by M. Tasia
“Two seconds,” Max announced to drive the point home. Thomas Jeffrey was no longer in a position of power and never would be again.
“I’ll be seeing you again soon, Francis.” The hiss he used when pronouncing Saint’s legal first name fit the snake in him.
The bastard turned away and walked out the door with his hands clenched into tight fists, and every retreating step felt like a hammer hitting metal. It raked on every one of Max’s last nerves as he followed him out, relocking the gate and front door before returning to Saint, who hadn’t moved from the spot.
The lost look was back, and Max hurried to wrap Saint in his arms. Silently they walked back to the hub as Max watched the play of emotions work their way across Saint’s face. The slight fear was what worried Max the most. Making him truly wonder how far Saint’s father would be willing to go to get what he wanted.
The moment they entered the hub, Saint pulled away and headed straight for his bedroom, leaving Max standing alone and unsure of what to do. Should he follow Saint to make sure he was okay because Max understood sex was off the table at this point? Thankfully, Saint emerged a few minutes later dressed in track pants and a worn shirt. He also carried another set of what looked like shorts and a bottle of amber liquid with the words “The Dalmore” on the label, and what looked like deer antlers across the front.
Saint threw the shorts to Max before grabbing two glasses out of the cupboard in his makeshift kitchen. Max had been asking to fix up Saint’s private spaces, but he refused every time, saying that his own comfort was not the major concern. Well, it was major to Max and he was tempted to go ahead and beg forgiveness later, after Saint was in new digs.
“You might as well get comfortable; we have some serious drinking to do.” Saint lifted the bottle and tore away its seal before cracking the top and pouring himself a healthy glass of top-shelf whiskey. He sat down on the couch, set the bottle and second glass on the coffee table before downing his four-finger glass of liquor. The unmistakable whoosh of air as he breathed through the burn. “You know, cough, I bought this bottle for us to celebrate with when we finally started making headway in the restaurant and bar, but right now seems like a more appropriate occasion. The first time I ever threatened the not-so-great Dr. Thomas Jeffrey.”
Max did not intend to leave Saint after his run-in with his father, so he popped the button on his jeans, lowered the zipper, and stepped out. He laid them over one of the kitchen chairs and turned to put on the shorts.
“God, you’re sexy.”
Max looked down at his black boxer briefs before pulling the cargo shorts up and said, “Thanks. You’re fucking sexy yourself.” That was no line. Max found Saint sexy, strong, determined, and caring under all his gruffness.
Instead of answering Saint poured himself another drink and this time he filled Max’s glass as well. Max placed his keys and wallet on the table and then took a seat beside Saint, making sure they were close enough so that their legs touched. He knew he was an asshole but couldn’t control his need to be closer to Saint, even now.
He reached forward for the glass and the remote. They’d installed a satellite on the roof along with updated cabling throughout the building. Max turned on some show about the fishing boats of the Pacific and took a sip of his whiskey. One of them had to remain lucid and by the looks of things, Max was it. He didn’t begrudge Saint’s need to drown his demons, hell, after meeting the man who terrorized Saint’s life, Max was all for it.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly the way I saw the rest of this evening going,” Saint said. “You don’t have to stick around to watch over me. I’m good.”
“I don’t have to do anything. I want to. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I like you. I like spending time with you, and if you have no objections, I intend to do it more regularly.”
Saint looked at him closely, but Max wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Every word he spoke was the truth.
“Why would you want to? You’ve seen where my fucked-up life began and you’ve got to know by now that I’m not exactly stable. All I could possibly do is drag you down with me.” Saint drained his second glass of whiskey and poured himself a third.
“I happen to think you’re a remarkable person. After everything that’s been done to you, you still have so much compassion and need to care for others. What you’ve done for Finn… When others might have called the cops to get the homeless guy off your property, you took him in. The way you helped Emma that day at the shelter, and saved my ass from my ex. You’ve done all that and countless more that I’m not even aware of. You are a good person and I refuse to let you run me off.”
