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.”