I huff and get back under the covers. I try to hold my body stiff against him, but he turns so that he spoons me from behind, and the heat from his body weakens my resolve. Max wastes no time taking advantage of that when he kisses the curve of my neck. Just one soft touch from him and my mind goes to mush.
“First, Tess, let’s clear up the fact that you are not my hostage. You stopped being that when you decided to leave with me. Whatever this is, I think it’s safe to say that we’re in it together now, right?”
I release a pent up breath at his words. He’s right. There’s no one holding me to Max now, but myself. It’s time I owned up to that.
“You’re right.”
“Second, it’s not that I mind talking about Marcum, It’s just… I never really have before. Marcum feels like he owes me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve told him he doesn’t, he still feels like he does.”
He burrows his head against the back of my neck kissing me. It’s distracting, and maybe that’s what he wants. I’m not sure. I try to grasp his words, but I can’t help feeling like a very big piece of the puzzle is missing.
“Why would he feel like he owes you? Did you save the life of one of his twenty children or something?”
He squeezes me and laughs, “Tess.”
“Well, I mean it can’t have escaped your notice that Marcum has a lot of kids, Max. The man must have like super sperm or something.”
“Can we not talk about Marcum’s sperm while we’re in our bed?”
I smile when he says, our bed. I can’t help it. “Why not? Do his little soldiers intimidate you, Max?” I joke.
“Jesus. How is it you always manage to bust my balls, Tess?”
“It’s a gift?”
“I’m beginning to ask myself which one of us actually got taken prisoner that day.”
His words give me a funny feeling, and it warms me. I don’t want to give myself time to dissect it though. I’ve already had one irrational, emotional outburst tonight. “Okay so, Marcum?” I prompt because I really do want to know. Max is a mystery, and I want to know more and more about him.
“He’s my old man.”
I blink, lie still, and then blink again. Shouldn’t that have been in his file? How did I not know that? “Your records never mentioned it! How is that possible?”
“Because the old fucker has super sperm?”
I slap backwards, grazing Max’s leg that he has half draped over me. “You know what I mean.”
Max sighs, his breath soft against my skin. “You’ve read about my mom?” he asks, and I swallow hard because I have.
Max’s mom had been raped as a young girl. It broke her mind. She spent her troubled life in and out of hospitals and being strung out on drugs. She got pregnant at the age of fourteen and had the baby—Max, while a resident in the state mental hospital because she tried to kill herself. I couldn’t even imagine how it would shape someone to know that the person who gave birth to them struggled with so much. What kind of scars would that inflict on you?
“I’ve read,” I whisper, like a guilty secret, wrapping my arm behind me and pulling him deeper into me, as if to protect him.
“I’m okay, Kitten,” he kind of laughs, like he knows what I’m doing. “It was a long time ago.”
“How did she and Marcum meet up?”
“Marcum is a horny bastard, until Cherry he never cared much where he stuck his dick.”
“But she was fourteen, Max,” I answer, and I can’t help the disgust that’s in my voice.
“That’s part of the reason he and I are just now starting to work through shit. He says he didn’t know how young she was, or what shape she was in. Said she out and out lied to him.”
I turn over to face him, fitting my body tight into him and kissing his chest, trying to ignore the tears that have started up yet again. “You believe him?”
Max lets out yet another sigh, this one louder and more disgusted than before. “Sometimes. Most days I guess. I’m not sure how much he would have cared about her situation, but I don’t think he would have touched jailbait. Who knows? Men are stupid when they think with their dick. I’ve managed to follow in the old man’s footsteps, despite trying like hell not too.”
I can’t argue with him, but I can’t help the way those words cut. Max must feel the change in me because he kisses his forehead. “Wasn’t talking about you, Kitten.” That’s nice, but then again what we’re doing isn’t exactly healthy. I let it go. I could second guess and go back and forth about Max forever. I do that enough already.
“Your file said your uncle raised you. Why didn’t Marcum?”
“He didn’t know about me. Bastard came into my shop one day wanting some ink for him and his boys. Said he heard I was good. One of the men who work in my shop mentioned my mom’s name. We’ve been feeling our way with each other ever since.
“Holy hell.”
Max laughs though it’s not a happy one. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, Kitten.”