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before spinning to stop under the sex swing. The same sex swing he’d just finished polishing before moving to the bondage chair before him now.
Max pushed to his feet, shoved his rag into his pocket, and eyed all his spotless apparatuses. He supposed they were good enough. After tending to his battered face, he’d spent the next two hours scrubbing everything in sight. Hit every piece of furniture at least three times.
That’s right. Cleaning. Therapy at its finest.
Max stalked to his bucket of suds in the corner and grabbed the mop waiting quietly beside it.
Dunk, dunk, dunk.
Water sloshed up to the rim.
Max tugged it out and got busy on the floor. Yeah, this shit was therapy, but it only helped so much. Smoothed out the rough patches and patched up frayed edges, but Max’s current state was a pretty tall order. Hence the three laps to every dungeon device, when technically he’d only needed one. But he’d needed to regroup, to restore some semblance of calm before he lashed out and did something even stupider. Although, what could be stupider than making his best friend want to kill him, he wasn’t exactly sure.
Max pushed the mop forward, then pulled it back, working from one side of the room to the other. All while contemplating for the umpteenth time Scott’s earlier suggestion about Kai. How he’d take Sean on. Be his new Dom. Finally take him off Max’s hands—for good. Max’s jaw ticked as he stared at the wet, glossy floor, reevaluating all he knew about Kai. Which wasn’t much, not that it’d really matter. Max wouldn’t trust him, anyway, no matter what, because Max trusted no one. Except Scott. And Scott—whose judge of character was always spot-on—had said Kai was cool, so maybe he was. Hell, he’d even had Max’s back in that fight. Something that’d surprised Max, but he’d definitely been grateful. Hadn’t seen that dick’s friends when he pounced.
So Kai wasn’t an open book, but in fairness, neither was Max. Kai did fight for his friends, though, which suggested a moral compass. He was also a practiced and competent Dom. A qualification, as it were, that held its own weight in gold. Doms needed to know what they were doing.
Of course, one of the things that Max liked the most was that, like Scott, Kai’s interest seemed trained on another. Specifically, Tad’s friend, Breck, whom Kai clearly relished messing with. Then again, Breck seemed easy to rile up. He also seemed stubborn, so by the looks of things, would be keeping Kai nice and baited for a while. Meaning Max wouldn’t have to worry about Kai developing feelings for Sean. Clearly, the guy wasn’t into blonds.
Max paused and closed his eyes, pressed the mop handle to his forehead, wondering if he could actually do it. If he could actually hand Sean over to another man. Give away his cat. His a stór.
His brows pinched miserably, his mouth pressed tight. That ache in his chest grew even stronger. Because he knew that he could and knew that he would, even though the act would frickin’ wreck him. Thing was, even though he was in way too deep, he could still recuperate from a wreck. It’d hurt like a bitch, but he’d ultimately pull through. If he kept Sean, though? Then lost him later? Max would never recover. It’d be the end of him. Game over.
His back pocket chimed with an incoming text. Max pulled out his phone and opened Messenger, then paused when he spotted the sender. Sean. Max hesitated. Should he open it? No fucking way. Because no matter what it said, Max would want to reply. Then the exchange that followed would make him crave more. To see Sean for any fucking reason whatsoever. Which in turn would make what Max had to do even harder. Hell, it might even make him change his mind. Something he couldn’t fucking do. Needed to stick to his guns. See this shit through. Be a rock.
Besides, he’d sort of already cut ties anyways, when he saw Sean home last night. Because even at that point, before he’d even considered Kai, he’d known that, no matter what, Sean had to go. But it’d been subtle, his goodbye. So subtle, Sean hadn’t even caught it. In Max’s mind, though, he’d just taken the first step. The first step in his unwavering forward march.
Max groaned a soft curse and pocketed his phone, Sean’s text going unread as he resumed. Couldn’t deal with that now. Needed to focus, to finish mopping. Had other important matters he needed to tend to.
* * * * *
By the time Max reached Scott’s bedroom, he’d numbed down his brain, focusing all thought on his apology. One that couldn’t suck, because he wanted his best friend back. God knew, he’d been a royal effing asshole.