“Your choice, but don’t blame me when everything goes to shit.” Saint’s words were a bit slurred, not exactly a shock. “Then I’ll lose you as a lover, friend, and contractor. The trifecta of screw-ups. Wait, we aren’t lovers yet. So I guess that’s only a double.”
“I’m going to make you something to eat. You need food to soak up all that booze.”
I’m fine.”
“Humor me.”
Saint raised his glass as if to toast. “Have at it then. Mi casa es su casa.”
Max searched the kitchen and decided on grilled cheese sandwiches. They were filling and quick, which was exactly what he needed before Saint passed out on him. By the time he returned Saint sat staring blankly at the glass in his hands.
“Here, eat this,” Max directed as he placed the plate of sandwiches in front of Saint. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Saint leaned forward, took one of the grilled cheese sandwiches and dunked it into the ketchup before eating almost half of it in one bite. A man after Max’s heart—grilled cheese and ketchup went hand in hand, no matter what anyone else said.
“Thank you,” Saint mumbled without looking up.
Max retook his spot beside Saint. “Anytime, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out but Saint hadn’t seemed to notice. His feelings about Saint appeared to be expanding in leaps and bounds. He wasn’t entirely certain what he thought about that.
He nursed his drink as Saint finished both sandwiches before leaning back against the couch, glass in hand, head thrown back, staring at the stained ceiling. Max remained silent, allowing Saint the time to think without distraction. Though he made sure their legs were still touching, needing the connection. If there were any way to give Saint some extra strength to handle this new issue, Max would have gladly done it.
“You know, I always thought it was me when I was a child. There had to be something wrong with me that my father hated me. I’d watch other kids with their dads and you could see the pride in their eyes, not the disdain I found in Thomas Jeffrey’s.” Max reached out, took hold of Saint’s free hand, and allowed Saint to vent and get it out.
“You think I’m caring, hell, I wish I wasn’t so damn concerned with others.” Saint lifted his top to reveal his bandaged stomach. “A lot of good my efforts did Rachel. Even after I took the bullet meant for her, they still shot her. She’s still dead. Buried in a jungle, not even a body for her family to mourn.”
“You tried to save her, no matter the danger to yourself.”
Saint continued to stare up at the ceiling, but Max held on to his hand like a lifeline. “They killed her and countless others who were unfortunate enough to be at the clinic that day,” Saint explained as he took the bottle from the table and discarded his glass. “Women and children. All dead for the crime of seeking help for their children. You hear about that shit, but nothing can prepare you for it. I’d finished a surgery on a three-year-old girl with a cleft lip and palate when a group of rebels stormed the area. The girl never woke up.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long swig before continuing. “The only reason I wasn’t shot dead like the others was because I might be worth something to them. They rounded up whom they thought they could get a ransom for and marched us into the jungle. We walked for days through the dense vegetation and almost
constant rain.”
Max was disappointed when Saint pulled his hand free of his grip. However, disappointment was quickly replaced by shock when Saint turned and laid his head on Max’s lap. He clutched the bottle in his hand but he seemed to have forgotten he was holding it. Max couldn’t help but run his fingers through Saint’s soft, curly hair in an attempt to soothe him.
“Eight days. They had me for eight agonizing days. The cage I was kept in barely allowed me to move. There was no bathroom or food and water. There was pain, every day the same routine. They’d drag us from our cages before dawn, interrogate us as if we had any secrets to give, and then beat us before locking us back up. There were five of us, I think. My memory of certain things is spotty. Five were not saved when the rescue team came for us.”
Saint was lost in his memories as Max took the bottle out of his hands and set it on the floor. His mind still reeling from what Saint had been through even though he could tell Saint was skipping over the most brutal parts.
