Max is staring at me now. "Cassidy?"
I pant, taking shallow breaths. I'm not sure how much time goes by while I try to swallow air, but it's long enough for Max to scoop me up and into his arms. Pressing his back to the shower wall, he holds me between his outstretched legs. My face presses against his warm chest. His arms wrap around me, rocking me.
Pulling wet hair from my face, he whispers in my ear, "I got you. We'll go as slow as you want. For as long as you want."
"Tell me something good," I sniffle, staring atthe spray of water hitting the tiles around our bodies. Tears sting my eyes, but nothing falls. I've run out of tears. I didn't know that was possible. When I recall the feeling of Erik's breath on me, his fingers between my legs, my pulse quickens further, and I clutch my stomach as it rolls with nausea. But I've already emptied it. Now it's just pulsing to no avail.
I really have beenA-lessfor such a long time. But now, Action, Angst, and Anguish are a part of my being. If I was to dance Nikiya tonight, the audience would weep...
Wrapping my hand around his bicep, I say, "Tell me something so I can stop thinking about his words." Words that have changed acts exclusive to an intimate and trusting world with Max alone into something that makes me feel weak—used.
"Okay, think about mine," Max says. "Do you want to know how I feel about you?"
I nod against his chest.
"I never knew how good it would feel to have someone in this simple way. Someone to hold, like this." He squeezes me closer. "If I knew, I would have come looking for you the second I could think for myself... But I never knew how much I'd want it. I had no idea how good it would feel to makeyousmile.Fuck me,I’d do just about anything to make you smile. When you smile at me and I'm the reason... it feels better than being inside you. I'd give up sex to make you smile."
I think I giggle, but it's strange. Choked. Half a sound.
"The weirdest things start to happen when I'm with you. I wanna talk to you. Fuck, yeah, we do that a lot. I didn't know I had anything to say... but when I'm with you, I wanna tell you about my day... and I wanna hear about yours." He gently pushes me from him and cups my cheeks as if they were made of glass. He tilts my head up to see the intensity in his eyes. "I willneverlet anything like thishappen to you again.Never.Do you hear me? Never." His hands shake on my face. "Say it. Say, 'Max will never let anyone hurt me again.’"
As saliva builds up in my throat, I swallow hard.
"I let you down," he continues. "I won’t do it again. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened tonight. I thought I was impenetrable, andIam, but then you came along—fuck. Just say it for me."
"Max will never let anyone hurt me again," I whisper because I know he needs to hear it... Not because I believe anyone—not even Max Butcher—can promise such a thing in the face of the world we now share. Either way, I know he'll try. And at this point, there is no going back. If he leaves me, I'll hurt. If I stay with him, I may get hurt.
Enveloping me in his body, his arms around me tighten. "I failed you, Cassidy."
I shake my head against his chest. "No."
"I should have known better... What happened tonight—Fuck."He pauses and the silence isn’t nice. It's rich in guilt and anger. "I'm going to kill him, Cassidy. I'm going to kill him for you."
Loving me
"Golden Girl."
My eyes slowly bat open. The first thing I see is Max asleep on the hospital chair in front of my bed. Then I roll towards the door and find Toni quietly approaching me.
It takes only two seconds for all the images and conversations from last night to spit into my mind like a dramatic woodchipper, throwing the blended chips of events at me. As I remember those cruel brown eyes, my breath catches. I see myself pushing Max away in the shower, falling to my bum, and trembling in his arms like a stupid, traumatised little girl. I can't let last night control me. I won't.
My eyes land on Max again. His arms are folded across his chest—thick chiselled biceps bulging under his tucked hands. I've been a part of his world for three months and in that small amount of time, I've already seen my fair share of violence and intimidation. How does he have any gentleness left inside after twenty-four years surrounded by murderers, kidnappers, and cruel bastards?
I remember a few months ago when he'd told methat I soften his life. I really understand that today. His world is hard. Hard physically. Hard mentally. Hard to navigate. Hard in every aspect of the word. His face twitches for a moment, so I wonder if he's dreaming about last night. About me.
God, I love him.
He deserves a little softness in his life. There is no way I'll be taking that from him.
Rolling my shoulders, I'm pleased to discover that I'm not as sore this morning and that my nausea has settled. I peer down at the cannula in my hand; it moves beneath my skin when I flex my fingers, and I hate that feeling. When I find Toni again, he's in an emotional state—eyes welling up, swallowing hard.
Stopping beside me, he says, "I don't have words."
I lick my dry lower lip as I whisper, "That's a first."
The emotions spill through him almost uncontrollably. Turning to hide his face from me, he takes a few moments to collect himself.
Sitting up straight, I feign a sense of composure. "Jebus, do I look that bad?"
