Miles's POV
I find myself sweating with covers on top of me as well ad Madison's body. She's pantsless and wearing my long shirt.
I've always liked it much more on her than I do on me.
I lift her off of me slowly, cradling her thin body in my arms as I place her on the bed again, tucking the covers under her and making sure she won't wake up.
I rub my fingers through my hair.
Fuck.
I'm not entirely sure if what we just did was the right move but I needed her too bad.
There are only ten days until the end of March snd I'm counting, hoping with everything I've got that she'll give me the hundredth chance and that my hundredth apology can mean something this time.
I've done everyone in my life wrong, I've fucked up, but with her, it hurts; it hurts so hard.
I glance at the black watch that tells me it's now almost four am, a time I would have easily waken up at before but right now, I don't have that lifestyle anymore, waking up all night and going to strip clubs or having a phone call at four am telling me I can have some lady fun at a club was a different kind of me; one that didn't have Madison.
Chrissy: "Jacob woke up, thought you'd like to know,"
I ignore the message and place my phone back into the pocket of my jeans before grabbing a bottle of ice-cold water from the huge silver fridge.
The water cools me down and I'm absolutely amazed at the amount of sweat my body is holding, after fucking all night and sleeping under that damned thick sheet, I've done my sweating for the rest of the year.
I take a deep breath before sipping the water and letting it replenish all of me.
I hear noise coming from upstairs and I quickly turn my head, hoping I haven't woken up Madison this late but as soon as the footsteps down the stairs turn heavy, I know it's not her.
I had no idea Sandra and her whore were back.
I take a sharp breath this time, anti updating the whore to be the one coming down the stairs, and when I turn my head; I wasn't wrong.
"I didn't think you'd come back," he says and I huff a fake smile.
He grabs something from the fridge that looks like virgin beer; something I would never drink.
"You know . . ." He begins and I don't know, all I do know is that I don't want to listen to whatever buælshit he's about to spill.
He takes a sip and finally continues, I want this fucking over with.
"Madison is a great girl." He says and I nod. I know exactly where this is going.
"Finding someone like her isn't an easy task for guys like us, and I personally think marriage should be on your mind. Guys like us? I almost scoff at each word, in fact, I'm pretty sure ai do scoff at every syllable leaving his mouth.
"I'm barely twenty-one, marriage is the last thing on my mind," I say strongly, my eyes turned at him.
His cold and tired eyes look at me but I don't bother giving him the satisfaction of watching him too.
"If marriage isn't on the table, you better be ready to lose her," his lips move.
"You know she'll be a good wife someday," David says and I clench the water bottle a little too hard.
"It's too bad she won't be my wife then, I guess."
Madison's POV
I wake up to a loud bang downstairs, it happens once and then twice, and then almost like a rhythm, it continues. My heart starts to race and when I notice Miles isn't next to me as I felt him be seemingly a few minutes ago, I quickly head downstairs.
My black underwear peeks from beneath his shirt as my legs are forced to move fast in order to get me down the stairs as quickly as possible.
"Miles?" I question into the nothingness around me. My fingers slowly slide away from the wall hiding the kitchen from me and when I manage to walk into the space, I'm greeted with Miles facing his back to me, he's shirtless, his hands are bloody as he's gripping the island in front of him.
I watch his strong shoulder blades and the tattoos I was so mesmerized with and so familiar with that now stare back at me with horror, causing shivers up and down my spine a few times.
Broken and shattered glass covers almost the entire island and as I start guessing what has been broken, my eyes dart to the large wine glass pieces on the floor beneath me.
As I stare at his breathing, while he doesn't have the care to look back at me, I realize that he's a beast; the angry beast I've fallen in love with and no matter how vulnerable I am in his presence, no matter how scared I am, I can never leave him.
"Miles?" I ask again, except this time with more purpose.
I see him breathing deep breaths.
"Leave," he says, his tone painfully harsh.
"Miles," I press.
"I thought I told you to leave," he barks in an almost growl and I feel as though he's unrecognizable.
