Case in point…the one thing I can’t seem to let slip through my damn fingers once and for all.
Thump, thump, thump.
My heart is off to the races, and slowing it down now is impossible. Tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention as I grasp the brass doorknob and twist it, pulling open the door.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Max, the only man I’ve ever loved and the one I swear time and time again to finally forget, leans against my railing. I don’t think he could look sexier if he tried, even at three o’clock in the morning. Stubble peppers the lower half of his face, his thick, dark hair is pointed in a million different directions like he’s been tossing and turning for hours, raking his fingers through it. I bite down hard on my lower lip, fighting off the images of his naked, muscular body sliding against the sheets, his long legs tangled around them. God, I’d have loved to have been a fly on the wall watching that beautiful sight…
“Why is that my problem?” I snap, a hand on my hip.
“Maybe because I really needed some Raisinets tonight and you wouldn’t take the bait to invite me over.”
“So you took it upon yourself to stop by.”
“I texted you first.”
“I didn’t respond. I could have been out. Or working. Or still pissed off.”
“But you’re here. And you answered the door.”
“I’m still pissed off.”
“I’m still trying to make it up to you.”
I fold my arms over my way-too-skimpy pajamas, shivering from the gust of cold air that assaults me.
“If you’re gonna debate for a while longer, you should probably put this on.” He shrugs off his leather jacket and hands it to me. I stare at his outstretched hand and roll my eyes, holding open the door. “Come in,” I murmur, backing inside the small foyer as he moves toward me. I breathe deeply when he comes into my space, the spicy scent of his cologne filling the air and infusing my senses with everything that is him—the smoldering bad boy, leather-jacket-wearing older brother of my best friend who could always make my knees quiver with only a quick smile.
Even when he was throwing worms at me when we were kids.
I should have known back then I was doomed.
Why am I doing this to myself again? I’ve done it twice already, and I know how it ends!
I should tell him to go. Now. And to never ever come back.
But the expression on his face makes me swallow those words. There’s a heaviness surrounding him, stronger than anything I’ve felt before. It’s as powerful as the electricity crackling between us. Both of those forces seem to be battling against each other, though, and the flicker of emotion in Max’s heated gaze dies out seconds after he steps inside the apartment. In the end, the somberness he carries extinguishes the spark between us, leaving me raw and exposed.
I don’t like it one bit. And I don’t understand why that doom and gloom always seems to prevail.
Why can’t I win? Just once, dammit! What the hell keeps holding him back? And why won’t he talk to me about it?
But that’s Max. Quick with a sarcastic quip or a joke, but nothing of substance ever tumbles from those perfectly bitable lips. It’s something I’ve come to accept.
Kind of.
But at this point, I don’t even know what I’m accepting. For a couple of months, he’d come over, beaten down, quiet, brooding, almost like he just needed to be with someone who wouldn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. Someone who would play Overwatch and Fortnite with him and always had Raisinets in the house. Someone who was all too willing to give him everything he wanted but wouldn’t ask for anything in return.
Surprise! That pathetic someone was…is…yours truly. So I talked and joked about anything I could think of, donating hours of my time to mindless video games, anything to keep him coming back since that’s all he seemed to want, and I’d take whatever shreds of attention he was willing to give in the hopes that his feelings might change. He hadn’t laid a finger on me, though his eyes always seemed to betray his intentions. It’s almost as if his body wanted more, but his mind and heart knew he didn’t have it to give.
I knew it, too.
So I guess that makes me a glutton for punishment.
Friendship was all I’d been offered. And it was all I was going to get.
He inches toward me, and a chill slithers down my spine. My skin prickles under the pads of his rough fingertips as they graze my bare arms. I forget to breathe for a second as his fingers slide up the sides of my face, caressing my lips and my cheeks. His face is so close to mine, his breath hot against my face.
What is happening here? Did I just wander into some kind of an alternate reality? Dammit, I have tried so hard to detest this guy, but he always manages to melt away any of my inhibitions.
