The lump in Max’s throat kept her from speaking, and when he reached up and brushed a hair from her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear, she closed her eyes, memorizing the whisper of his intimate touch.
Treat went upstairs, and Max closed her eyes. I’m an idiot. I keep running from him, and he’s so good to me.
He came downstairs a few minutes later and scooped her up again. Although it went against every fiber of her being to be seen as anything even close to a damsel in distress, she cuddled against him, allowing herself to relish in his warmth and generosity.
The smell of warm vanilla filled the spacious candle-lit bathroom. Treat set her down on the ceramic floor, and she longed to be back in his arms, against his warmth. The idea of a warm bath had seemed wonderfully decadent when she was downstairs, when it was just a thought, like an intangible dream, but now, as she stood in the bathroom alone with Treat and her body was reacting to his generous and incredibly romantic gesture in ways that were making it hard for her to think straight, her nerves began to tingle. She looked in the mirror, and Treat’s intimate gaze sent a sobering dose of reality through her. He looked at her like the thought of living without her would be too painful to endure—reflecting the very feelings she’d been trying to deny. She had to tell him the truth, to come clean with all that she’d been holding back. It wasn’t fair that he’d revealed his fears to her and she’d hidden behind her own.
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything, sweetness.” He turned away.
Sweetness. The endearment sent shivers through her. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
He turned, and in that breath, she saw relief in the lowering of his shoulders and the slight curl of his lips.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I only want to help you feel better, even if that means you need a life without me in it. I’ll understand.”
She knew he would, too, from the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to tell him about her secret, then shook her head instead. She couldn’t risk ruining the safety she felt. “I want you here. With me.” How could one man make her feel so safe after the roller coaster of emotions she’d experienced over the past forty-eight hours? When she looked into his eyes, the very worries that had sent her reeling in anger now seemed far, far away.
“Please?”
“Anything for you, sweetness. Anything at all.”
She took a step toward him and splayed her hands on the hard muscles of his stomach, then rested her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes.
“I’m here,” was all he said as he rested his head on hers. And it was all she needed to hear.
Treat slipped her sweatshirt from her shoulders and laid it neatly on the counter next to a basket of soaps and lotions. Max loved his propensity for organization. Just like me.
She lifted her arms as he took off her shirt.
“You’re even more beautiful in the candlelight,” he whispered, then unbuttoned his own shirt and stepped from his pants.
Max had to close her eyes against the primal urges that gathered in her belly and spread through her like wildfire. She felt his fingers adeptly removing her pants, lifting each of her calves with his gentle touch.
She opened her eyes and met his tender and steady gaze.
Treat took her glasses off and set them on the counter. “Max,” he whispered.
She felt the tension in his palm as he cupped her face; at the same time, her eyes lowered. His obvious desire sent tantalizing thrills through her. She wanted to feel his body against her. Before she could reach for him, he was guiding her to the tub and lowering her down. Then he stepped in behind her and settled her against him. She closed her eyes as he washed her arms sensually with a warm, soapy cloth and gathered her hair in his hand, moving it over one of her shoulders. Max had never felt so cherished as he slid the cloth along her shoulder and neck, slowly, lovingly. She moaned at the gentle caress.
He took her hands in his and washed each of her fingers, her palms, her wrists.
“Relax,” he whispered as she leaned forward. He gently brought her back against his chest.
“Rest,” he said, reaching under the water to wash her legs.
The cloth moved slowly up her thighs to the bend of her hip, then slowly back down to the crest of her knee. He slid his hands along her lower belly, caressing her rib cage, her hips, and along her inner thighs. Max closed her eyes and let her legs fall open against his; his thighs held her as a willing captive, and his thick, muscular, arms reached around her, creating a loving cocoon that made her feel small and feminine—and very, very desirous.
He wrapped his arms around her middle, leaning his cheek against hers. His breath warmed her damp shoulders, and Max wanted to stay right there, with his heart beating against her back, forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
NOTHING IN HIS life had ever given Treat the ceaseless feeling of happiness as taking care of Max for the last hour had. He could feel her tension releasing in every breath she took, in the way her eyes rode at half-mast, and the slow waning of her anger, replaced with a contented haze. Everything about Max was sublime, and as much as his body cried out for her, sex wasn’t what he craved. This closeness was enough. If they did nothing else tonight, he would be sated.
The bubbles dissipated and the water cooled. Max moved closer to him, stealing his warmth, and as much as he hated to move, he wanted her warm and safe in his bed.
“Let me dry you off, sweetness.”
She moved as if she were half asleep, her slender arms reaching for him as she stood. Treat helped her step from the tub and wrapped her in a thick towel, then took another towel and gently patted her dry. He moved from her neck and shoulders to her arms, remembering the way his heart ached the first time he’d set eyes on her and how the unfamiliar emotion had frightened him. Now he understood the emotion, and the only fear he had was of not being the man Max wanted him to be—the man she deserved. In order to do that, he needed to learn about her insecurities, her dreams.
Treat was every bit an alpha male, from his height and strength to his desire to protect, but never had anyone incited his protective reflexes as strongly as his family had—until he met Max. When that first emotion had hit him, it had shaken him to his core, and he hadn’t known how to handle the impulses. Now, as he knelt before Max, wiping the water from her body, he knew just what to do. He embraced those impulses. He would protect Max’s heart with simple acts of kindness and love. The only nagging doubt of allowing himself to fully open up and love her, and to let her love him in return, was the worry caused by his mother’s death, and he was working on that. He kept his father’s words close to remind him to let those fears go. Your mama didn’t die because of our love for each other.
He was surprised when Max reached for his neck, wanting him to carry her to the bedroom. He knew the first time he’d carried her from the car that she might fight him. She was strong and self-sufficient, and she was proud of that. The woman he was carrying to his bed never failed to surprise him—even the way she went from intense sexuality to full-on fear showed her strength. Most women would have continued making love, rationalized their minds out of ending the intimacy. In his experience, most women feared losing the men in their lives. Max wasn’t anything like most women.
He drew back the covers with one hand and laid her on the clean sheets, then grabbed one of his clean T-shirts from his dresser.
“I’m just going to put this on you, sweetness.” He slid the shirt over her head and smoothed it down almost to her knees. Damn, she looked adorable and sexy all at once.
Treat slipped into a pair of boxer briefs, then brought the candles from the bathroom and placed them on the slate in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. He lay beside Max, leaning on one elbow so he could take care of whatever she needed.
“Why are you so good to me?” Max asked.
“Because you deserve it.”
“I’m pretty drunk,” she admitted.
“That’s okay. I’m not. I won’t let you take advantage of me.” He rubbed his fingers lightly across her forehead, and she closed her eyes.
“Mmm. That feels so good.”
“Good,” he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was break the trusting mood of his bedroom. He’d thought about what she’d look like in his bed too many times to count, and he knew bringing up the hurt of when he’d left Allure so quickly might cause her to run again, but he couldn’t take the chance of not talking things through—because of how badly that had backfired last time.
“Sweetness, can we talk?”
“Tired,” she said.
“I know. I just don’t want to wake up at two a.m. and find you angry with me again. We should deal with all of this, figure out where we stand.”
She curled in to the curve of his arm. “I don’t want to stand. I want to stay right here. Forever.”
Forever. Forever was just what he wanted, but not without a clear conscience. He had to clear the air.
“Max, the reason I left town was to let you live your life without me in it. I didn’t want you to feel the pressure of my presence.” Or the hurt. “I promised myself I wouldn’t contact you. I’d let you be.”