Liam's POV.
'F*ck me'
I can't believe what I just did, I was on the verge of losing control.
Madeline's maddening scent still lingered around me like a sweet, intoxicating, and absolutely edible fruit.
But a forbidden one.
A forbidden fruit.
I had to walk away before she could notice the tent forming in my pants; these two weeks were going to be far from being enjoyable.
I shouldn't have let my emotions control me, I hated how she brought up Alexandra, though it was indirect, it still pricked me.
Reminding me over and over again why she was better without me, Mum was wrong there needs to be distance between us.
But it was too late, we were already here, and there was barely anything I could do.
I walked towards the beach, my slow steps turning into a sprint as I crashed into the waves. The beach was barely a kilometre from the villa.
The salty water entered my nostrils, drawing me away from my thoughts.
From Madeline's lips.
The waves came harsher and harsher, I stripped off my shirt placing it on a rock nearby as I went deep into the waters.
I needed this cold, this distraction- Madeline.
She didn't even try, didn't even know.
The kind of effect she had on me, her emotional rawness, the ability to knock sense into me, to call me out for the mistakes I made.
The way her brown eyes look up at me, not knowing that she has me wrapped around her finger, no matter how hard I try resisting it.
Since she came into my life, I felt disgusted to look at any other woman, it made me feel ashamed of my past, the person I was.
I submerged myself in the water for a few seconds before coming to the surface, my hands brushing through my hair.
'Two weeks.'
Two whole weeks with Madeline in that villa.
I let out a laugh, regretting the decision.
Because I was already losing all my self-control like an animal during heat.
By the time I started walking to the villa, the sun was setting, and it cast a beautiful glow, reminding me of her again.
I shook my head, setting a few rules for myself.
'No kissing. No touching. No hugging. No thinking about how perfect she looked in that dress. No thinking about how she perfectly fit in my arms.'
My shirt dangled in my hand as I kept walking, and the villa's lights were on.
What would she be doing inside?
'Unpacking?'
'Exploring the place?'
'Maybe unbothered.'
But all I knew was I had to go back to her.
And that felt both like a curse and a comfort.
Reaching the villa, I slowly opened the doo,r but nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me.
Madeline was sleeping on the couch, her shorts barely doing anything to cover up her thighs, a soft, fluffy blanket covering her torso.
I almost cursed out loud.
My hands were itching to cover her up with the blanket, but I was too afraid that she would wake up, so I walked towards the kitchen to make dinner.
Going through the confectionery, my eyes landed on the ready-to-make brownie mix, resurfacing a special memory.
17 years ago.
We were just four years old.
Madeline had come over to our place for the afternoon, something about our mums needing girl talk time.
I remember the way she marched into the kitchen with those two little pigtails bouncing behind her, red ribbons tied around them like always.
It took her no less than a minute to spot the ready-to-make brownie mix on the kitchen counter.
"Let's make these!" she'd said, her tiny hands already reaching for it.
"No, you're not supposed to do it without adults," I'd told her, but she would never listen to me.
She just looked at me with that grin and said, "We'll be very careful. Promise."
But we were definitely not careful.
The mix went into the bowl with a cloud of cocoa powder floating around us like smoke. I remember her giggling as she stirred, flinging batter in every direction. The kitchen looked like a chocolate warzone.
I leaned in too close to the bowl, and that's when it happened.
She dipped a finger in the batter and wiped it straight on my cheek.
"Hey!" I yelled, shocked.
"You always pull my ribbons."
Maybe I did. So what?
I reached for the batter and spread it across the tip of her nose.
She gasped as she dipped her entire hand into the bowl.
That was it. The beginning of the chaos.
Within minutes, we were both covered. Her ribbons stuck to her batter-smeared face. My shirt was ruined. The kitchen didn't seem like the kitchen at all.
Mum found us half an hour later, lying on the floor, sticky and content, Madeline's head on my shoulder as we waited for "our" brownies to finish baking, though we couldn't really reach the oven.
We were too short.
__________________________________________
That memory felt like another life.
I blinked, coming back to the present, the warmth in my chest slowly spreading, even as I stood alone in this new kitchen.
Madeline was still asleep on the couch.
Her ribbons were gone now. She wore her hair loose or tied back in a way that made her look older.
But sometimes when she laughed,rarely that too. I still caught glimpses of that messy little girl who once made brownies with me.
I grabbed the box and started preparing the mix. I wondered... if she woke up to the smell of brownies, maybe she'd smile.