Max’s crotch tightened at the same time the breath left his lungs. Holy fuck. She blinked all innocent and shit, waiting for an answer. “Don’t tease,” he grumbled with a small smirk. “It’s not nice.”
She laughed and pulled a smaller bag from the depths of the larger. “Who’s teasing?” she asked as she walked into the bathroom.
Max rubbed his face. Fucking woman was gonna kill him. He followed her to the bathroom and leaned against the jamb. He watched her place all manner of lotions and potions onto the shelves and around the sink. It was no wonder her skin was as soft and unblemished as it was. Plus it always smelled incredible. His eyes lingered on the back of her thighs and over her ass. He really liked her ass. He wondered whether it was as soft as the rest of her.
“You okay?”
Max blinked, her voice coaxing him from his visual appraisal. She eyed him provocatively in the mirror.
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice rough.
“You know,” she said, turning slowly and leaning against the sink, “I like it when you look at me like that.”
Max swallowed. “Like what?”
“Like that.” She nodded toward him. “Like you want me.”
He took a step forward, propelled by her large eyes and the rise and fall of her chest. The bathroom filled quickly with heavy anticipation. “I do want you,” he answered because why the fuck lie about it? He was aching to touch her, to feel her nipples against his tongue again.
“Good,” she replied, lifting her chin to look at him better. “I want you, too.”
Max’s cock hardened further. He reached out a finger and let the back of it trace the apple of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed at the same time her tongue wet her lips. She had a great mouth. Max had imagined many times what it would look like around him, sucking and kissing where he wanted her most.
“This is all on your terms,” he whispered. “You’re in control. You just say the word and I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to.” His finger moved to her jaw, down her neck, and between her tits. “I want to make you feel good.”
“You do,” she sighed, reaching for his belt loops and pulling him closer. She looked up. “I want to do the same.”
He took her wrist gently and pushed her hand against his cock, grunting softly at the pressure. “I’ve told you. It’s yours to do what you will.” His breath made the hair at her temple move.
For one astonishing moment, Max could have sworn her fingers twitched against him, a brief second where he truly thought she was going to take control and touch him properly, but the desire in her pupils steadily fizzled and died, leaving nothing but uncertainty. Trying hard not to take the rejection too personally, Max cleared his throat, released her hand, and stepped back, giving her space.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, staring at the tiled floor beneath their feet.
“Hey,” he said sharply. “No. Don’t do that. You have nothing to apologize for. Got it?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and sighed.
“Grace?” Max pressed. He didn’t like that she felt she had to please him. He wasn’t that guy. Sure, he’d felt a twinge of frustration when she’d pulled her hand away, but that was just his cock talking. “No pressure, okay? Seriously.” He lifted her chin with his index finger, smiling gently when she didn’t flinch. She never flinched around him anymore. “Look, forget about it. And try again when you feel ready.”
She nodded, her gaze watery. “Okay.”
Max rubbed the tops of her arms. “So how about we go for a swim with these nutjobs, huh?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Um, you go. I’ll just hang here for a while.”
Max bit the inside of his mouth, hating the despondency that cloaked her. He hadn’t seen it for weeks and its return was not welcome. “No way, lady; we’re here to have fun, not mope. So sort your shit out.” He grabbed her forearm and pulled her from the bathroom back into the bedroom. He turned back to her expectantly.
A smile teased at the edges of her lips. “Okay, fine, but I’m not in the mood for swimming. And my new swimsuit doesn’t quite cover . . .” She motioned to her side, where Max knew her skin was scarred. His chest squeezed.
“Grace, you know those assholes won’t give a shit about that, right?”
“I know,” she replied, quickly reaching to play with her hair.
“I don’t give a shit about it, either,” he added gently, because, if anything, the scars added “fortitude” to the ever-growing list of her endearing traits.
She smiled. “I know, I know. I just . . . Maybe tomorrow. What else can we do?”
Max thought for a moment before an idea pulled his mouth into a wide grin. “You brought your camera?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s go.”
