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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: IF YOU CAN'T SEE IT
The ride back to her office was horrid.
Max knew she should say something.
But what was there to say?
She wrapped her arms around herself, curling her body tight in his cramped car seat.
“Max?” His voice was quiet but piercing through the silence of the car.
She shook her head.
She didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Not right now anyway.
She’d had enough.
Enough of the pictures.
Enough of the worry.
Enough of everything.
She just wanted to think about something else. “You apologized to me.”
“What?” He sent her a confused sidelong look.
“You said you were sorry,” she said. “Before. In your office. You said you were sorry. If it wasn’t for the pictures, then what were you sorry for?”
He inhaled, remembering, and nodded. “For how I treated you last night,” he answered. “For the way I handled things at Bits ‘n’ Pieces. It was reprehensible.”
Max’s brow crinkled. How he treated her last night. At Hallie’s shop. It was reprehensible? “What do you mean?” Did he regret it? Had he not enjoyed it?
She still remembered the hungry look on his face, still thought about the satisfaction rumbling from his throat.
No, he’d enjoyed himself last night. She knew he had. He’d loved every second of it. She was sure.
Hadn’t he?
“I pushed you.” He shook his head. “I pushed farther than I should have. Than I’d planned to. I took advantage of you.” He huffed and bowed his head, obviously angry. With himself, it seemed. “And then to top it off, I just left you. No,” he groaned and rolled his head back, “I didn’t just leave you. I made you drive yourself home. Alone.”
Max sat back and stared at him blankly. That was what he was worried about?
“I knew you were vulnerable,” he continued. “And I made you drive home alone. I should have made you stay until you’d recovered. I should have driven you home. At the very least, I should have followed you home.” He sighed. “But I didn’t. And I’m sorry for that.”
What? Did he honestly think that a little sex, however fun and exciting and good, would blow her mind? Did he think he’d changed her forever? That she was now so ruined by his amazing prowess that she needed his—what—comfort in the goddamned afterglow?
“I was fine,” she told him. And in addition and more importantly. “I am fine.”
She wasn’t some sweet little virgin like Kat.
She’d had a lot of sex.
Well, maybe not a lot of sex but—you know—a reasonable sampling, and definitely more involved than what they’d done in those dressing rooms.
She’d certainly never needed some man holding her hand afterward.
She was a big girl. An adult woman. She could damn well take care of herself.
He pulled off the road and wove through her parking ramp, stopping next to her car. He shut off the engine, unfastened his seatbelt, and turned to face her, his chiseled features hard and determined. “I’ve never pushed a partner like that. Not without explicit negotiations. Not without us both agreeing to the limits and boundaries. Beforehand. I know better than that.” His jaw set squarely. “I’m better than that,” he insisted, though no one was arguing with him. “And I owed you better than that.”
Max’s lips thinned and she took a calming breath, just trying to parse out everything that he was throwing at her. Could he never say or do or be what she expected? Did he always have to catch her with her guard down?
Slowly, deliberately, she clicked the seatbelt latch. “Okay,” she started, holding up an emphasizing finger as she spoke, “for the last time, I’m fine.”
He tried to interrupt her but she halted his reply. “I chose to come to that shop. To meet you there, knowing our brief but interesting history. I agreed to the terms I accepted and didn’t to the ones I didn’t. There may have been prompting on your part,” she allowed, “but pushing?” Force or coercion? She scoffed and leveled him with a mocking glare. “As if you could.” She cocked her head defiantly. “I do what I want.” She shrugged. “Even if that’s you.”
He let out a lilt of laughter. “Fair enough. I still behaved badly afterward.” His lips twitched. “Even empowered women can appreciate a little aftercare.”
She sniffed. She supposed she wasn’t opposed to a little attention and affection after the act. After all, while she didn’t need it, in the past, she’d always been a little irked by the men who just got up and left or rolled over and slept. She enjoyed cuddling and pillow talk as much as the next person.
She just didn’t need it. Not the way the girls on TV or in movies did. She’d never held it against a man.
Should she have?
Max believed in being assertive in bed. She asked for what she wanted. And got what she asked for, most of the time. But, though she often wanted it, or at least would have liked to have it offered, she’d never asked to be held by a lover. If he wanted to, she would let him. But, if he didn’t…
That was messed up, wasn’t it?
She could ask a man to go down on her. Could tell him to fuck her brains out. But a hug—a little post-coital embrace—was too much for her to ask?
