“I understand, but sweetheart, I think you should at least listen to the voicemail he left you. What if it’s something about Candi and the restraining order?” he insisted as he kept looking into my eyes. I blinked for a lengthy moment before I answered him.
“I don’t think listening to the message right now would be any different than listening to it in the morning. Besides, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about Candi or the restraining order. She made her choice…drugs over me,” I spat before I lifted his head off my lap and sprang up from the sofa. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming or not?” I asked as I turned to go upstairs.
I didn’t hear Max get up to follow me; it was only after I felt his arms wrap around me from behind and his lips warmed the space tucked right behind my ear that I knew he’d agreed to go to bed with me.
“I’m sorry,” he growled against my neck in a raspy voice that sent shivers down my spine. His hands clung to my stomach, pulling me against him. It was as if his embrace was telling me that he never wanted me to walk away from him again. I turned in his arms until we were face to face, heart to heart. Then I brought my hands to his cheeks and answered his apology.
“Don’t be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry about. The woman that left me on my grandparents’ porch, over ten years ago…that woman died the minute she drove away. If Candi thinks she can call me up and somehow expect me to magically become the daughter she left behind, she’s sadly mistaken. I’m not that wounded little eight-year-old girl any more. Whether I have a restraining order or not.”
My heart thrashed against my sternum and my breath sped shallow as I struggled to stop the vice-gripping thoughts of her from shutting down my lungs. Max pulled me tight against his chest as he parked his lips against the crook of my neck. His breathing entered into a real deep, slow rhythm as he hummed words of comfort against my skin.
“Shhhh. Come on, sweetheart, just slow down. You’re right.”
If there was a way to fade into him, I would have. I wanted to dissolve into his good intentions, get lost in his words, and evaporate in his love. But for now, I’ll take being wrapped in his arms while I collect all the painful memories of Candi and bury them away…again.
Chapter Eighteen
~ Max ~
I liked holding Wilson, and if there was any way to get closer to her, I’d find it. How could I explain the need to pull her so tight against me that she’d melt into my body? I didn’t want to ever let her go. I didn’t even really care who was on that phone. At that moment, none of that mattered. All I wanted to do was take her to bed. I shifted my weight and hoisted her into my arms. She wrapped her hands up around my head and buried her face into the crook of my neck. Her breath blazed hot across my skin, and her meditative moans as I carried her upstairs caused my heart to speed in my chest. Every last intention sailed south, collecting below my waist.
When I reached the top of the stairs, even though I was exhausted, I was buzzing. I couldn’t wait to get her in my room, on my bed, and feel close to her. I let her feet drop to the floor, steadying her stance before I pulled her to my room. The distance from the top of the stairs to my door seemed like a lifetime, even though it was less than five steps away. I pushed my bedroom door open, still holding Wilson’s hand, she trailed behind me a step or two. Truthfully, before I got so tired, I wanted to ravage her body. It didn’t matter to me where we made love—on the floor, against the fireplace, or even on top of the pool table in the great room—all I wanted was to be close to her. In a flash I pulled off my shirt, stripped off my pants, and turned back to stare at her for a mighty second. She was closing the door and pressing the lock. God, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her smile wickedly sensual, her eyes so skilled at taking in everything she wanted as they pulled me back to her. I reached across and took hold of the base of her top.
“Let me help you,” I whispered as I pulled it over her head and laid it across my chair. I took her in as I closed the gap between us, dragging my fingers up the inside of her arm. I noticed the goose bumps ripple across her skin, and her pulse was racing with my touch.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered as she rested her hands against the waistband of my boxers.
“I know,” I answered in a low rumble as I traced my fingers down the seams of her bra to the front clasp.
I pushed and twisted, releasing the pressure that bound her breasts. I dragged my fingers under the straps that hung loosely on her shoulders and pulled her bra off her body. Her skin was soft, warm, and so inviting.