Page 74
How is this broody, dominant alpha male so cute right now? He looks nervous, sensing the vulnerability on my face.
“I can’t stand the distance anymore.” He lifts me onto his lap, tucking my head under his chin before stroking my hair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he whispers. “I have no right to ask.”
“I’m just nervous. This isn’t something I share. With anyone.”
His arms grip me a little tighter. Then all of a sudden, I’m weightless as he flings his legs over the side of the bed and lifts me.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re taking a bath.”
“What?” I giggle.
“Don’t think I couldn’t tell how much you were dying to take a soak in the tub at the presidential suite. I could see the internal war. Well, my tub is even better.”
I don’t doubt that for a second.
“I’ll run a bath and leave if you’d like some privacy. But after what just happened between us, I’d like to take care of you. Prove I’m worthy of your secrets.”
Reaching over, I run my fingers over his scruff. “I’ve never bathed with a man before.”
“Really?” He’s beaming. Actually beaming at me.
I shake my head, biting my lower lip.
Max deposits me on the edge of his deep soaking tub. This thing actually does look like a small Olympic pool. He runs the water and pours some fragrant oil that smells like vanilla and lavender. He’s silent as he gathers two fluffy white towels and deposits them on the counter.
“Please don’t feel pressured. I’d love to join you, but I want you to relax and feel comfortable here.” Max gently brushes a stray strand of pink hair behind my ear.
“No. I’d like that.” I admit I’m nervous. This is more intimate than what went on in his bed. There’s no hiding behind pink hair, makeup, clothing, or shadows any longer.
Max reaches behind his head, pulling his shirt off. I swallow hard. My Criminal Minds fantasy has arrived. Next, go his suit pants. Jeez. This man is utter perfection, standing before me in the sexiest black boxer briefs I’ve ever seen.
Max reaches for the hem of my sweater. “Can I?”
I nod. There’s no going back after this.
He lifts my cream-colored sweater over my head and carefully deposits it on the bench beside the tub. Then he curls his strong arms around me and unhooks my bra. He steps back and begins to kneel in front of me when I catch his hesitation. He tries to hide it, but there’s no use. I’m so accustomed to it now. That horrified look when the scars on my chest and back come into full view.
There aren’t a ton, but there’s no escaping them. The laceration on my back that required thirty-six stitches to close. The prominent scar over my left ribcage where they inserted the chest tube. And he’s already seen the one along my jaw. The others pale in comparison, but he has a keen eye. I’m sure he’ll catch them all, like constellations in a dark sky.
He slides my skirt down my legs, placing tender kisses to my navel as he goes. Max removes his briefs, ensuring we’re on equal footing. Well, minus the fact his well-defined pecs and abs are covered in flawless skin, while mine is a reflection of human wickedness.
Max takes my hand in his and walks closer to the tub, checking the temperature with his free one. He steps in first, sitting back against the edge of the tub and encouraging me to slide down in front of him.
We sit in silence together as I lean against his chest. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around me as if he’ll never let go. There’s a safety with him I never expected to feel again. Not with anyone but Holt.
“I was actually in the police academy before I worked at the club,” I begin.
“What?” Max pulls back, seeming genuinely shocked. I can see him scanning me, likely trying to reconcile the woman in front of him with the badge in my past.
“Yeah.” I let out a half-hearted, bitter chuckle. “I come from a long line of civil servants. My brother and uncles are FDNY. Proud brotherhood of firefighters who all worked during 9/11. My dad was a cop. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be just like him.”
“And your mom?” he asks.
I shake my head, my back pressed against his warm skin. “She wasn’t cut out to be married to a cop. Or to be a mom, for that matter. She left when I was eleven. It was just me, Holt, and my dad.”
“I’m sorry, Cass.”