“Point taken.” She gave an acknowledging nod. “And apology accepted. But,” she amended quickly, “I’m perfectly capable of self-soothing or whatever.”
———
He smiled at her. She was such a prickly little thing.
And she’d kick him in the teeth if he was dumb enough to tell her so.
But he understood, and respected, her distinction. He respected her desire to be independent, to not be seen as needing anyone. After all, he was the same way.
Which was why he was so bothered by his actions last night.
He’d needed her then.
Not just wanted. He’d wanted many women before.
What he’d felt—what he’d known—with Max was different.
When he’d first arrived, Hallie had told him that she’d just gone back. He’d only intended to knock, to announce himself, but then he’d caught a glimpse of her in the mirrors.
And, in that moment, staring at her lovely, full form in front of him in the belly of Hallie’s shop, he’d needed her.
So he’d taken her.
Filled himself with her.
And he’d completely forgotten all the responsible due diligence that separated those in his safe, sane, and consensual sphere from the monsters the rest of the world often feared they were. The kind he’d always secretly feared he might—deep down—be.
Which was unacceptable.
He wasn’t a good man; he had no illusions about that. In his professional life, he was ruthless and underhanded. He was a predator, tenacious and single-minded with a goal, without much concern over consequences or casualties. He was not a good man.
But even—perhaps especially—a conscienceless man like him knew there were certain rules you didn’t break. There were always lines, once crossed, you couldn’t come back from.
Looking at Max now, he didn’t think he’d done so yet.
Had he?
A quiet giggle bubbled from Max’s bowed head.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her eyes met his for a second and she shrugged. “Everything.” She gave a short snort. “I just never imagined that a man would eat me out and then apologize the next day for being inconsiderate and selfish.” She burst into full-out gaffaws, bent-over belly laughs, that took up too much of the small space. She held out her hand, trying to catch her breath. “I mean, I get it; if I hadn’t wanted it, if you’d pressured or forced it, I can certainly see your point. It’s just,” another laugh sputtered out before she said, “the thought of you worrying about it, when I came not just once but twice while you went home—presumably—with a hard-on.”
He had.
He had one now while memories of last night flooded back to him.
He stared at her, still chuckling to herself in his passenger seat, and rolled his shoulder, his tailored jacket now seeming too tight. His shirt and tie too constricting.
He eyed her.
Up.
And down.
“What are you wearing?”
Her laughter died slowly, confusion clear on her face. “What?”
He leaned forward and placed one hand on the window and the other on her headrest. “You know what I mean.” His voice was low as he reached out to touch the lapel of her jacket. “Tell me you’re wearing one of Hallie’s silky, lacy, satiny, whatever whispers of cloth underneath your oh-so-suitable suit.”
He grinned when her opalescent skin flushed with a very pretty blush in the dimly lit space. She squirmed, causing her jacket, still held in his grasp, to gape a bit. He inhaled sharply when he caught the tease of shadowy cleavage. His mind fired and he leaned in close. “You are, aren’t you?” His lips brushed her ear when he whispered, “Show me.”
She laughed. “If I do, what will you give me?”
He laughed back. Her back arched into him, her breasts brushing sweetly against his chest. “Another sheet?”
“Uh-uh.” The hint of a smile crossed her face. Stray strands of wild curls tumbled free from their twist. He wanted to touch them. He wanted to tear her hair free. “I think I can get a better deal.”
A counter?
Good girl. He leaned back to examine the gleam in her big, brown eyes.
“Okay,” he said, a grin spreading on his face, “let’s negotiate.” He lounged back in his seat—or as much as he could in his sleek, little car. “Two sheets.”
“Please.” Max rolled her eyes. “As you’ve spent all night telling me,” she pointed out, “you owe me.”
“So you want to cuddle, Max?” he mocked. “Hey, I’m game.” The idea of holding her close—all of her pressed up against all of him, maybe in her little nightie, maybe in nothing at all—oh, yeah, he was more than up for it.
She laughed again, the sound rich and low as it rumbled over his nerves. “I was thinking of something,” she said with a sigh, “more quid pro quo.”
He licked his lips, not sure if he should like the sound of that as much as he did. “Meaning?”
This time, she moved forward, coming over him with a hand on his shoulder. “Lean back, counselor.” She got to her knees on the seat. “And try not to make too much noise. I’d hate to attract building security.”
His smile widened while he levered the seat and leaned back, just as she’d asked. But, as for the noise, he made no such promises.
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