Chapter 16
(Madison’s POV)
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Days passed like a montage of sass and semi–chaotic domestic nonsense.
Steven and I? Still at war.
We fought over everything. And I mean everything.
*The missing remote (he swears I hide it, I swear the couch eats it).
*Whether to eat salmon or steak (he wants both. I want to not cook both).
*The butler’s briefs situation (he wears silk. I know. Don’t ask how I know).
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We were the perfect storm of rich man pettiness and poor girl sarcasm. A reality show waiting to happen. “Penthouse Wars: The PT and the Patient.”
Then came The Morning. I woke up still groggy, coffee–deprived, but went straight into PT mode because apparently my job starts before caffeine now. Rude.
There he was. On the yoga mat. Shirtless. Glorious. Flexed like a Calvin Klein ad that forgot to put on pants.
I kneeled beside him like a professional. I was focused. Centered. Calm.
Okay no, I wasn’t. He was glistening and smelled like cedar, citrus, and danger. But I was managing it.
We started with arms. Easy reps. Light stretches. Until-
The Yoga Mat Betrayal.
My left knee got caught in the stupid fold of the mat. I wobbled. Tried to catch myself.
Gravity said, “Nah.”
And then-
Boom
My face landed on his.
My lips landed on his mouth.
Like.
Full–on
Mouth–to–mouth
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Chapter 16
Farm–boy lips. Sun–kissed and sin–certified.
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It was seconds. But I swear it felt like slow–motion drama. Like a K–Drama with extra lighting and subtle background music.
His lips?
Soft. Warm. Slightly parted in utter shock.
My brain? Dead. Fried.
Rebooting in real time.
I pulled back with the grace of a cat falling off a windowsill. “Oh–my–gosh–your face–my face–gravity- stupid mat-”
But did he stay quiet?
No.
Mr. Drama Prince McLeon had the audacity to react like I was about to force a shotgun wedding with white roses and matching tuxedos.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was a breach of protocol!”
“Are you trying to seduce me during shoulder stretches?”
“I could report this to HR–if I had one!”
I stared at him. Deadpan. “Sir! You’re shirtless.”
He rolled his eyes, “You smell like rich people and emotional instability.”
“It was an accident.”
But oh no, he kept going. Rambling. Blushing (barely), but looking like he was personally attacked by my lip gloss.
And then-
He paused.
Mid–rant.
Mid–glare.
Because now he was staring at my lips.
Really staring.
11:29 Thu, Sep 18
Chapter 16
And I?
Well, of course I was staring at his too.
Because I didn’t mean to kiss him.
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But now all I could think about was what his lips tasted like.
And if they’d feel just as good pressed against mine on purpose.
So what did I do?
I stood up, sass in my spine, heart in my throat.
“I’m going to the kitchen,” I said sweetly. “You can keep arguing with the yoga mat.”
He blinked. Still stunned. Still staring.
I left. And as soon as I turned the corner-
- Lost. It. I was doing a full internal cha–cha–cha in the kitchen. Like a woman possessed.
My hands were shaking. My face was ten shades of red. My heart? Breakdancing.
But my lips? Still tingling.
Because that kiss? Accident or not…
It changed something.
And we both felt it.
*****
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(Steven’s POV)
What the actual hell. What. The. Heck. Was. That.
One second, I was doing my usual morning PT. Shirtless, yes–because I earned these abs, and frankly, fabric is overrated. I was minding my own business, being tortured (professionally) by my live–in sass goblin-
And the next second?
Boom
Face To Face.
Lips. To. Lips.
Her lips–soft, warm, ridiculously plump, probably wearing the same gloss that’s been distracting me all week -landed straight on mine like fate just body–slammed us both into a rom–com moment.
11:29 Thu, Sep 18
Chapter 16
It wasn’t long.
הם
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Just a few seconds. But it was enough. Enough to send a thousand confused electrical signals into my brain.
Enough to short–circuit every sarcastic bone in my body.