"Leave!" he yells, his voice thick, and right after I register just how painfully frightening his voice is, I hear something smash against the wall beside me, realizing a broken plate is beneath me.
My bare feet tremble and so do my hands and then my whole body, I suck in a deep breath unknowingly trying to calm down every single cell in my being.
"Madison." He breathes, coming closer, slowly. I feel as I did when I first lady eyes on him, and recently he's been triggering those feelings in me because recently we've been going back and forth.
I don't know what to say or how to behave, all I know is that his devilish eyes are raking up and down my body, making me both scared and tempted to be close to him.
I feel my breathing turning shaky but I can't help but just look at him, into his eyes. Blood is dripping down his arms and to his fingers, to his hands.
His fingers reach up to touch my face, raking through my hair softly and pushing it behind my hair.
"I'll never be able to give you anything you want." His voice is barely audible but in the places, I do hear him, his voice is raspy and strong; hurt.
His lips turn from neutral into a smirk and his eyes stare into mine as f they're trying everything they can to make me run away but I won't even if I'm scared of him, I won't run away.
My eyes are on his but the longer we stare at each other, the more intimidated I become, he holds power over everyone.
I quickly look away, not being able to handle the electricity that he's pouring into me, the hardness of his eyes don't let me look at him for too long.
"You are everything I want," I tell him softly and he scoffs.
"Right." He presses his hands against the wall behind me and then pushes himself back, turning away from me.
"I told you to leave," his voice is angry, and then he looks back at me, "I don' want you here." his words are painful, but no matter how I feel, I know they're not true.
"Leave!" He yells and another broken plate is laying by my feet and before I know it everything off the island that can be lifted up is on the floor, the floor is covered in broken glass and I know that if I move, I'll have broken glass under my skin.
"Miles!" I scream but he doesn't listen and a large glass fruit bowl s thrown into the living room.
He opens up the alcohol cabinet and with one loud yell, it's all on the floor, alcohol, and glass spilling everywhere around me.
"Miles stop," I say, my voice shaky and afraid.
He grabs everything off the kitchen, glasses, pots, pans, and everything he can before throwing it one by one on the floor, into the living room wall, and into the dining room.
His tight black jeans cling onto him as the tattoos on his shirtless body stare into me.
His strong bare arms clear the cabinets.
"Oh look, David was hiding a vodka bottle in the cabinet, that's not very fancy is it?" He questions but he doesn't wait for an answer before he stretches his arm with the bottle in his hand to me, but before my fingers even have time to reach back to him he drops the bottle, letting the alcohol and glass shatter around us.
"Ops." He smirks.
"Miles, please." My eyes please and his smirk disappears.
"I only know how to take it too far, haven't you noticed that Madison?" he questions, his eyes dark and threatening again, forcing me to look away from the sharp piercing of hazel.
The cabinets are cleared of anything, everything is empty, the cabinets, the island, the kitchen, everything that can be broken, is, including the both of us.
"Miles, please, stop." I breathe but he doesn't even look at me.
"Then tell me." He says, punching the island as hard as he can, instant purple forming on his knuckles, but he looks as though he can't feel pain.
"Tell me you don't care, tell me you're fine with me never proposing, or getting you pregnant or any of that shit, tell me you're fine with me never wanting you to be my wife, or the mother of my children--"
"I'm fine with all of it . . . I want to be yours, I want to move in with you, and I made that decision the first time I saw you," I breathe and his eyes suddenly look into mine; really look into mine.
He walks across the broken glass, not caring how much blood is dripping from his feet or how much has already fallen from his arms and hands.
He comes close to me, his eyes soft now, and his touch not as harsh as before. He looks down and then his painful eyes stare into mine and for a second get too lost in the to hear what he just said even though I know his lips were moving.
He pulls out something I've always wanted to see him hand me, it's my grandmother's ring.
"This is a promise, that I . . . that you'll always be the only one I'll ever want." He says, his bloody arms reaching to me while his fingers slowly place the ring on my right ring finger that I always thought would be my engagement ring on my left hand but is now my promise ring; his promise to me, something only we will ever understand.