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I don't know what to say when he says things like that. My head always messes with my emotions. He says I'm beautiful and loves the scent of my skin. The color and length of my hair. My chest squeezes, but I concentrate on eating the enchilada.
"This is good," I say between bites.
He can cook. He said Alina taught them both. She didn't have a daughter, so she taught her sons. Whoever they end up with is a lucky woman. He made it the same way Santiago did for me.
"I'm glad you like it."
For the past two months, Maxim has been patient. We kiss and hold hands when no one is looking. We spend time with each other secretly. He takes me to restaurants and drive-ins. We even played mini golf––where he surprised me by being good at it.
After I'm done eating and cleaning up the kitchen. I’m laughing when he drags me down the hallway to his bedroom and pushes me against the door. His hands slide around my waist down to my ass, where he lifts me taking my breath away.
My legs wrap around his waist, feeling his hard length. I grind my hips feeling the hard ridge of his cock.
"You drive me crazy, Elena," he rasps on my neck.
His lips are everywhere, peppering kisses down my throat to my chest. His tongue dips between the valley of my breasts, but he never goes lower. He never goes further.
"I want you inside me," I hiss, tilting my head back.
Desire sinks between my legs, wanting more. He carries me to his bed, and I lie flat on the mattress. My legs wrapped around his waist, grinding shamelessly over his cock.
His eyes dip to my inner thighs, and I freeze. The little voice in my head screaming at me that he would see. He will know.
He frowns when he feels me tense. "Are you okay, Elena? I know you said…I wasn't expecting... I want to kiss you."
I know I said I wanted him, but I forgot. But with Maxim, I don't know where I end and where I begin.
Maxim is safe.
My escape from everything. He doesn't judge, but he's never seen how ugly I am. He's never seen my scars.
He rests his elbows on the bed, caging me in. "Is there something you want to tell me? Is it because…" He pauses, taking a centering breath.
He thinks it's because of Santiago, but it's not that.
"It's not because of him." I look away, afraid to meet his gaze.
"What is it? Is it something I did? Did I force you…"
"You would never force me. Every touch I have wanted. Every kiss I have yearned, but there is something…" I stop.
He grabs my chin so I can see his eyes, dark like chocolate, full of want. "I know you're a virgin, Elena. You don't have to…" He pauses like he’s struggling with his words.
A blush rises in my cheeks. Does everybody know? Is that why he's so careful? Patient?
"It's not that."
I don't admit I am, but I don't say I'm not. We both know the truth. I've never had a boyfriend. I've had only one kiss before, Maxim. And I've never looked at another man besides him and his brother. Sometimes, I feel like I've betrayed my love for Santi, but I know that is impossible because he didn't love me the same way.
"Then tell me. You know you could tell me anything."
"I cut," I blurt. "I'm a cutter."
He pinches his brows, looking at my arms. It's no secret my mother cut. The evidence under all her colorful tattoos on her arm before she met my father. Alex took care of her when she needed help. He helped her cover up the damage.
"Here," I say, pointing to my inner thighs covered by my jean shorts.
He looks down between my legs then looks up. "Why?" He asks.
