The Billionaire's Salvation(38)

I need to treat him like a child who needs my help right now. He isn’t in his right mind.

She tried…she really did. But he was definitely not a child, and as her fingers encountered difficulty unzipping his jeans because of the massive bulge beneath her fingers, Max grinned.

“Having problems, sweetheart?” he asked, his sultry voice slightly slurred.

Stepping back, she instructed, “Take off your jeans.”

He ran a hand slowly down his ripped abdomen in a sensual, slow slide. “I liked it better when you were doing it,” he drawled in a low, sexy voice that nearly made Mia jump him, drunk or not.

He flipped the button open with one tug and slowly lowered the zipper.

So much for thinking he couldn’t get hard in his intoxicated condition.

Max started pushing his jeans down, taking his boxers with them. She grabbed for the elastic of his underwear, keeping them on his hips as he peeled off the pants.

“Off,” he insisted, yanking on the red and black striped boxers.

“On,” she demanded. Hell. There was only so much a woman could take, and even in his current state, Max was one big mass of scorching hot male. She pushed hard on his chest, sending him off-balance so he landed on the bed.

He repositioned himself, crawling to the top of the bed and lounging back against her pillows. “I’m lonely,” he grumbled, patting the place beside him on the bed.

Oh no. Hell no. She wasn’t going to get into that bed.

“I love you,” he said huskily. “Come here next to me. I miss you.”

That note of vulnerability, the fact that he was letting himself be wide open to her even after she’d hurt him, broke her completely. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at her husband, the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with, asking for nothing more than for her presence. Yeah. Sure. He was befuddled, but his look was so unguarded and unprotected at the moment that it tore her heart from her chest.#p#分页标题#e#

She tried to mentally tick off things in her mind, focusing on what she needed to do to fix her situation, but it didn’t work. Max was calling to her, and right at this moment he needed her, and she couldn’t deny him.

He’ll hate me tomorrow. He probably came to discuss the divorce and how to get it over with as quickly as possible. He needed tons of liquor just to have a conversation with me. He’s messed up right now.

There was every reason to ignore him, but she couldn’t. It could be the last time she ever touched him, and the temptation was too great to disregard. Kicking off her sneakers, she climbed up onto the bed and snuggled beside him, sighing as her fingers were met with warm skin. “I love you, too,” she admitted, knowing he’d probably never remember any of this in the morning, and thinking that it was better if he didn’t. But the words left her lips involuntarily, needing to tell him just one last time.

His warm, protective arms snaked around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, giving herself this time, this stolen moment, to enjoy the exhilaration she felt when she was with Max. Their relationship had never been comfortable, or mildly contented. For her, it had always been a heart-thumping roller coaster that never ended. Maybe if they had been married for years, together for decades, her emotions would have settled down, but she was doubtful. She hadn’t given Max her heart; he had stolen it, the stubborn organ leaping from her chest and into his the moment they had met.

Crazy love.

The tension in Max’s arms relaxed, but he never let go of her, even after he was asleep. Mia relaxed into him and sighed, trying to absorb every bit of him into her soul, trying to keep every sensation locked in her memory.

He could hate her tomorrow. By then, she’d be gone.





“Max! Where in the hell is my sister?”

The loud, masculine shout jolted Max out of his slumber, causing him to sit up in bed, before quickly dropping his head back on the pillows. Damn. His gut lurched and he swallowed, trying to make his head stop throbbing. It was like a sledgehammer was beating against his skull.

Blinking as he opened his eyes, two men came into focus, two angry-looking guys. It took him a moment to identify them both as Kade and Travis, his focus a little blurry.

He held up his hand weakly. “No screaming. My head is ready to explode.” He winced as even his own voice exacerbated his slamming headache.

“Nobody was yelling,” Kade replied, his voice laced with laughter. “Jesus Christ, you must have gotten pickled.”

“Coffee and aspirin,” Travis said calmly, turning and walking out of the room.

“You look like hell, buddy. What the hell happened? Where is Mia?” Kade questioned curiously.