“Why?”
“I need to tell you.”
“Youdon’t.” I try to kiss him again; if I can just kiss him, it will distract him from whatever he’s on about, but he keeps just out of reach of my mouth.
Slowly, he walks me backwards, and I don’t resist as he lies me back on his desk. Once my head is on the wood, he presses my hands above me, and trails one callused palm down my arm, stopping once he reaches my chest and squeezing before carrying on.
“I love you,” he says.
The words cause panic to course through me, but his grip tightens on my wrist, pinning me where I am stretched out beneath him.
“You don’t—” I say, and I meanYou can’t.I can’t.
Our lower bodies are pressed together and I feel his length against me through the thin spandex of my shorts. It would be so easy for him to pull them off my legs and slide into me in the name of trying to reach a goal we’ve already achieved.Thatis familiar,thatwe know.
“You don’t know me.” I attempt to speak evenly, but I’m still breathless and my voice wavers on the last word.
“I do.” Maxim brings his face so close above mine that I can look nowhere else. His breath is uneven, too. “You crave control in every situation and when you can’t have it, you lash out. You pretend you hate everyone because you are afraid of them getting too close to you. You are so insanely stubborn and so fucking brave.”
“Maxim,” I choke, but he’s just getting started.
“You areterrifiedof real intimacy because you can’t stomach the thought of anyone being close enough to see you. To openyourself up to hurt. But you love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You care so deeply.”
“That’s not true,” I deny, but my throat feels tight, my eyes glassy as he goes on without relent.
“What have you been doing if not caring for me, Marianna?” He speaks with an urgency that makes me feel fragile. “Wearing my clothes, thinking of me, killing for me, taking care of me in your quiet and thoughtful ways? You may never love me, but you care, and you know I’ve loved you.”
My breath hitches as he speaks. I can almost see how I must look in the reflection of his eyes; like a scared and cornered animal. It’s how I feel, any shred of control I thought I had in this conversation completely eviscerated.
“Don’t cry,” he mutters so gently and wipes my cheeks. “Call it whatever you’d like, but I am yours. I love you in a way that is intense and overwhelming. I think I’ll die from the presence you have in my chest, from the worry that something could happen to you when I’m not there.”
“No.”
“Ido. I have, For months now, probably since before the wedding—since you came into my life like a tornado, tossing everything up and spinning it around. Of course I’ve loved you.”
“I hate you.” My voice breaks, and I close my eyes tightly. I pray he believes me while I also pray he sees right through me to the truth I cannot voice. That I’ve never hated him, never been able to. I never stood a chance in the fight against falling for him.
Maxim only exhales and touches me with that same tenderness, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw then my lower lip.
“You can hate me,” he says. “Just hate me from here.”
Idly, I do wonder how many times I must push him away before his resolve breaks? Is that what I’ve been testing in constantly needling him? Pushing into his feelings like a bruiseto see at what point I become so insufferable that he’ll see what I believe about myself? That only those bound by blood are capable of loving me, or tolerating me?
I am desperate for him to stay, to call my bluff, but I don’t know how to admit this, how to tell him how much I want him to stay.
Maxim releases my wrists and rubs them where he’d been holding them in place. His other hand cradles my skull, pressing my face to his shoulder. I sniffle against the black fabric that smells like him and even smells like me now.
“Hate me from our home, our bed, our kitchen over tea—hate me all you want. You never have to love me.”
“I cannot keep you safe if I love you,” I admit. “There’s no room.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. I watch your back and you watch mine. The entire world doesn’t have to be on your shoulders. You can share the weight.”
I bite my tongue, not ready to say anything more, but nod again and wrap my arms around his neck. He lifts us and holds me tight against him for long minutes, until my eyes are dry and the music downstairs has died for the night.
36
MAXIM
