I nod. “Sorry for tonight, about our plans.”
“It can wait. I can wait.”
Holding his big, warm arm around my shoulders, he leads me to his car.
“Do you have anything I can clean your wounds off with at home?” he asks after we’re out of the garage.
“Yeah.” As he veers into the street, I suddenly change my mind. “I don’t want to go home. Grams will worry if she sees the scratches.”
“Okay. Do you want to go to my place?”
“Sure.” I inspect the wound on my leg, which runs pretty deep, blood marring half of my knee. I can’t see my elbow properly, but it burns.
We enter Max’s apartment a short while later. After we both kick off our shoes, he leads me toward the enormous couch in the living room, gesturing for me to sit on it. If I weren’t so focused on my wounds, I’d be busy inspecting my surroundings. As it is, I’m working hard not to whimper the entire time.
“Wait here, I’ll bring something to clean off your wounds.”
He returns almost immediately, holding a bottle in one hand and cotton pads in the other.
“This will sting,” he warns, kneeling in front of me.
“I can do it.” I attempt to snatch the cotton pads from his hand, but he shakes his head.
“Let me do this for you, Emilia. I want to.”
Gritting my teeth, I brace myself as Max pours peroxide on the pad. He starts with my knee, and holy fuck.
“Agh. Damn it,” I exclaim. “Stings so much.”
“It’s not deep,” Max says, inspecting my wound. He repeats the process with my elbow, which stings even more than my knee did. As soon as he’s done, I pull my arm back.
Max chuckles. “Show me your elbow. I want to check if there’s any dirt left.”
Stubbornly, I keep my arm back.
“Should I bribe you with sweets? Or more adult bribes? Vodka? My kind of mattress exercises?” His expression instantly changes to serious. “Sorry! That last part just slipped out.
”
“You’ve been throwing innuendos and flirting shamelessly for four weeks, but now you’re sorry?” This downright mystifies me, considering he’s been relentless until now.
“Yeah, but I’m cleaning off the wounds you got while trying to get away from a jerk. Innuendos are the last thing you need.”
“What do you need?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re the important one now. Not just now, as a matter of fact. Always.”
For long moments, I’m too stunned to speak. His dark gaze holds mine, warm and reassuring.
“Wow,” I say eventually. “You’re something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say I’m not used to men being this considerate.” Sure, I’ve never settled for anything less than respect, but it seemed like I always had to demand it. None of the men I’ve been with put me first out of their own initiative, as if doing that somehow undermined their masculinity. Max is man enough to not only make me feel like he’s putting me first, but also say it out loud with a sense of pride.
After placing the bottle of peroxide and the pads on the coffee table in front of us, Max sits next to me on the couch, placing his hand at the small of my back.
“Told you! You’ve been around the wrong men. All the more points for me.”