“I think the waiting was the worst. After they put bullets through both of my hands to ensure I never performed surgery on anyone again, I sort of blanked out. Nothing seemed real. Of course, some part of me realized I was dying. The blood seeping from the hole in my stomach was confirmation enough. But the pain was on a level I could have never imagined.”
Saint’s voice seemed distant and tired. “The screams of the others blurred into background noise. How could I have dismissed their suffering so easily?”
“Because you were suffering yourself. There was nothing you could have done. It’s not your fault.” Max would repeat those words as often as possible until Saint believed them.
“But it is, don’t you see? I should have been able to protect them like my brother.”
It broke Max’s heart to hear the despair in Saint’s voice. This decent man blamed himself for the death of his colleagues even after sustaining life-threatening injuries. Saint’s sense of responsibility had been warped by years of his father’s abuse.
Saint’s eyes were drooping and Max had to make sure he was taken care of before he fell asleep on the couch. “Come on, babe, let’s get you to bed.”
“You staying?” Saint asked.
“Of course. There’s no other place I would want to be.” It was true. If given a choice Max would gladly stay and take care of Saint.
Max helped Saint sit up and then stand. His beautiful blue eyes were glassy, a sign of how drunk he was. Max grabbed two bottles of water and the over-the-counter pain reliever as they passed the kitchen. He was going to do everything in his power to reduce Saint’s impending hangover.
Max followed Saint into his bedroom and to his side of the bed, same as they had done back at the farm. “Take these and drink the entire bottle,” he instructed while holding out two pain relievers and a bottle of water.
Saint did as he was told, never once breaking eye contact with Max. Once the water was finished Max took the bottle and placed it on the side table along with the second bottle of water in case Saint needed one in the middle of the night.
Saint sat down on the side of the bed and pulled off his shirt, exposing all those glorious muscles to Max’s appreciative eyes. Pushing his libido aside, Max helped Saint remove his track pants, leaving him in a pair of briefs that did nothing to hide the impressive package Saint was sporting. Okay, Max would have to be dead not to notice the girth of the man’s prodigious cock, but it didn’t mean he had to act on it.
He was probably going to hell for this.
Max lifted Saint’s legs onto the bed and covered him with the comforter before walking over to the other side and removing his own shirt and shorts. He climbed into bed and reached for Saint, who seemed to melt right into Max’s arms. Saint laid his head on Max’s chest and the rightness of it struck him.
“I’ve got you, babe. You’re safe and I promise to keep you that way.”
“No one can promise that,” Saint said before his body went limp and he began to snore.
Max pulled Saint even closer, making sure to cover him in the comforter so that he didn’t get cold. The memory of his grandma’s words floated through his mind as he stared at the amazing man in his arms. “There is only one we are meant to love, and when you find him you will know. The trick is to never let him go.”
He intended to follow that advice to the letter.
Chapter Ten
The silky glide of a warm wet tongue travelled over Max’s abdomen and up his chest to circle his right nipple before it was sucked into a hot mouth. The moan that tore from him sounded so real in his dream. Now if only Saint would appear this would be heaven. His hard nipple had become so sensitized from the attention it was receiving that a slight brush from a stubbly jaw had Max arching his back to get closer to the pleasure/pain the sensation caused.
Hands roamed over his overheated body, exploring every inch of him, and slowly the cloud of sleep began to lift. He heard pigeons outside the window and the squeak of the mattress springs beneath him. Max fully expected the dream to vanish with his sleep, but it became intensely more real.
Max opened his eyes to a sun-filled bedroom with the man he’d wished for in his dream hovering over top of him. Saint smiled wide before taking Max’s mouth in a fiery kiss that Max soon commanded. The need he felt last night came slamming back into his body from where it had been simmering overnight. Ever careful of Saint’s injuries, Max maneuvered them until he was on top looking down at the most gorgeous man he’d ever known. Inside and out.
