by J. S. Scott
“Max…have you been drinking?” Mia asked, astonished.
Bingo. Give the woman a prize.
“I’ve had a few,” Max answered, lying his ass off. He’d had more than a few. Several? A lot? Yeah…he thought one of those would be more accurate.
Still, seeing her in front of him, looking as beautiful as she always did, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a red tank top, nearly killed him. Maybe the alcohol hadn’t helped ease the pain at all, ’cause his chest was aching just from looking at her. She looked…concerned and anxious, and when he saw her blue eyes flash with fear, he nearly lost it. Was she afraid of him, or the whole confrontation thing? She did seem to prefer to run away. But then, he’d done it, too. He just hadn’t done it with another woman.
“You never drink much,” she mumbled, standing back to let him in. “And you never drink and drive.”
Nope. He usually didn’t. In fact, he’d never actually been drunk, which may be the reason he was having such a hard time deciding whether or not he truly was intoxicated. “Didn’t drive while I was drinking—except up your driveway, which, by the way, has a hell of a lot of damn potholes.” And in his possibly inebriated state, he’d driven into every one of them.
He was sauntering into the living room, trying hard not to fall on his ass, when he heard a stifled laugh.
“You’re completely plastered, Max,” Mia informed him, her eyes concerned, but her lips smiling slightly. “How much did you drink?”
“Don’t know,” he answered honestly. ’Cause really, he didn’t remember how many swigs he’d taken from the bottle. He’d wanted enough to make him numb, enough to keep him from reacting to Mia. The thing was, he didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the world to accomplish that.
“How did you know I was here?” she questioned carefully.
“Your brothers. I’m not sure…but I think I killed Travis,” he answered cheerfully. He was pretty sure Travis wasn’t dead, but he’d be battered and bruised, and the idea of that made Max pretty damn happy.
“You didn’t kill my brother, and you shouldn’t have gotten in a fight with him. He’s just trying to protect me,” she told him calmly, her hands on her hips as she looked up at him. “Is that how you got that cut over your eye? It’s bleeding.”
Damn. Travis had gotten a few punches in while trying to protect himself. But at the moment, Max was feeling no pain. “Yeah? If you think I look bad, you should see him,” Max grumbled, highly offended that Mia hadn’t taken him seriously when he’d said he had killed her brother. “He fights like a girl,” he added, knowing he was lying. Had Travis really tried, and had Kade not stopped the fight, Max had no doubt both of them would be in the emergency room right now. “Bastard should have told me. You’re my goddamn wife. I had a right to know that you’d left me for another man.”
Mia reached out and lightly touched the bruises on his face. “Oh, Max. What did they say? That isn’t—”
“I want to hate you. I should hate you. But dammit, I just fucking can’t,” Max said coarsely, hating himself for still not being able to look at her and conjure up the hatred he should have for a wife who had left him desolate and heartbroken for over two years, making everything he’d felt—and still felt—seem like one big joke…at his expense. “Did you know that when I thought you were dead, I wanted to die too? I didn’t want to go on living without you.” Max knew they were drunken words, a pity party for one, but he didn’t give a shit. “I was completely obsessed with you, so out of control that I had to back away from it to keep a leash on myself. And the whole fucking time, your mind was on another man.” He reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her down with him to the leather sofa, her body beneath his. He might be drunk, but as he looked down at her, he couldn’t mistake the anguished, tormented look in her eyes. Did she feel sorry for him? Christ. He hoped not. The last thing he wanted was her pity.
“I’m not sure what my brothers said, but—”
“They told me you left me because of another man. They told me that you’d been hiding out in Montana at your grandmother’s ranch. All this fucking time, you’ve been alive and content in another state, happily living your life while I tormented myself with thoughts that you were dead, that I’d never fucking see you again,” Max growled, angry now that he’d gotten over feeling sorry for himself. He’d never been soul mates with this woman. Everything between them had always been a lie. “Why marry me? It wasn’t like you didn’t have your own money,” he rasped, pissed that he had ever been such a sucker for her beautiful eyes and sweet demeanor. “And where the hell is this other guy? Did you run away from him, too?”
She struggled beneath him, twisting and turning to free her arms from the bulk of his body on top of hers. “I married you because I loved you. I didn’t want anyone else.” Finally her arms came free and she grabbed him on both sides of his head, staring fiercely into his eyes.
Max stared back, losing himself in the depths of a pair of shimmering blue eyes that had never failed to mesmerize him. Always had. And at that moment, just for a brief period of time, he wanted so damn badly to believe her. Because right now…nothing made sense. His mind was whirling from an overabundance of alcohol and all he could see was Mia’s fiery eyes and tempting lips, and kissing her seemed like something he had to do, he needed to do, and to hell with everything else. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them over her head and almost groaned as her breasts jutted out and brushed his chest. He swooped down and covered her mouth with his, sipping from her like a man dying of thirst. She opened to him immediately, like a flower that had just been waiting to fully bloom. Max allowed himself to indulge, and if he wasn’t already drunk on alcohol, he’d be intoxicated by her. Her taste, her smell, her response—everything about her enchanted him, and he couldn’t get enough. God help him, but he was completely lost.
Suddenly, sobriety prevailed. She betrayed me. She’s playing me. And I’m letting her do it knowingly this time.
“Fuck.” The curse flew forcefully from his lips as he tore his mouth away from hers, angry with himself. “What the hell am I doing? I must have some kind of secret masochistic tendencies.”
Mia squirmed out from under him, getting to her feet and leaving him laid out on the couch on his stomach, white spots starting to form in front of his eyes.
Either the couch is twirling, or I’m really wasted.
“I think you need coffee,” she said quietly, walking away and into the kitchen.
