“You’re going with me?” He asks, and I think I hear a small thread of surprise in his voice.
“I’m going with you,” I confirm, my heart speeding up in fear. I’m going with him. I can’t not go. Max is what I have been missing my whole life. He brings that feeling of belonging with him that I had never had and always wanted. Maybe soulmates are real? I mean, who really knows. Maybe in the whole world, there is only one person you are meant to be with and when you meet them or even see a picture of them you know it instantly. If that’s true, then I don’t need to defend my actions or explain them. It doesn’t matter to anyone but Max and me. So, fuck yeah. I’m going with him. I could almost smile at how freeing that becomes.
Max grabs my neck and pulls my face up so he can see me. I don’t bother to hide the small smile on my face. I’m happy. For now, I am happy. I don’t know how long it will last, but hell I could die tomorrow walking out on the street. I’m going to take this time with Max, and...Be happy.
“I’ll call Marcum tomorrow and set things in motion,” he says, his hand clenching and unclenching against the side of my neck.
“Okay, Max.”
“My Tess…” he says, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen a light in his dark eyes. I put that light there. I put a light in his eyes. Me.
“Always,” I tell him. He growls and takes my mouth hard and when his tongue finishes plundering me, and we break apart; I see yet another side to the tarnished night in my deliciously wicked fairy tale.
He grins, not a big grin; it’s a cocky, whiplash kind of grin that instantly makes my pulse jump and my knees weak. He puts the soap in my hands and leans back on the shower wall. “Wash me,” he orders. My lips spread into a smile. I like this Max. This all-conquering male, in charge and… my heart stalls. Happy? That’s it. He seems, happy. I’ve seen so many sides to Max, but I don’t think I’ve taken the time to realize that I’ve never seen him happy. My heart flutters and flops and starts beating hard in my chest, because that realization feels big.
So I wash my man. It doesn’t matter what he says. He’s mine as much as I am his. He doesn’t have to acknowledge it for me to know it. I take my time, savoring every line, every scar, every beautiful inch of Max, and I commit it to memory. However long I have, I will hold on to every second of every minute of every fucking hour.
I might have taken extra time gliding the small green bar of soap along the stomach, down his thighs, around his balls and to that hard, jutting, hot cock that stands out so proud from his body; demanding attention. Attention that I wanted to give him. I don’t get the chance to act on my own thoughts though, because Mad Max, the conqueror, takes over. He pushes me down on my knees. His hands, twisting in my hair again. I firmly grasp his cock in my hand, stroking him up and down one slow turn, watching Max’s reaction.