How can I just forget everything that’s happened between us? How can I forgive him when he’s broken my heart one time too many?
But, mmm…good Lord, I just want to taste those lips one time to see if they are everything I’ve imagined them to be. I can deal with that. One kiss, one beautiful mess of a second where I come apart in his arms and experience the bliss I’ve dreamed about for so long that I’m actually embarrassed to admit it.
My sensibilities tell me to stop this obsessing…now. Voices echo in my head, warning me that this is a dead end, that there is too much he hasn’t told me, too much that will end up hurting me, too much that he can’t escape. Too much that he’ll never give in return.
Because I’m not as ignorant as they all think. Max, Shaye, Nico, Rocco, Kat…God, they must think I live under a rock, that their lifestyle doesn’t raise any eyebrows, that it’s perfectly natural to be flushed with cash and not do the work to justify it all.
At least, not the kind of work that warrants a legitimate paycheck.
That scares the hell out of me because there’s a darkness that looms over them and their families. I may not have all of the answers, but I can connect most of the dots. I’ve seen The Godfather. I watched The Sopranos.
I’ve known for years that they’re sons and daughters of the underworld, although they’ve kept me pretty well-shielded from exactly what that means…what they do, where they go, and how they operate.
And I suspect there is something more than just sex that kept him away on Thanksgiving, something he’ll never admit to me. I can feel it when he looks at me now, when he came so close to kissing me at Shaye’s party…the burden of what he carries is something he’ll never be able to share.
So as much as I want Max…have always wanted Max…I know I can’t have him. Not the way I need him. Our lives are too different. I like to drive in the right lane where it’s safe and protected, and he’s speeding past me in the far-left lane, throwing caution to the wind and living for the moment because his choices don’t guarantee anything more than that. Rule follower meet rule breaker.
Oh yes, I’m aware of the risks of getting too close.
But right now, I just want to feel Max’s strong arms wrap around me, blanketing me in his deliciously soapy scent. My nipples tingle, hard enough to cut through glass right about now, and believe me when I say there isn’t a place on my body that isn’t awake, alert, and ready for action.
Until I open my stupid mouth and my mind finally has the good sense to take over.
This has to stop before I fall any deeper under his spell.
I have to break it, or it’ll break me.
“Why did you come here, Max?”
His eyebrows furrow and he drops his hands, stepping away from me. I hug my arms around myself, bracing my body from the impending deep freeze, the same one that settles into my bones every time he leaves.
“I needed to see you,” he murmurs, his eyes drawn and troubled.
“But why? We’ve been doing this dance for months, and I’m not sure I understand the point. You’d come over, sober, drunk, whatever. And you’d make me talk about myself. Work, school, my dad, my damn car.” I throw my hands in
the air. “What do you want from me? I’m not your friend. Friends give as much as they get. You give me nothing.” I tug on the ends of my hair and let out a groan. “Look, I’m just not sure what you’re after. How many more times am I supposed to turn the other cheek? And that girl…finding you with her like that when you were supposed to be with me? You don’t care about my feelings at all, so why should I waste my time on you?”
“That’s not true. I care about you more than I do myself. And I’m telling you the truth when I say nothing happened between us, I didn’t sleep with her. I wanted to be with you on Thanksgiving, but I needed to take care of something.”
“There’s more of your code language. I have no idea what that even means—you had to ‘take care of something’. I’m not part of your world, and I don’t understand any of it, so what do you want from me? It’s clearly not sex since you haven’t even tried to kiss me.” Oh, crap. I didn’t mean for that to slip out. Fuck my life, first the girlfriend slip-up and now this. It’s not like I’ve been fantasizing about kissing him, having sex with him, really anything with him for twenty-four hours a day or anything crazy like that.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Max’s voice rumbles through me like a wave gathering force and speeding its way out in the ocean, preparing for the inevitable swirl and crash over the shore. And that half-smile, those deep-set eyes filled with something devious and delicious…Jesus, I could melt into a puddle right here and now.
How very sad for me.
