She smiled a melancholy smile before she stole another kiss. “Too late.”
She was surprised that he didn’t argue. He simply pulled out of her and laid his head on her chest. Although his silence was better than the row she was positive was coming, it still made her decidedly uneasy. She was proud that she’d been so brave, so honest and open with him, and the relief that seized her was as exhilarating as it was welcome. Max lifted himself from the bed and cleaned up, shocking the hell out of her when, instead of dressing and leaving as he normally did, he crawled back in, snuggling up and holding her closely.
She was even more surprised when, a few hours later, he woke her to make love again. It was heartbreakingly slow and tender, just like the kisses they shared, his voice hoarse with emotion as he talked her through her orgasm, holding her face in his hands, before calling out into her mouth when his followed soon after. It was beautiful and perfect, which made it hurt even more when she awoke again, just before noon, to find his side of the bed empty, with no sign that he was ever there at all.
His time in rehab notwithstanding, Max was more than aware of the stupid shit he’d done in his life. He’d fucked people over, treated them like crap, made impulsive decisions that always came back to bite him, and threw people under the bus with no regret, always making sure that he was the one who came out untarnished when shit hit the fan, no matter who got hurt. Yeah, he was a prize asshole, but that shit wasn’t news. What was news and what really had his brain on fast spin while he lay on his bed in the boardinghouse, his body aching in all the ways it should after a night of incredible sex and very little sleep, was that Max knew he’d finally outdone himself.
Last night.
Shit. Last night.
What had happened between him and Grace had been . . .
He exhaled.
It had been amazing.
Plain and simple. There was no point in denying it. Sex with her always was and last night was no exception.
Christ, he’d been livid on Friday after stumbling upon her and the asshole cop laughing and touching as they went into her house, and he’d had every intention of calling the whole thing off. Standing in the pounding rain, hidden by the trees and watching them like some cheap film cliché, he’d realized he wasn’t prepared to share Grace with anyone, least of all that dick-with-a-badge deputy. He’d run back to her house at 2 a.m. to tell her just that, letting the storm stir his fury further, grumbling to himself about what a stupid decision it was to get involved with anyone, and promising himself that he was going to stay away from women indefinitely to avoid the stress of it all.
Nevertheless, as determined as he had been, somewhere along the line Max’s plan had dissolved into oblivion. It may have had something to do with how hot it was seeing Grace fired up, standing tall, not being intimidated by him, and, strangely, Max couldn’t help but feel that in some small way, he was responsible for the confidence she had to go toe-to-toe with him. Her fire was sexy as hell and when her eyes flashed, challenging him and his accusation, he knew he was fucked.
Of course she hadn’t gone to bed with the prick. Deep down Max had known that all along, stubbornly refusing to investigate why he’d assumed such a thing in the first place. Was it jealousy? Was he so involved with Grace now that jealousy factored in to it? He couldn’t tell, but he knew that seeing that piece of shit put his hands on her had made Max seriously consider homicide.
And then there was the kiss.
He rubbed his hands down his face, trying his damnedest not to think about the taste of her lips, her eager mouth, and her passionate tongue, which lapped at him as if he were some kind of precious elixir or something. He’d promised himself not to let anyone get that close, but hearing her words, her begging, her pleading, her dirty mutterings, after being teased by her impulsive kiss, it was all too much for him to take. The urge to have more had risen through him like a tidal wave. He’d been so fucking foolish to let that happen. Kissing blurred things, created feelings, and that was a minefield Max had no intention of navigating again. And he hadn’t, not for a long time.