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The sudden, vicious anger in his voice is that same tone I’d heard in the alley when Max had fought off our attacker. Just like then, it sends a jolt of need through me, the feeling that he would protect me,avengeme, even. “If he touched you, I’ll–”
“It wasn’t him,” I say tiredly. “It was someone else. Another man who tried to grab me, like the one you fought off, but it wasn’t the same man. I–I don’t know who it was.”
“How did you get away?” Max’s gaze roves over me, as if he’s trying to assess how injured I am.
One side of my mouth turns up in a rueful smile as I hold up the bloody spiked heel. “My shoe. I hit him in the face.”
The grin that spreads over Max’s face is almost proud. “Good girl,” he says, and the flush of heat that washes over me is so sudden that I feel my knees buckle.
Max sees it, and instantly interprets it as something else. “Here, I’ll help you upstairs.” He reaches for my arm gently, sees me wince, and immediately shifts his hand to the small of my back. My skin tingles at the touch, and as angry as I was with him, as certain as I am that I could make it up to my bedroom on my own, I can’t resist the opportunity to be close to him again, to enjoy him touching me like this.
As soon as we walk into my room and he shuts the door behind us, I’m struck by the intimacy of it, that this is the first time Max has been inmyroom. He guides me towards the bed, gently urging me to sit down on the edge of it, and flicks on the light as he looks down at my face.
“Did he slap you?” The anger in his voice is palpable, and I nod slowly, fighting back the urge to cry now that I’m somewhere safe, withsomeonesafe. “Thatfuckingbastard–”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Max curse so many times in such short succession. “I’m okay,” I manage, trying to keep the tears at bay. “He didn’t hit me that hard–”
The tears start to fall despite my best effort, and Max kneels in front of me, gently reaching up to wipe them away. “Shh,” he says softly, his palm resting against the unhurt side of my face. “You’re safe now, Sasha. Whoever is trying to hurt you, we’re going to find them. I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise. Not ever again.”
I nod, biting my lip as I fight back a fresh wave of tears. Max gets up after a moment and goes into the bathroom, coming back with a first-aid kit. He kneels in front of me again and gently dabs at the cuts on my face, cleaning them carefully, hesitating when I let out a sharp hiss of pain at the sting of the peroxide.
“I’m almost done,” he says gently, dabbing away the last of it. “It’s not as bad as it looked–it shouldn’t scar. They’re shallow. It will just bruise and hurt for a bit.”
“This is why I don’t go out,” I say between sniffles, trying to joke, but Max doesn’t take it that way, clearly, as he looks at me with a frown.
“I want you to feel safe, Sasha.” His hands rest gently on my legs, one of them brushing against bare skin through the slit of my dress. The tingling sensation rushes over me again, heat pooling in my belly, and I want him so badly that it hurts.
“Youmake me feel safe,” I whisper. “You always have.”
The look on his face is almost pained. I’m suddenly very aware all over again that we’re in my room, the only light coming from my bedside lamp, the house silent and still all around us. His hands tighten on my thighs, and I can feel the tension coming off of him in waves.
“Sasha–” My name on his lips sounds almost like a prayer, with him kneeling in front of me, his face almost pleading. “What do you want from me?”
My heart leaps in my chest, my pulse suddenly racing, my skin hot and too tight for my body. “You,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat. “I want you.”
His hands tense, sliding up my legs, pushing up my dress inch by inch. “We shouldn’t–”
“Please.” My eyes flutter closed, my body arching towards him. “Max, please–”
I can feel him fighting it, the tide of desire threatening to pull us under. I can feel him wanting me to stop him, to tell him no, and I know I should, if only to stop us from wrecking each other when we collide. But I want him too badly, and I’m as powerless against it as he is.
He looks even more handsome in the dim lamplight, glinting off of his high cheekbones and the dark shadows of his stubble, the gold in his hazel eyes catching the light. His long-fingered, strong hands push up my skirt a little more, and I let my legs come apart, wanting him to come closer, to give me something that I can’t even put a name to–but I know that he’ll know what it is.
He always does.
“God, Sasha–” He groans, his hands fisting in my skirt, yanking it up. “I can’t stop myself when I’m with you. God fucking forgive me. I can’t stop–”
I see his jaw clench, his body shudder, and then my skirt is at the top of my thighs, the black lace panties beneath it bared to his eyes, and I see the small muscle in his jaw leap as he gazes between my legs for the first time. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmurs hoarsely, his rough palms sliding up the soft insides of my thighs, spreading me wider as he kneels between them.
“About what?” I whisper shakily, feeling my blood heat until it feels like it might burn through my veins, every nerve in my body awakened to his touch. “What do you want to do, Max?”
I want to hear him say it, as he spreads my legs wider, his hands skimming up the sides of my hips as his fingers brush against the edge of my panties. I want to hear him tell me, so that there’s no question that he wants it as much as I do, that he’s as on fire for me as I am for him. That heneedsme as much as I have always needed him.
“I want to taste you,” Max groans, his head turning so that his lips press against my inner thigh, sending a shiver through me as I moan. “I want to worship your pussy with my tongue while I’m on my knees in front of you.That’swhat I fucking dream about, Sasha. That’s what drives me insane with desire. Not wanting you on your knees for me or wanting to get my cock inside you, though God knows how badly I want that, too. I’ve been so hungry to taste you, all this time.” His lips drag up my inner thigh as I feel arousal rush between my legs, drenching me as he tells me what he wants to do to me. “I want you to come on my tongue, Sasha.”
I let out a small gasp as he hooks his fingers in the edge of my panties, dragging them down my thighs. “Lean back,” he murmurs as he tosses them aside, his hands spreading me wider with a confidence that belies the fact that this is his first time.
It’s mine, too, for this, and I have no idea what to expect. “I want to see you,” he says huskily, his hands firm on my thighs. With anyone else, I’d be embarrassed at the idea of them looking at me so intimately. I can feel how wet I am, my pussy swollen and aching, and I want him to touch me so badly it hurts.