“I didn’t say that so you would…I just meant…” I let out an exasperated sigh and avert my eyes, trying again to put these irrational feelings into actual words. “I’m not looking for anything. I’m confused, Max. Especially because…well, why now? We already went down this path before, and it didn’t work. Remember? You decided it was a bad idea to get involved because of Shaye. Then later you decided you just wanted to be friends. So I put myself out there and you stomped all over me again. So, why’d you come back? Third time’s the charm?” I let out a dry laugh and push past him, mumbling to myself. “Or maybe the better question would be why did I open the damn door tonight?”
“Do you know I don’t have one single friend in this world whom I trust completely?”
I stop in my tracks, my hand on the handle of the refrigerator. “Come on. What about Nico?”
He follows me into the kitchen and leans against the counter. “Nope.”
I slam the fridge shut. “Why don’t you trust anyone?”
“Because I’ve been disappointed enough times to know that there isn’t anyone I can really count on a hundred percent.” He shrugs and runs his fingers through his tousled hair. “I love Nico, don’t get me wrong. But he has priorities, and I’m not at the top of that list. When push comes to shove, everyone looks out for themselves. I’ve found that out the hard way.”
“That’s a really pessimistic view.”
“It’s how I feel.”
“Okay,” I say, slowly padding toward him. “So you don’t trust anyone. That still doesn’t answer my questions.”
“Do you know that most of the time I’m wound tighter than a fucking top? But somehow, whenever I’m around you, all of that tension, that suffocating feeling just disappears for a while. I ask you to talk about stuff because I only want to concentrate on listening to your voice. It drowns out all the fucking noise that crowds my brain. What goes on in here…” he snickers and pokes at his temple. “It’s fucking deafening. And the noise never dies out. It’s always there. There’s no off switch. But, I don’t know, being with you just mutes it all. I listen, I focus, and I get a break from the shit consuming me on a daily basis.”
I jut out a hip and cock an eyebrow. “Great, so you’re using me as a form of mental therapy. This just keeps getting better and better.”
Max sighs and pushes his hair back. “I’m not using you, Sloane. I just want to be around you. There’s this thing you have…I can’t explain it, but it just…I don’t know, calms me. Makes me stop and take a breath. Forces me to enjoy what’s right in front of me instead of constantly looking over my shoulder.” He shrugs. “Sometimes I just need a break from my life. You’re like my own private vacation on our own tropical island somewhere with no distractions, no obligations, just the two of us.”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. I have so many questions. Maybe this is why he never talks. Evidently, he’s smarter than I am.
“I didn’t mean to lay all of that on you. I know I didn’t deserve another chance, but I just hoped...” He shakes his head. ”It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry if you think I’m using you. It won’t happen again.” He straightens up and smiles at me, a sad, forlorn smile that makes my heart clench. “Thanks for listening to me this time.” He turns, walking toward the front door.
“Wait,” I murmur, ignoring the voices begging me to shut the hell up and telling me to let him go. I want to know what he hoped. I have to find out. “I don’t want you to go.”
He slowly pivots, and I can see a flicker of desire in his eyes. A swarm of butterflies I didn’t even know had taken up residence swarm my belly, the fluttering gathering force and speed as Max closes the space between us. “I never meant to hurt you, Sloane.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “You’re the best friend I have.”
Lust swirls in the air between us. It’s so thick, I can barely draw in a breath. But still, he doesn’t make a move. He just stares at me, almost as if he’s in a trance. Maybe that’s what he needs.
But do I want to be that escape? Do I want to be the one he runs to because he can’t deal with his choices?
Do I really want to ask any more questions at this second?
That would be a big, resounding no.
I reach behind his head, skimming my fingers over the back of his neck. The skin is smooth and soft beneath my fingers. He lets out a little moan that begs me not to stop, to draw him closer, to taste his lips.
And I know one taste isn’t going to be nearly enough. One taste will be instant addiction with no plans for rehab.
He winds his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. He slides his fingers under the hem of my flimsy tank top, over my hips, up the curve of my spine. I have to chomp the inside of my mouth to keep my screams for joy deep inside of me.
