Free Madison's Quest by Jory Strong Page A

stadiums. They were going to top the Billboard charts with songs
that went gold. Her songs.
    The songs were her ticket. She didn’t have the mad guitar
skills that Elijah did, but she was good enough to play in whatever band he was
in so they could be together.
    She knew it in her heart. She believed it totally.
    Which was why going to hear Smash and watch them perform
was so important.
    It was a different kind of learning. More useful than
struggling to stay awake while Ms. Takakura scribbled numbers on the blackboard
or Mr. Collins droned on and on about people who’d died hundreds of years ago
and were totally irrelevant.
    She closed her eyes, let the tunes filling the car fill
her head and chase the guilt away. Excitement built the closer they got to
Virginia Beach. And when they reached it… They weren’t the only ones who’d
skipped school for an outdoor concert.
    See, it’ll be okay, she told herself, silently sending
the message to her parents.
    She was so so glad she and Eli were there, listening to
the warm-up bands. Singing every song when Smash was on stage. Elijah phantom
playing the guitar. Her doing the same, leaning in and singing into an
imaginary mic.
    She hated for it to end.
    Hung onto the natural high of it as they drove toward
home, Smash playing in the MINI as they relived the concert.
    Only the closer they got to Richmond, the louder her
heart beat.
    It thundered in her ears. Became the screech of brakes
and her own scream.
    Madison bolted from the nightmare, not that she’d ever be
able to escape what came next.
    Lying trapped in the twisted remains of the MINI. Elijah—
    Tyler appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his hair
sleep-mussed, his bare feet visible below his jeans, a gun in his hand.
    “You okay?”
    “Nightmare. I take it I screamed?”
    “Yeah.”
    He rubbed his chest and the desire she’d felt earlier
returned with a vengeance, this time tangled in a need for comfort, for escape.
    She leaned forward, hugging her knees.
    It brought Tyler deeper into the room.
    He put the gun on the nightstand then sat on the bed, his
side touched to her forearm. “Want to talk about it?”
    Not the nightmare. She’d expected it, though it’d been a
long time since it’d caused her to scream. Not whatever was going on between
him and Shane—or more accurately, what was not going on. Not the fact
that she couldn’t have the happy-ever-after, not yet, not when the dream was a
reminder that the music had to come first after making sure her parents didn’t
lose the house.
    “Hey,” Tyler said, pushing her hair off her face. “Want to
talk about it?”
    The light brush of his fingers against her cheek was enough
to obliterate the reasons she should deny the need. The tenderness in his voice
was balm and glue.
    She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think, didn’t want
to remember.
    What she wanted was to feel. To stop fighting the
attraction.
    She met his eyes, unclasped her arms from around her knees.
    “What if we do this instead?” she said, reaching, tangling her
fingers in long strands of blond hair.
    His lips parted.
    Heat slid into her breasts. Her nipples tightened, stabbing
against the peach-colored sleeping tank in an erotic demand to be noticed,
touched, sucked.
    His eyes said yes even though the word hadn’t left
his mouth.
    She didn’t tug. Didn’t pull him to her, and that made the
arrival of his lips all the more satisfying.
    He whispered kisses across her cheek, pressed open-mouthed
ones along her neck, denying her the instant oblivion she craved.
    She nearly whimpered, nearly whispered please , but
didn’t, something inside her preferring to flirt with danger, with a desire
that could only become a craving for deepened intimacy, for continued intimacy.
    A sucking bite sent sharp need streaking to her swollen sex.
Her back arched, she cupped her breast, captured the nipple between her fingers
and longed for Tyler’s touch to replace hers.
    He lifted his