His dark eyes studied me for a long moment, and his full lips twisted in a frown. Finally, he cursed and dropped his jeans, striding toward me in nothing but his boxers. Without another word about the dangers of his mafia family or the challenges we faced, he slipped into bed beside me. I settled in close to him, tucking my face against his chest and holding him tight with my arm around his middle. His muscles were tense beneath me for a few minutes, but the post-orgasmic glow quickly blanketed both of us. His breathing turned deep and even, and my heartbeats slowed to match his.
Before any niggling worries could penetrate my mind, I fell into blissful sleep with Max at my side.
MAX
Allie’s soft gasp tugged me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She jerked in my hold, and in my half-lucid state, my arms reflexively firmed around her to pull her closer. Her gentle, floral scent surrounded me, and her soft skin beneath my grasping hands felt too good to release her.
“Max,” she breathed, squirming in my iron hold. Her small struggle only provoked the beast in me, and I rumbled a warning growl as I caged her more tightly. I remembered the way she’d gasped my name last night, when she’d trembled and whimpered for an orgasm only I could give her.
My eyes remained closed, still half-asleep, and I pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. I couldn’t let her go. Last night, I’d touched her like no other man had before; she’d given herself to me. Allie was mine.
She melted against me, soothing my most savage impulses. Her warm breath teased over my chest as she blew out a sigh. “I have to go to work,” she mumbled, her lush lips brushing my skin. “I’ll be late. Max,” she prompted breathily again when I didn’t ease my grip on her delicate frame.
Say my name. The memory of how I’d handled her burst through my mind, yanking me to full awareness. For a few lust-maddened hours, I’d been my old self again. I’d been demanding and in full control during a sexual encounter. I hadn’t touched a woman in more than two years. I’d never imagined that I’d be welcomed into anyone’s bed ever again.
But Allie had surrendered to my darker needs, giving me everything I craved.
No, it hadn’t been like the days before my father had scarred me. It’d been far more intense—I’d been far more intense. Because I was with Allie, and my need to possess her in every way overrode all reason when I had her in my arms.
When I was with her, I forgot my scar. I forgot my ever-present rage and guilt. I deluded myself that I was worthy.
And that scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know how to exist without that rage, without my burning, singular purpose: to bring down Ron Fitzgerald and restore my rightful place in my family.
Allie’s father was my most hated enemy, but she was what I craved with maddened desperation. Possibly more than I craved revenge against her father. More than I desired to restore my own honor and earn my father’s respect.
Abruptly, I released her and rolled away, hastily getting to my feet. I didn’t allow myself to look at her as I jerked on my jeans and boots. I wasn’t sure if I could maintain my sanity if I saw her beautiful body in the morning light.
Fuck. I tugged my hair over my scar, trying to hide the worst of the damage. She’d be able to see me with stark clarity now that the sunlight was filtering through her blinds. I had more scars on my chest and abs: three long, thin slashes from an enemy’s knife. Innocent, sweet Allie would be repulsed by the fact that I’d killed the Russian motherfucker who’d attacked me when I was thirteen. Before I’d made him scream and beg for his miserable life, while my sadistic cousins showed me how to inflict the most agony.
“Wait.” Her voice hitched slightly, giving the demand a beseeching edge. “Will I see you tonight? I want to talk more.”
I ground my teeth. I wanted to see her again more than anything, but talking wasn’t what I wanted to do with her. There was too much complicated shit to work through, and I didn’t want her to know about the darkest parts of my life. She might ask about my mafia family. She might ask about my scars.
A small shudder rolled through my body, and I unconsciously mussed my hair again. The prospect of Allie knowing my deepest shame made my stomach turn. I’d been drunk on my power over her last night, lost in our intoxicating chemistry. I didn’t want her to learn my greatest weakness or my darkest deeds.