Two years ago, I thought it might actually be our time. We took things slow because of Shaye, and then without warning, everything fizzled before we’d even shared our first kiss. After standing me up on Thanksgiving, I swore I’d never fall into his rabbit hole again. I promised myself I’d fight off the insatiable craving that clouds my head and my judgment whenever he’s near.
Yet, here I am once more, my body begging for the mercy only he can provide.
I lost the fight.
But I’m still in the ring.
He dips his head, our foreheads touching. My eyes drift closed, and I tilt my head back, my lips beckoning him, testing him to see if this is really what he wants…if I’m what he wants.
An electric charge jolts my insides when his lips crash against mine, his fingertips pressed into the small of my back, pushing me against his chest as his tongue plunges into my greedy mouth. I fist his hair, breathless and more aroused than I’ve ever been as the coiling heat of our tongues tangle with a hunger that is foreign to me.
I rub my hands down his massive biceps, tracing the indentations of muscle. Oh, sweet Jesus, I need more. I want to feel more. I want to taste more.
I’ve never been so damn greedy for a man in my entire life.
Max pulls away slightly, gazing down at me with a concerned look. “I want you, Sloane. I want this. But if you’re not okay with it, we can stop. I know I need to make you trust me again, and I’ll wait.” He sweeps a hand down the side of my face. “You’re worth it. You’re worth everything.”
My chest heaves, my pulse throbbing against my neck. “I don’t want to stop. I want this, too.” Because I fucking love you! Thank God I swallow that last bit before I end up soundi
ng like some crazy clinger bitch.
But those damn voices pepper me with questions again.
What does this mean? What does he want from me? Is it just sex or something more?
Now I’m the one who needs the off switch.
His smile widens, and I don’t think I could be happier than I am in this moment. I grasp his hand and pull him toward my bedroom. He reaches for me, snaking his arms around my waist, lips scorching a path down the back of my neck. I’m so consumed with lust, I forget to move. I just stop, allowing the carnal haze to blissfully fog up my mind.
Max spins me around, lifting me into his arms and carrying me into the bedroom. I lock my ankles tight around his waist, tugging at his black t-shirt. I slide it over his head, and he pulls out one arm at a time, never once letting me go. I swallow a gasp when my eyes fall to his perfectly chiseled pecs and the ink that covers them.
I run my fingers over the ripples and grooves, my brows furrowing at the long, deep indentations beneath the swirling lines and images covering his chest.
Scars. So many scars. All different shapes and sizes.
I raise my eyes to his, questioning him without speaking a single syllable, but he has no response. I know he can tell what I’m thinking, what I’ve always suspected but never wanted to acknowledge, but still no explanations come forth. His gaze begs me not to ask the questions…ones he doesn’t want to answer, once I’m not sure I even want answered myself.
I’m not as naïve as they all think. I know that business is code for something a lot more dangerous. What I don’t know is exactly how much more dangerous.
Max’s words float back into my hazy consciousness…always looking over my shoulder, nobody to trust, the life I lead, choices I’ve made…
And the code of that life is written all over his body.
He’s waiting for me to make my decision, my cue for whether or not I want to get in any deeper than I already am. But the reality is that I’m already drowning, and he’s the only one who can save me.
I take his face in my hands and graze his lips with my own, giving him the answer he needs. He tightens his grip on me, his cock thickening against the barely there pajama shorts still clinging to my body. I raise my arms and he pulls off my tank top, taking each one of my breasts into his mouth, kneading them and suckling the nipples with his tongue and teeth. He gently lays me onto the center of the bed, and my body sinks into the fluffy down comforter. He loops his thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and slowly slides them down to my ankles along with my panties. He fumbles with his belt buckle, his smoldering gaze never vacating from my face even though I’m lying naked beneath him. He never peeks, just focuses on my eyes, like he’s trying to see what’s shielded behind them…the same thing I try to do with him.
Betraying the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 3) Page 6