“I need you,” he whispered huskily, knowing she couldn’t hear him, and feeling more lonely and abandoned than he’d ever felt in his life. Closing his eyes from the pain he was feeling, all he could think of were the things Kade and Travis had revealed before he’d left to find Mia.
She had to leave…
There was this boyfriend…
She was at Gran’s house in Montana, and I think that’s where she is now…
She never meant to hurt you…
Yeah, I helped her disappear…
The last comment had come from Travis, and Max hadn’t been able to keep himself from trying to throttle the bastard. With the conversation still droning in his muddled mind, he gave in to the darkness that was threatening to consume him. It would give him a brief period of time in which he didn’t need to think.
Being grateful for some sort of mercy, Max promptly passed out.
“Max?” Mia poked him experimentally, and then a little harder when he didn’t respond. Sitting the cup of strong coffee on the end table, she fished in his pocket for his keys and went outside to the sporty little vehicle he had apparently rented. Opening the door, she immediately saw the partial bottle of whiskey sitting on the passenger seat.
“Not enough to kill him, but he’s going to have a pretty horrible hangover in the morning,” she mused, speaking aloud, stunned when something hurtled toward her. A sudden impact with the projectil
e nearly put her on her ass in the dirt.
“Tucker,” she gasped with surprise, removing his paws from her chest and cuddling him when he had all four paws on the front seat. The hound gave her a disapproving look, but he licked her hand as she scratched him, his chubby body shuddering with delight.
After the canine had gotten enough affection, he jumped down and sniffed at the ground to do his business, acting like he wasn’t entirely sure he liked his new surroundings.
“Come,” Mia told Tucker affectionately, taking him into the house and closing the door behind her.
Tucker went immediately to Max’s prone body, sniffing him first, and then positioning himself on the floor right beside the couch, shooting Mia an admonishing look.
“He’s drunk. I didn’t do it. I wasn’t there. Why didn’t you stop him?” she said defensively, and then laughed at herself for having a conversation with her dog and accusing the animal of negligence.
Mia plucked the cup of coffee intended for Max from the table and seated herself in a recliner, wondering why Max had brought Tucker with him. For a man who insisted that he and the dog didn’t like each other, they certainly seemed bonded.
She sipped the hot coffee, watching Max sleep, his eyebrows drawn together as though he were frowning while he slumbered.
As long as she’d known him, she’d never seen Max have more than one drink. He never did anything to excess, and that included not drinking more than he could handle. What had prompted him to drink that way?
Maybe he had felt he needed it to be able to look at me again.
Mia cringed, fairly certain she was the reason for Max’s sudden binge. Why else would he have to slug a ton of cheap whiskey at the end of the drive?
“He hates me, Tucker,” she whispered softly to her dog, getting only what looked like a nod from her canine as he cocked his head. “And he thinks I had another man.”
Maybe it was best for Max to think that she had betrayed him that way so he would hate her completely, but she had to wonder what her brothers had told him. She’d tried Travis’ office phone and Kade’s cell while she had been making coffee, still with no response.
I want to hate you, but I fucking can’t.
Max’s words played over and over in her mind, but she knew that had been the alcohol talking. Every word, every action since he’d come through that door had been from severe intoxication. Nothing he said or did could be taken seriously. Still, that kiss…
“Mia,” Max shouted, rolling over on the couch until he was on his back, thrashing like he was fighting demons in his sleep. “Come back,” he muttered in a low, desperate voice.
Mia set her coffee on the table beside the recliner, went to the couch and sank to her knees. “Max?” She stroked over the bruises on his face softly, wincing as she smoothed the rapidly emerging purple and yellow areas under his eye. She nudged Tucker, getting him to grudgingly move over so she could take his place.
“Mia,” he called out again, his voice getting more desperate.
“Wake up, Max. You’re dreaming,” she told him in a louder, sterner voice.
He sat straight up, his eyes coming open, blinking at the light as though it hurt his eyes. He looked around the room, his gaze finally landing on her face. “You’re here,” he said, sounding relieved.
Mia rose to her feet. “I’m here,” she agreed, reaching her hand out to him.
She knew Max was completely stoned—his eyes glazed over—but it still made her heart surge as he reached out and took her hand with no hesitation at all, like he completely trusted her. “Where are we going?” he mumbled as he got unsteadily to his feet.
“I’m putting you to bed,” she answered adamantly, determined to get him to a more comfortable place to sleep.
He grinned wolfishly at her. “No argument here,” he said happily, his fingers grazing over the ring finger of her left hand. “You’re wearing my ring. You found it.”
Mia didn’t want to tell him she’d never lost it. She’d left it behind, not certain what Travis’ plan had been when he’d sent his men for her, and she wanted to try to stay completely unnoticeable. Max Hamilton wasn’t the type of man to do anything lightly, and he’d bought her a beautiful ring with enough quality diamonds to make a person go blind. It definitely had bling, so she’d reluctantly and intentionally left it behind.
“I am. I love it,” she answered truthfully, wanting to tell him it had rarely left her finger the whole time they’d been apart. But she didn’t. She pulled on his hand, guiding him into her bedroom.
Stopping beside the bed, she nearly giggled at the way Max was swaying slightly, smiling a shit-eating grin she’d never seen on him before. It was naughty. It was hot.
And…he was drunk.
There was no way she was taking advantage of the situation, not to mention the fact that he was so hammered that he probably couldn’t even get it up. She lifted his arms and tugged at the back of his t-shirt, unable to ignore the flex of his powerful biceps as he held his arms out while she pulled the shirt over his head. Her breath hitched as Max’s muscular chest and sculpted abs became visible and she dropped the shirt to the floor, completely ambivalent as to where it landed. Her entire mouth went dry, and she tried desperately not to look anywhere but at his face as she fumbled with the metal button of his jeans.
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.
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, s
he 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.
