorway.

The room was dark but I could still see well enough to make out his huge frame sprawled across the mattress.

His bed was so big that we would probably never even touch if we slept on it together.

Instead of choosing the daybed by the window, I climbed into his bed and scooted closer to him before laying down.

I immediately felt better.

I turned slightly to face him, staring at him while he slept.

His tattooed arm was resting next to me.

Butterflies swarmed my stomach as my eyes followed the bulging veins that ran along his arm down to the relaxed side of his palm.

I don’t know what pushed me to do it, but I slowly began trailing my fingers over his veins, tracing the lines of his tattoo and hoping he wouldn’t wake up and find what I was doing creepy.

I would never survive living alone with this man without eventually begging him to touch me.

My eyes flicked toward his crotch but I couldn’t see much in the darkness.

I gently rested my palm inside his hand.

My hand looked so small compared to his.

I was sure his cock would be huge… big enough to completely fill me.

Warm wetness spread across my panties at the thought.

Maddy, go to sleep and stop having these lewd, nasty thoughts.

I shut my eyes and let sleep finally drag me under.

The next morning I had my visit with my dad, and after breakfast I rushed upstairs to take a shower and get dressed.

For some reason—which I knew very well—I didn’t shower or get dressed in my own room.

I did it in Ben’s room.

But he didn’t even look at me once.

He sat on the daybed in the corner of the room, scrolling through his iPad and not sparing me a single glance.

I hated it.

Anyway, I moved on to picking a dress and chose the skimpiest blue body-con sundress I could find in my suitcase.

I slipped it on and then wore my socks and trainers.

As soon as I reached behind me for the zipper and struggled to pull it up, an idea popped into my head.

A chance to feel Ben’s touch again.

I felt too shy to go to him, but I forced myself to do it.

I would be spending a lot of time alone with him soon and I needed to be comfortable around him.

So I walked over to him.

“Hi… Doctor, could you please help me with my zipper?” I asked, immediately turning around before I could see his reaction.

“Doctor?” he questioned.

“I’m sorry. I’m not comfortable addressing you by your first name,” I murmured.

He didn’t respond.

Suddenly I felt his fingers wrap around my lower thighs, just above my knees, and then he pulled me backward until I was standing between his legs.

Fuck.

That throbbing between my legs returned.