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“He’s gone. He won’t touch you again.” Max’s voice was a low growl.
My eyes snapped to his. Despite the rough anger in his tone, his gaze was tight with concern for me. Only one of his dark eyes was fully visible, the other once again concealed by his carefully tousled hair. He’d hidden his scar and tucked away his terrible, enraged mask.
I wouldn’t have been scared even if he’d been snarling at me. I was completely safe with Max.
“Thank you,” I murmured, finally releasing my aching chest from my own protective embrace.
I reached out and placed my hand over his where it was fisted on the tabletop. Crimson lines had settled into the creases around his knuckles, Gavin’s blood clinging to him even after he’d wiped most of it off on his black shirt. When I touched the lingering traces of the violent scene, his jaw firmed, and his fingers flexed. For a moment, I thought he’d pull away.
Then, he blew out a breath and relaxed. He turned his hand and pressed his palm to mine, interlacing our fingers. I felt shockingly small in his grasp, every bit as delicate as he’d said. I’d definitely felt weak when Gavin had me pinned against my front door. Max was even taller and broader than my bully, but his imposing size didn’t elicit so much as a tremor of fear. Instead, that strange, honeyed warmth pooled low in my belly, the same unfamiliar sensation that’d overcome me when he’d held me in place for his savage kiss.
My face heated, and his eyes flicked to my pink cheeks. His dark gaze picked each of my features apart once again, focusing on me with an intensity that I’d never experienced before. It made something decidedly feminine quiver inside me. The masculine attention was both gratifying and slightly unnerving. I resisted the urge to shift in my seat to alleviate the odd tingling that’d crept up my thighs.
“You really aren’t scared of me.” He said it like an impossibility, something that completely defied reality.
My mouth curved in a small smile. “You’re finally listening to me, huh? No, I’m not scared of you, Max. And don’t tell me I should be.” I spoke before he could get the words out. “You can’t tell me what to think or feel, so don’t waste your breath.”
“Stubborn,” he muttered, a ghost of an accusation.
“So are you,” I countered coolly.
His lips quirked. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. You seem to love arguing with me.”
I scoffed. “Only because you say ridiculous things.”
He laughed, a strangely raspy sound, as though his vocal cords weren’t used to it. His mouth tilted in a crooked grin, and his eyes sparkled. My breath caught in my throat. Max was beautiful. I’d seen glimpses of it before, but his smile was stunning enough to knock me square in the chest.
Before I could snap my slack jaw closed, our server appeared. “Pinot noir and a charcuterie, Allie?” he asked, recognizing me.
I nodded in rote agreement, unable to tear my eyes from Max’s handsome face. His features firmed to something stern, but not scary. The slight press of his full lips and warning slant of his dark brow made my stomach do a funny flip.
“And a water,” he said firmly, adding to my order. His gaze flicked to our server. “I’ll have the same as her.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled in the man’s direction as he hurried off to the bar. I couldn’t seem to look away from Max. I’d only ever seen him in shadow, where darkness pooled beneath the sharp lines of his face. There was nothing frightening about his appearance now. The warm lighting in the intimate, wood-paneled bar illuminated his golden skin and danced over his obsidian eyes. He looked like a fallen angel.
Suddenly, looking directly at him was almost unbearable. Flames licked my veins, and my skin flushed hot enough to make me blush from my ears all the way down to my chest.
“I think your freckles are cute,” he said abruptly, his voice a deep rumble.
My eyes snapped to his, and my brain scrambled to catch up. “What?”
“Before. When I called you Freckles.” I flinched at the nickname, and he frowned. “I said it because I think they’re cute. I didn’t know it was upsetting for you.”
I pressed my lips together, holding in the retort that being tied up in his basement had been upsetting. Caustic words would make him retreat behind that angry mask that obscured his pain, and I didn’t want to lose him. Despite how we’d met, I craved more time with my dark protector, the damaged man who defended me so fiercely.
The man who’d kissed me with such passion that my lips still tingled with the memory of his mouth on mine.
Was that why he’d been outside my place tonight, close enough to protect me from Gavin’s sick advances? An insane part of me had craved to see him again, to find him waiting for me on my front porch. Did he feel the same way about our kiss? Hot and confused and greedy for more?