For almost two hours, Max showed Grace the nearby treks around the house, leading her through brush, pointing out the breathtaking views of the lake and the surrounding mountains. Grace followed him without question, her trust in him implicit, snapping pictures of the trees, flowers, the exquisite light that filtered through the tree canopy, and a few of Max when he wasn’t looking, too involved in describing his adventures in the forests as a kid.
Ruby had been right—Max was a different person at the cabin. He was still the beautiful, gentle man she’d grown to know, but here Grace saw the tension in his shoulders evaporate, while the smile on his face was constantly in place. He was younger, freer, less closed off, and more willing to open up. His stories about his father and their fishing trips were too cute and at times hilarious and had Grace enraptured, especially when, later that evening, seated around a large fire, eating steak and burgers, Vince joined in. Max laughed more than Grace had ever heard, loud and bellied, as memories and anecdotes jumped around the group like a game of hot potato. Grace sat with her glass of wine, listening to the banter, feeling for the first time in years like she was truly at peace. And it was, in no small part, thanks to the man sitting at her side.
“Hey, Max, do you remember the night we snuck into the garage freezer and stole that ice cream we weren’t allowed and your dad was convinced there was a bear loose?” Ruby laughed around the rim of her wineglass.
Max snorted and nodded. “Oh my God. We were terrified he was going to find out that we’d stolen it.”
Vince shook his head. “You kids were a damned nightmare.”
The two “nightmares” fist-bumped. “Solid work, my man.” Ruby grinned.
“Word.” Max nodded solemnly.
“Why weren’t you allowed the ice cream?” Grace asked.
The roars of laughter from Vince, Fern, and Ruby and the blush creeping up Max’s cheeks were too intriguing to let go. Grace nudged his shoulder. “What did you do?”
Buck spluttered over his burger. “Man, I heard about this! Was this the naked police incident?”
Whoops of hilarity filled the warm summer evening and drifted along the edge of the water like leaves on a breeze.
“Naked police?” Caleb asked incredulously from his seat next to Vince.
“Damn, boy, I’ll never be able to delete those images for as long as I live!” Ruby commented.
Max chuckled into his forearm. “Yeah, right, like you’d want to.” He winked and sipped from his bottle of Dr Pepper.
“So, come on,” Buck’s blonde friend, Carla, said impatiently. “What happened?”
She was pretty, Grace supposed, in a fake-hair-and-boobs, bright-white-teeth kind of way, but the manner in which she’d been eyeing Max all night certainly wasn’t.
Max sighed in amusement. “Ruby dared me to flash the family who were staying across the lake.” Ruby began to protest over the loud oohs and aahs. “You did,” he continued with a pointed finger. “Don’t deny it. It was all your fault.”
Grace laughed. “And did you?”
“Of course I fucking did. I’d never concede a dare. I couldn’t let her win!”
“The only problem was,” Ruby
sniggered, “as he stood on the float in the middle of the lake and dropped his shorts to greet the poor folks, the local mountain police were doing their morning rounds and saw him!”
Max dropped his head back. “Shit, I was terrified.”
“They hauled his ass back to the cabin,” Vince added. “He’s there standing on the damned porch with only a police hat covering his unmentionables!”
The group erupted again.
“Where were your shorts?” Grace asked, giggling.
“I had them!” Ruby cried. “He dropped ’em, and I grabbed ’em and swam back to the shore.”
“So I was sent to bed after a thorough roastin’ from my dad and no supper and no ice cream.” Max shrugged, smiling widely, his dark eyes dancing in the firelight.
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Your first of many brushes with the law, huh?” Caleb commented. His tone wasn’t condescending but there was an edge to it Grace couldn’t place.
