I was going to fucking marry her. Not for show. Not for romance. Okay, a little bit for romance. But mainly for protection. The only way I could guarantee she’d be safe from Jackson, from the shadows circling her, from the world she didn’t even understand she was part of, was by having her take my name. My dad was CIA, so he had to earn us some protection, right?
He’d protect his daughter-in-law. I just needed to figure out how to make her say yes. And the first way to get her attention was to ignore her, because Mackenzie loved the chase.
18
MACKENZIE
The darkness seeped in quickly, consuming the cabin entirely. The sound of Max’s footsteps reached me before I saw him. He entered the bedroom, his eyes briefly meeting mine with an unsettling stare, then silently he grabbed his swimsuit from the dresser.
“Max…” I whispered. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t say a single word to me. Not one.
We might as well have been strangers.
Deep down, I knew I’d hurt him. But I had no idea how to make things right. I was terrified that if I got too close, the truth would come out. Max was too bright, too perceptive. He was constantly fiddling with his computer, typing out code, and doing things I didn’t understand. He knew me too well. He wasn’t going to let me get away with it forever.
And when he finally figured it out, he’d leave. He’d just run away. The thought of losing him, even if it was his decision, was unbearable. It was a pain that sank deep inside me.
He didn’t wait for me. He just walked off toward the lake, with Heather asking to join him. He nodded his head yes, and she lapped next to him like a dog. That one small choice rippedme apart in ways I couldn’t even describe. Jealousy consumed me.
My heart actually felt like it was shattering, like tiny pieces of glass exploding inside my chest. When I tried to swallow, I could feel the shards pressing into my vocal cords, silencing the scream that threatened to come out at any moment.
By the time I reached the water, the air hung thick with the sickly scents of sunscreen, sweat, and pine, blending into an unsettling aroma. Our counselor group was mingling with some of Jackson’s. I didn’t recognize most of them. Only Rhett Callahan stood out. He was the one who’d helped me earlier when one of the kids got sick, but now his eyes seemed darker, hungrier. He dragged his eyes up and down my body. I felt like a specimen, like a moth trapped inside a clear glass, fluttering awkwardly to escape.
Was I in my game now? Was he a player?
Rhett and the others shouted and splashed, already knee-deep in the shallows, while Heather and Megan lounged on the dock. Max wasn’t with Heather, which gave me some solace. I stood at the lake’s edge; my towel slung casually over one shoulder. I was trying not to watch Max, who I also noticed was trying not to watch me.
He looked agitated yet stoic. His shoulders were tense. I could see his muscles straining against his shirt as he tried not to look at me.
His backward cap barely kept the messy waves out of his face, and then, as if he knew I was watching, he reached for the hem of his shirt.
My stomach clenched as I watched Heather’s head turn.
His cotton shirt peeled up his torso, revealing every inch of that golden, lean muscle underneath. His broad shoulders, his abs sharp, the tattoo on his arm flexing. I’d seen him like this every single night, every single morning, with only a thin layer of clothing. I’d felt that body pressed against mine, but it wasn’t thesame as seeing him now. He had an audience, and he was aware of it.
And he wasn’t mine to claim, because I had told him so. Because I was an idiot.
From across the dock, Heather’s mouth was nearly hanging open. She nudged Megan, whispering and giggling as if she stood a chance with him.
I mean, did she stand a chance? He had walked with her to the lake. Maybe he had moved on from me already.
That realization hurt. I knew I deserved it. I had been pushing him away. But it didn’t make it easier to deal with.
I looked away before my face gave me away. My jealousy was stirring up anger. If Max wanted to play, so would I.
The second I dropped the swim cover-up, I felt his gaze hit me. He froze mid-step.
The yellow bikini I was wearing was daring, much more risqué than I would typically wear, but I wanted Max to look at me.
His eyes dragged over my body discreetly at first, and then hungrily. He kept going back for another look. His jaw went slack, lips parted. His tongue darted out as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.
And then his expression changed.
His gaze sharpened and darkened. It was as if he was fighting every instinct to cross the space between us and claim me. His hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to grab, touch, hold, and pull me in so close that no one else would dare look.
His eyes dipped to my chest, lingering far too long, and then lower, over the stretch of bare skin on my stomach, the dip of my waist, the high-cut curve of my hips. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. He was remembering everything—the feeling of his hands, his lips, his tongue on my body. I could see it in the way his hands twitched at his sides, the way his body gravitated toward me.
His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. He was furious with want. He looked like he wanted to drag me into the lake, rip the bikini off with his teeth, and remind me exactly who I belonged to.
