It’s inherently selfish, I think, to just release the world around you and take what you want. The thing is, Maxx and I aren’t hurting each other. We aren’t hurting anyone else. At least … not physically. Was Chasm hurting when I talked to him on the phone? Yes. Will Parrish hurt when he finds out? Undoubtedly. But they’d both make the same choice to save me, to save each other. I know that.
Maxx knows that.
“I like you in spite of everything,” he says, spreading one hand wide for emphasis. “In spite of Chasm and Parrish, in spite of … Maxine.” He takes a step toward me. “I see a young woman with a quick wit, and a hell of a lot of heart.” He touches the fist that clutches the condom to his chest. “This isn’t just going to be mechanical for me.”
“Or me,” I breathe, and then Maxx is closing the distance between us, lifting his eyes to the brightening sky in the distance. We’re running out of time. And fast. He sweeps past me, making me shiver with the heat of his body as it brushes past me, and he grabs the drapes, dragging them closed.
When I turn around, he’s just there, and he’s grabbing my hair again, dropping his mouth to mine.
Our first kiss is … impossible.
I can’t breathe; I can’t think. Everything else around me becomes hazy, like smoke. I can’t see it. I don’t care. The only thing in the world in that moment is Maxx Wright. My mind goes blank—whether because of the intensity of my attraction for him or because I just can’t bear to think of the implications, I don’t know.
Defense mechanism meets unrelenting passion, and then we’re stumbling back and I’m bumping against one of the posts of my bed.
His tongue is hot and vicious, almost controlling. But then I feel him pull back just a bit, clamp down on that urge to dominate. He doesn’t want to do that to me. I almost wish that he would.
And oh gods, his lips are so soft with one small exception: the center of his lower lip where he bites it on occasion. I decide to bite it for him this time, grazing my teeth over the plump shape. He groans and pulls my hair a little harder, his tongue diving deeper.
A warm sound escapes his lips, feathering against my own. Very male, very possessive.
Oh.
This is what he’d want if he had me all to himself, I imagine. Too bad for him that’s not an option.
But we can play a game. Just for tonight. Some fucked-up fairy tale that should never see the light of day.
“Quickly,” I tell him, and he groans, putting his forehead against mine. My fingers come up, almost tentatively, and he reaches down, cupping them in his hand and then pressing them firmly against his chest. He’s as careful of my splinted fingers as Chas is.
“Feel me,” he commands. “Touch me. All of me.”
I almost hesitate there; I almost break. I almost think of my sister.
“No,” he growls out, and it’s not a request. “Don’t go there. She and I, we never … we didn’t do things like this.” I pull back slightly, giving him the side-eye. I’ll do this because I have to, because Parrish’s life hangs by a thread. But I will not be lied to.
“Bullshit. You never kissed her? Never made out?”
He shakes his head violently.
“No. Because I don’t trust myself.”
“You don’t trust yourself?” I ask, trying to understand, to imagine how they could’ve dated for months in college and never once kissed each other. “What do you mean?”
He pulls back enough to stare at me.
“Do you want me to show you?” he asks, his grip on my hair tightening just a little. Oh. Is this what he’s talking about? I swallow past the emotions, my body tingling, flickering, dancing. I feel like I’m glittering, on the inside and the outside.
He wants to take charge.
And I don’t care because then I can pretend that I’m not orchestrating this mess.
“Do it,” I tell him, letting my gaze drift toward the closed curtains. “And hurry.”
Maxx releases my hair and picks me up. I let out a small sound, my legs going around him automatically. He crawls onto the bed with me still clinging to him, and I have to say, I’m impressed.
“You’re strong,” I whisper as he kneels there on the bed and looks down at me.
“Mm. The wet weight of my bike is like, two hundred and fifteen pounds. So, like, a hell of a lot more than you.” He tosses me into the pillows, and I let out another small gasp.
“Wet weight?” I ask as Maxx puts his palms on either side of me. We make eye contact, and that zing goes through me all over again, just like the one I felt initially inside the coffee shop. My heart aches; my soul aches. This is the worst sort of betrayal for Maxine, for Parrish, and yet it’s all that I can think to do to save them both.