The deputy had been mostly quiet since their arrival and had only smiled briefly in Grace’s direction after handing her a plate for her steak. He’d been close to the other of Buck’s female friends for most of the day, while also helping Vince with the grill. Truthfully, Grace was relieved. He was nice enough, but his attention made her nervous. Not because she was scared of him. Far from it. He’d always been supernice and polite to her, offering to walk her home from the bar when she was on late shifts if Holly was out or Max wasn’t around, which was rare. It was just that Max seemingly had a huge bee in his bonnet about the cop, and she didn’t want to be responsible for a falling-out between the two men. Knowing herself, she’d be sure to say something wrong.
Max smirked at Caleb, but his stare across the licking flames of the bonfire was anything but pleasant. Grace shifted at his side, wanting to touch him, but not knowing how. “What’s it to ya?”
Caleb shrugged and sipped his beer. “Just askin’.”
Max opened his mouth to say something that Grace didn’t doubt would be filled with expletives, but was interrupted by the sound of Journey blasting from the stereo Buck had brought. Buck leaped onto his seat and began his usual air guitar routine, along with Josh, who joined him and sang as loudly as he could about small-town girls and midnight trains. Before long everyone was singing, even Max, who laughed and encouraged Buck to jump like a true rock star from his seat.
They cheered and egged the boys on as they danced and goofed around. It was a shame that Grace had left her camera in her room. These were memories she wanted to document, to keep close to her heart, to look at whenever she was feeling bruised by life. She closed her eyes and allowed the sounds and smells of the moment to seep deeply into her, focusing on the gloriously loud laugh booming from Max’s chest. Similar to hearing her favorite song, the sound of it sent rippling goose bumps all over her body like a wave around a baseball stadium.
Max moved close to Grace’s ear when the song ended amid cheers and applause for Buck’s performance and AC/DC’s “Back in Black” began. “You okay?”
She smiled at Max’s gentle nod as the legendary guitar riff echoed up the mountain. “Absolutely.”
Grace was awoken by the sun streaming through a gap in the drapes and loud humming creeping from under the bathroom door. Grace rubbed her eyes and stretched. Her elbow bumped into the line of pillows that Max had been adamant about placing down the center of the bed. He stated their presence was to help make her feel safer, but something told Grace that Max needed those pillows between them, too—just for different reasons. Reasons that made her heart beat faster.
As she sat up and fastened her hair atop her head, the bathroom door opened and Max wandered out followed by a delicious-smelling cloud of steam. It was all deep spice and unlike any scent Grace had smelled before.
“Hey,” he said with a smile, fastening the tie on his blue board shorts and pulling the hem of his white wifebeater back down, hiding the sliver of exposed sun-bronzed skin under his belly button. “You’re awake.”
He moved around the room quickly. The tattoo on his shoulder was more visible than Grace had seen since the day they’d touched in his room. Her heart squeezed at the memory. The tat was black, thick black that looked almost like flames, maybe feathers?
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, pulling on his watch and slipping on a pair of black flip-flops before running his hands through his damp hair. Grace kind of loved that he never seemed to use a brush, especially when his hair stuck up that way.
“Yeah,” she replied, standing up and neatening the covers. “Did you?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I sleep good anywhere there’s a horizontal surface, ya know?”
Grace smiled, shuddering under the way his eyes traveled lazily down her cami top and sleep shorts. “Can I use the shower?” she asked, reaching for the towel folded on top of her bag.
“Yeah, of course. Buck, Josh, and I are gonna head down to the lake and set up the float and shit, maybe get the boat out. It’d be cool to spend the day on the water. It’s hot. Come down and join us when you’re ready. Uncle Vince is on breakfast duty.”
She nodded, holding the towel close. “We’re swimming today?”
Max flashed her a look that slid under her skin and made her warm. “We sure are. And you”—he took a large step toward her—“need to get that swimsuit on and show off that gorgeous body of yours.” His top teeth pressed into his bottom lip. “It’d be a damned travesty if you didn’t.”
“Oh, well, I—” she flustered, her cheeks heating. “I— Yeah, I mean, okay, I might.”
Max plucked his Ray-Ban shades from off the top of the dresser and slid them on. “That’s my girl.”