Before he got too carried away, he had to make sure Saint was all right. “How do you feel, babe?” Max asked as he ran his fingers along Saint’s strong jaw. Saint turned his head and sucked one of Max’s fingers into his mouth. Every pull he felt all the way to his balls, making him flex his hips against Saint’s leg. That’s when he noticed that he didn’t have his underwear on any longer. “Where are my boxers?”
Saint released his finger with a final nibble before saying, “With mine.”
Max’s hand shot down Saint’s body without actually thinking about it and wrapped around that beautiful cock he’d glimpsed last night. “Fuck.”
Saint groaned as Max pumped his hard cock before palming his balls and rolling them between his fingers. The handsome devil was perfect. From his beautiful body, to his escalating sounds of pleasure filling the bedroom. Max wanted more, he craved Saint at an unhealthy level, but he didn’t care. When something was right, you simply felt it.
“Babe.” Max had to make sure they were on the same page. “We need to talk first.”
The pout Saint produced was adorable for such a big guy. “We can talk later. Much, much later. We have all Sunday.”
Max cupped the side of Saint’s face and couldn’t help but smile down at him. “Yes, we do have all day, but you were unsure last night. Not wanting to…I think you said have a ‘trifecta of screw-ups.’ I don’t ever want you to regret anything we do.”
Saint caressed the side of Max’s neck, and he hardly noticed the bandages as fire raced through him from wherever Saint touched. “I was worried you’d be the one to regret it when you leave.”
“See, that’s the thing. I’m not going anywhere. That brings up something you need to know. I don’t do casual. I don’t sleep around. When I want someone, it’s long term, and I have never wanted someone more than you. That means if we take this to the next level I won’t be walking away. Can you handle that?” Max wanted to be honest and upfront about where he wanted this new part of their relationship to go.
Saint was quiet for a moment, but he never looked away or stopped rubbing his thumb along Max’s throat. He couldn’t help but lean into Saint’s touch. It felt right. Natural.
“No matter how messed up everything might become or what my father might do, you won’t leave?”
“No. Not unless you send me away. Even then I’d argue.” Max smiled and rubbed the tip of his nose along Saint’s. “I realize it’s crazy to talk like this after only knowing
each other for a short time, but I can’t help the way I feel. Tell me now if you’re unsure and we go back to friends and contractor/client. No harm no foul.”
“We’ll see how long you can put up with me.”
Of all the things Max expected Saint to say, that wasn’t even on his radar. His heart ached at the uncertainty in Saint’s voice. “You’re stuck with me.” Max had been patient long enough as he cupped the back of Saint’s head and brought their lips together. He licked and sucked on Saint’s plump bottom lip, making his soon-to-be lover squirm under the onslaught. This was what Max wanted, Saint lost in passion, underneath him.
So much better than any dream ever could be.
***
Saint had tried not to drag Max into his fucked-up world, it could only end in ruin, but damn he couldn’t fight his need to have him. Every touch brought desire roaring to life until his entire body vibrated with it. Those hooded green eyes seemed to see straight through each and every barrier Saint had built over the years, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Only the fact that he trusted Max not to judge him or use what he found against him kept Saint from freaking out.
He’d never felt safe enough to allow anyone a glimpse of the real Saint. It was as exhilarating as it was frightening.
“So fucking beautiful,” Max growled before pulling Saint’s hair back to expose his throat and biting down on the soft flesh, sucking up what was sure to be a dark mark. Saint had never allowed anyone to do that before. He could never have visible love bites. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, but it didn’t worry him enough to stop the ravenous male above him.
“Men are handsome. Women are beautiful,” Saint moaned, needing the clarification. He was a man. His father may have shackled Saint, but not now. He was free to show his own power. He wasn’t being emasculated any longer. Saint had control of his destiny. He would pilot his own ship.
As if Max could read his mind, he responded with the words Saint desperately needed to hear. “You’re all man, babe. From the top of your curly blond head to the tips of those seriously long toes.” Saint laughed as Max surely intended before he continued. “But you can still be beautiful to me.”