An Ounce of Hope(48)

Nothing.

She hummed while she hung another picture. A fraying piece of fabric stamped with the Martin Luther King quote, "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope." It had been her mother's favorite and it took pride of place in the hallway. It would be the first thing her guests would see when they walked into the house.

She stood back, liking its placement, suddenly aware that there was no noise coming from Max's part of the room. She turned to find him watching her, an intense expression on his face, his arms folded.

"What?" she asked.

"Is that why you asked me? Because of what he did to you?"

Grace frowned. "Asked you?"

"The other day, on our run, about whether I found you attractive, about whether I'd have sex with you. Is it because of what he did?"

Ah. That.

Grace's cheeks warmed. "Kind of." She exhaled. "It's a little more complicated than that."

Max remained silent, expectant.

"I've tried being with a man twice since Rick and both times were disasters."

And that was putting it mildly. Her first attempt ended with a trip to the ER, Grace unable to breathe for the flashbacks that began hammering her when he'd climbed on top of her. Her second was equally heinous.

She approached Max slowly. "I couldn't handle them . . . being on-holding me down; holding me too tightly. Truthfully, I struggled with everything intimate. It didn't take my therapist to explain why." 

"So why would me touching you be any different?" Max asked his brow creasing.

Grace smiled. "Because you're the first guy since my husband that I've wanted to get close to. Not like that," she explained when he fidgeted uncomfortably. "I wanted to get to know you, be your friend. I felt safe being near you, and the urge to run away and lock myself in a room goes away when we hang out." Grace cleared her throat, awkwardness teasing her neck. "I just thought that . . . because I can handle being with you, I might be able to handle being with you."

Max's eyes widened when understanding struck. "I see."

Grace toed the floor with her bare foot. "You saw what happened when Buck touched me. You think I want that to happen the rest of my life every time someone wants to fool around?" Anger bubbled through her. "I hate that he has power over me, even when we've been apart all this time. I hate that he still gets to dictate who I can be with, who I can be friends with. He doesn't deserve that power. He did nothing to earn it."

"I agree. You shouldn't let him control your life."

"I want to reclaim it." Her voice raised in volume. "I want to be sexy again. I want to be passionate, and not afraid to be sexual."

Their eyes met for a brief moment, until Max looked away with a deep inhalation. He rubbed his face. The sound of his whiskers scratching his palm did funny things to Grace's belly.

"Can I be honest with you?" he asked, his expression sincere but torn.

"Of course you can."

He paused, opening his mouth a number of times without speaking. He stretched his neck and shifted his weight. "You're hot, all right," he said finally. "And you're sexy as all hell; you really shouldn't worry about that. And six months ago, I would have fucked you any way you wanted me to." He stared. "Shit, I'd still fuck you any way you wanted me to."

Grace swallowed. "Okay."

"But, like I said, you deserve more than that."

"I don't want more than that, Max," she argued. He appeared doubtful. Grace stepped forward. "All right," she began. "Hypothetically, if you agreed to this, what would be your terms, your limits?"

" 'This' being us fucking?" Max clarified.

"Yes."

He lifted his chin, his eyes traveling down her body in a way that caused her skin to heat. "No cuddling, no lovey-dovey talk, no pet names, no kissing."

Grace cocked her head. "No kissing, period, or . . ."

"On the mouth," he answered quietly. "It's too intimate."

Grace smirked. "How very Pretty Woman of you."

"Pretty what?"

She waved her hand. "Never mind. Those seem fair terms."

Even the cuddling. She wasn't about to tell him how he'd held her all night long. That would be her little secret.

"No promises, no expectations," he added, firmly counting the limits on his fingers. "We use a condom." He pointed at her, his expression grave. "That's a deal breaker for me."

"Of course. I'd expect nothing less." She watched Max gather himself. "Anything else?"

He pressed his lips together. "I don't think so. As long as we're clear that this is what it is, nothing more. We're friends. No relationship, no love, no bullshit."