Without another word, he left the room, closing the door gently behind him. The three words he’d spoken wrapped around Grace like a warm hug and sent her heart into a very confusing frenzy.
“Hey, Grace!” Ruby waved maniacally from where she stood at the water’s edge. “Come over here, honey!”
Max was right: It was scorching hot. Grace’s skin tingled under the sun’s rays as she made her way to where the women of the house had set up their own little sun-worshipping oasis. Towels, loungers, beach umbrellas, and coolers were all in attendance, while the shouts and splashes Grace could hear alerted her to the fact that all the boys were in the lake doing . . . something.
“They’re arguin’ about floats and damn float fasteners,” Ruby said with an eye roll. “We may never see them again.” The red of Ruby’s two-piece made her gray eyes pop, with not a muffin top in sight.
Grace glanced down at herself, suddenly conscious of the lush bodies around her. The swimsuit she was wearing was a yellow one-piece, a color that had always suited her. Yellow brought out the dark, warm tones of her skin, her momma had said. She’d bought her new swimsuit in haste two days before the trip to the cabin and hadn’t tried it on until it was too late to take it back.
The legs were cut high, showing a couple of the scars on her hip, while the back was low, showing glimpses of the scars on her side. That’s why she’d thrown on a thin white T-shirt she’d found crumpled on top of Max’s bag. She hoped he didn’t mind her borrowing his clothes, but the thought of walking around just in her suit dried her throat.
The T-shirt slipped down one shoulder and she’d tied it in a loose knot at her hip, leaving a small sliver of the lower half of her swimsuit showing. She’d never worn so little around other people, and outside to boot. Months ago, she’d never have dreamed of being so daring. She remembered wearing a bikini in her backyard one burning summer day. Rick had come home high and pissed and had beaten her with his shoe when he found her. He’d called her a whore because who knows who could have seen her flashing her slutty ass all over the place.
Their yard was private. No one had seen. But Rick’s paranoia was a devastating thing.
“Maybe I should change?” she murmured suddenly, reaching for the shades on her head. Ruby’s hand on hers wa
s as surprising as it was a relief.
“No. Don’t. You look incredible.”
“You sure do,” Carla added. “Girl, if I had legs like yours, I’d wear that outfit all the time.”
Okay, so maybe this chick wasn’t too bad, even if she did have a full face of makeup in one-hundred-degree heat. As long as she kept her eyes off Max, Grace would get along with her juuuuust fine. Her sudden possessiveness over Max was neither surprising nor worrying. It was in her nature. She’d always been that way with family, friends, boyfriends . . .
Grace looked out over the water at the sound of Vince’s voice in the middle of the lake. She immediately spotted Max, shades still in place, shirtless and wet from the water, grinning at Buck as he tried to get the float to stay in place. Good God the man was dangerous. He truly was a vision. Unshaven, board shorts low, his lean runner’s body kissed by the sun. Grace wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him all over. She imagined he’d taste divine, if the smells he left in the shower were anything to go by.
“Beer?” Ruby asked, holding a bottle of Heineken up to Grace’s nose.
Grace glanced at her watch. It was eleven thirty. “Sure. Why not? It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”
“That’s what we like,” Max’s aunt Fern commented as she approached wearing a bikini top and sarong, carrying what looked like a tray full of homemade Popsicles and Jell-O shots. There was no way there wasn’t any alcohol in those bad boys. Things were going to get messy, and fast.
“That float looks like a damned house,” Grace observed, sipping her beer and placing her bag on one of the loungers. The float was huge and could hold at least ten people. It was like a floating deck, complete with steps into the water.
“It’s great, right?” Aunt Fern replied. “Vince and I bought that a few years ago. It’s the envy of the lake, you know?”
Ruby snorted and shook her head at the same time an almighty splash echoed around the water. Five men, arms flying in the front crawl, shot toward the shore. Ruby screamed and yelled for her husband while Carla, her blonde hair shining in the sun, called out Buck’s name. Carla’s friend—Anna? Ada?—smiled.
An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2) Page 18