Enough to feel the shape of her against me–knees tangled, hands braced on my chest, hair falling like waves around my jaw.
And then she yanked back.
All wide eyes and apology stutters and that stupid gorgeous mouth of hers saying something about gravity. and betrayal and yoga mats.
And me? What did I do?
I panicked. Naturally.
“What the hell was that?!”
“That was not in the plan!”
“Are you trying to romance me mid–deltoid stretch?!”
She just stared at me like I was the drama.
Excuse me?
I was the victim here. Of accidental lip assault.
Of heart palpitations. Of temptation in joggers.
But then–I saw it. She was flustered. But she wasn’t sorry.
She was trying to sass me. To pivot. To keep control.
And then I looked at her lips.
And realized…I didn’t hate it. I didn’t even want to stop it. Hell–I might’ve leaned in if my brain hadn’t shorted out like a power surge.
Now she’s gone to the kitchen, pretending like she didn’t just commit war against my emotional defenses.
I’m still on the yoga mat, staring at the ceiling like an idiot, with the ghost of her lips still burning on mine.
What the heck was that?
A mistake?
Maybe.
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Chapter 16
A spark?
Definitely.
But most dangerously…
:
:
It felt like the beginning of something I’m not ready for.
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Because no one told me that the woman who insulted my chef, broke my faucet, and bosses me around before breakfast would one day land on my mouth like a divine accident and make me crave more.
More chaos. More sass. More her.
I’m screwed. Absolutely. Utterly. Screwed.
And the worst part? I think I like it.
Of course she came back. Because she always comes back. With more sass than God intended for one human to carry in their five–foot–three frame.
I was still on the yoga mat, trying to process the cosmic emotional whiplash that just happened to my face, when she waltzed back in-
Cup of coffee in hand. Hair tied up. Eyebrow arched like she owned the damn penthouse.
“Relax, Romeo,” she said, sipping like she hadn’t just derailed my central nervous system. “You’re acting like it was your first kiss or something.”
First kiss? FIRST KISS?!
I stared at her, offended on a spiritual level. “Excuse me?”
She didn’t even blink. “You’re pouting like a high school sophomore whose crush kissed him and walked off with his hoodie.”
“Pouting?” I scoffed. “I’m not- I don’t pout-”
“You are pouting.” She pointed with her mug. “Right there. That’s a pout. Also, congratulations, Steven McLeon. You survived your first girl–lip encounter. Want me to get you a sticker?”
I blinked. Mouth open. Indignantly speechless.
“I am Steven McLeon,” I declared, sounding way more dramatic than I meant to. “I’m the man who made women swoon. I’ve graced billboards. Calendar covers. Paparazzi once fought over a picture of me sipping coconut water shirtless on a yacht!”
She looked bored, Sipped her coffee.
“And yet,” she said, turning around like this was just a regular Wednesday, “here we are. One accidental kiss and you’re ready to name our future children.”
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Chapter 16
I nearly choked. “What-?!”
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She waved her free hand. “Relax, prince charming. It was an accident. Calm your Calvin Klein boxers.”
“You-“I pointed. “You kissed me!”
She turned slowly. Smirked. “No. Gravity kissed you. My lips just… teleported. Wrong landing zone. The universe glitched. End of story.”
“Teleported?!” I hissed. “Like your lips were on a solo mission from NASA?!”
She gave me a thumbs up. “Exactly. Friendly fire. Astronaut things. Moving on.”
And then she just—left.
Walked off like she didn’t just reduce my inner emotional collapse into a mild weather event.
Like her lips didn’t send a shockwave through my system and make me dream of her wearing nothing but that oversized white T–shirt again.
I laid back down on the mat. Stared at the ceiling. And muttered under my breath, “Her lips definitely teleported. Straight to my soul. And now I need therapy twice a week.”
Madison Luis was going to kill me. With sass. With coffee. And now with the memory of a kiss that she’s treating like it was a Wi–Fi error.
And the worst part? I still wanted another one.
AD
