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He doesn’t say anything, clearly more focused on his injuries as he heads straight into the bathroom, leaving me there to stare around at my surroundings. The last thing I’d imagined was that I’d end up in Max’s bedroom, and I feel the butterflies tumble over each other again at the idea of what could happen.
It’s as neat and clean as the rest of the house, the bed made up with a grey patterned duvet and matching pillows, a leather wing chair by the window, and dark wood furnishings. There’s a hamper by the closed closet door, and it all looks well-kept and simple—pretty much exactly as I imagined it.
And I definitelyhaveimagined it, no matter how much I know I shouldn’t.
There’s silence from the bathroom, and I gingerly knock on the door, worried about if Max is okay in there or not. I’m not sure how hard he was hit, but it looked as if the other man got in a few good blows to his head.
“Max? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” His voice is surprisingly curt. “Don’t come in.”
“I won’t—but I could help patch you up, if you need it—” My heart leaps in my chest a little again at the thought of Max shirtless—or naked, in there.
There’s a pause, and then I hear Max sigh. “I could probably use a little help. Give me a second.”
I hear rustling, and I feel a small flicker of disappointment at the thought that he’s probably putting his shirt back on. It’s not the first thing I should be worried about right now, but it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to getting to see Max in any state of undress.
“You can come in,” he calls out, and I open the door to see him leaning over the sink, his shirt unbuttoned. I get a glimpse of his olive skin, ridged ab muscles, and the dark hair furred across his upper chest and narrowing into a trail that runs down those abs and disappears into the waist of his black chinos before I tear my eyes away, not wanting him to catch me checking him out and tell me to leave again. But my heart thumps in my chest, heat spreading through me and tingling over my skin as I sneak one more glimpse—and notice something else.
“Did he get you in the side?” I motion towards what looks like a healing welt on Max’s waist—like a whip mark more than a punch or scratch. I would know; I had a number of them on my thighs and hips after Alexei beat me in front of Caterina to get her to yield to him.
Max flinches, pulling his shirt closer around him and forcing a few of the buttons through their holes. “Probably,” he says, his voice sharper than before, and he doesn’t meet my eyes as he holds a fresh wad of gauze to his nose, the blood still trickling out.
I’m confused as to why he’s acting so strangely about it, but I don’t want to question him too closely and have him tell me to leave. “What do you need help with?” I ask instead, softly, leaning up against the counter.
“Bastard knocked my nose out of joint.” Max grimaces, looking in the mirror. “If you can hold the gauze there for the blood, I can jerk it back into place.”
I canfeelmyself pale a little at that idea, but I nod bravely. “Sure,” I manage, reaching up for the square of gauze he’s holding against his upper lip. “I can do that.”
“Are you sure?” Max looks at me with a hint of a grin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’mfine,” I tell him stubbornly, still holding the gauze in place. “Just do it already.”
Max snorts. “Says the one who doesn’t have to fix her nose.” He winces, grabbing it between his fingers. “Alright. One, two—”
He jerks it back into place, the sound making me shudder as I keep the gauze firmly in place. Max lets out a low groan of pain, gripping the counter before he reaches up to nudge my hand away. When his skin brushes mine, I feel that jolt again, my pulse skipping a little at the contact.
“Thanks,” he manages with a wry smile, dabbing at his nose. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”
I blink at him. “You saved me,” I say quietly. “And it’s not the first time. I’d do anything I could to help you.”
Max goes very still, his hand dropping as he dabs the last of the blood away from his nose and tosses the gauze aside. “I didn’t save you in Russia, Sasha,” he says gently. “Viktor and Liam and Levin did that. Niall and I just ran backup.”
“You didn’t even have to do that, though.” I shake my head, looking up at him. “You’ve always been there for me, for some reason, since the moment we met. You didn’t have to be, but you were. And I don’t know why.”
“I—” Max hesitates, turning towards me. He’s almost touching me, the two of us as close as we’ve ever been, the room suddenly feeling very small. “You needed me,” he says simply, his voice very low, almost a murmur. “I couldn’t resist it. Even if I knew—”
“Knew what?” The words are a whisper, a breath, my heartbeat choking me. I want him so badly, the ache filling my bones, my blood, beating in my veins like a second heartbeat. His eyes are full of a sudden, yearning sadness, and I know, Iknowwith a certainty I’ve never had before, that he needs me just as badly.
“That it would make me want something I could never have.” His words are quiet and pained, and they cut straight to the bone.
I see the chance, and I take it for the first time, even as it terrifies me.
“What if you could?” I whisper. And then, as he looks down at me with those warm hazel eyes, I go up on my tiptoes. My hands press against his chest just like I’d imagined, fingers brushing against the soft dark hair, and very gently, I brush my lips over his.
My first kiss.
13
