An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)

by Sophie Jackson

  She said her good-byes, called in at the coffee shop, buying Max’s regular order as well as her own, and set off toward the boardinghouse. Excitement swelled in her stomach as she climbed the stairs and wandered down the hallway to his door. She knocked twice, hearing him call out before his heavy footsteps approached. She smiled when the lock slid back and it grew as the door opened and revealed him. He was bare-chested, in a pair of worn jeans with nothing on his feet. His hair was chaotic and he hadn’t shaved in at least a few days. He was beautiful.

  “Hey!” Grace tried her best to curtail her happiness at seeing him, but her high-pitched voice gave her away. “Welcome back.” She lifted her offerings to him and it was then that she noticed his expression.

  His eyes were so dark they looked flat black. The warm Hershey’s Kiss she loved so much was but a faint memory against the intense obsidian glare that greeted her. A muscle in his jaw ticked, while his lips pressed into a flat line that she’d only seen once before: the night he’d gotten drunk at Whiskey’s.

  She dropped her hands slowly, her smile with it. “You okay?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Fine.”

  The word was curt, cold, and made Grace flinch. Her stare flittered around his face, trying to see past his anger. And he was angry; it surged off him. “You don’t seem okay.”

  He huffed a laugh that reeked of sarcasm and rubbed a hand across his chin. His other gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles whitened. “What do you want?”

  Grace’s breath caught. He’d never spoken to her that way before. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what do you want? Why are you here?” His nostrils flared and his stare flashed heatedly.

  Grace was mystified. “I’m here because . . . I wanted to see you and . . . give you these. I’d have come sooner but I didn’t know you were back.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Annoyance and confusion pushed her words out. “What’s wrong with you? What happened?”

  Max sighed heavily and glared at a point over her head. “Nothin’. Look, I’ve got shit to do. I’ll see you around, okay?”

  “Max, wait.” Her plea was met with the sound of the door slamming shut. She knocked again, her knuckles smarting with the force, and called his name twice, but there was no reply. “What the hell?” She remained standing in the hallway, lost and perplexed for what felt like hours before she left his coffee and muffin at the door and made her way back home, where she clambered into bed and tried her damnedest not to cry.

  Grace rolled over in bed as lightning filled the room. The rain was still falling heavily, the sound like pebbles smacking the window, while the sky continued to complain and snarl every few minutes, as though it were as pissed-off as she was. It was warm again; that horrid, sticky warm that makes fabric stick to your skin like Velcro, and Grace suspected the worst of it was yet to come. She’d been awake for a while, tossing and turning with every bump of the clouds, with Max’s irate face flashing behind her eyelids.

  She had no idea why he’d behaved so dismissively, said such hurtful things, or why he’d looked at her with such disdain, when all she could think about was launching herself into his arms and begging for him to never let her go. Whatever it was, she was going to get to the bottom of it if it killed her.

  She’d texted him twice asking him to talk to her, but he’d yet to reply. The gray dots stayed maddeningly invisible, despite her knowing that he had read each one she’d sent. He was purposefully ignoring her and it cut her to the quick. She’d put so much trust into what they had between them so quickly that to have it snatched away with no reason at all left Grace breathless. Never would she have expected him to treat her that way after what he’d been through, after knowing what she’d been through. It was cruel and made Grace feel decidedly ill.

  “Idiot,” she whispered to the empty room. The sky grumbled in agreement.

  Lifting her head from her pillow, Grace looked toward her bedroom door, cocking her head. She was almost certain she’d heard a noise, or a knock of some kind, maybe the jangle of a key. Pausing from a brief moment, she reached out and flicked on her bedside light, almost crippled in relief when it turned on, shooing the darkness away.

  A floorboard creaked.

  “Oh God.” Paralyzed, Grace widened her eyes as the door handle on her bedroom door turned. She knew she kept a baseball bat under the bed—there was even a gun in the safe that Kai had given her—but she couldn’t move.

  “Don’t,” she managed, her voice surprisingly firm. “I have a gun. I have a gu—”

  “It’s me.” Grace’s heart nearly collapsed in her chest, as the door opened and Max appeared, sopping wet, her key hider in his open palm. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Grace yelled, kneeling up quickly and pelting him with one, two, three of her scatter cushions, launching them across the room, hitting him square in the face with the first. “You scared me to death! What the hell were you thinking?”

  He held his arms up to block any more potential missiles. “I was thinking I needed to talk to you.”

  “At two a.m.?”

  “Yeah, at fucking two a.m. I couldn’t sleep.” His tone was sharp, the remnants of whatever had him so out of shape still clutching every word. He stood up straight, when the last cushion hit the floor, staring hard at her. Ordinarily, Grace would have shrunk back at his attempts at intimidation, but the adrenaline had kicked in, and she wasn’t backing down.

  She looked him up and down, noticing that the running shoes and his sweatpants up to the knee were drenched and caked in mud.

  “You ran here?” she exclaimed, glancing toward the window.

  “Yeah, so?” he retorted defensively. “I think better when I run.”

  Yeah, Grace knew that. He’d told her so before. “So.” She gestured toward him with a wave of her hand. “Are you here to tell me what the hell is wrong with you and why you acted like such an ass today?”

  Max inhaled through his nose, his large shoulders lifting. Grace noticed he did this when he was trying to rein in his temper. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered toward his shoes.

  “I am?” Grace countered loudly. “You’re the one who slammed the door in my face.”

  Max’s head snapped up, surprise flickering over his features before he quickly schooled them. “Look, I came here to say what I needed to say and then I’m out of here, all right?”

  Grace crossed her arms over her chest, still kneeling in the center of her bed. “Fine.”

  He pointed toward the floor between them, rainwater falling to the carpet. “I know I’m an asshole, okay, and I know us sleeping together was never going to be straightforward. I get that. But, whatever. I decided I’d be exclusive to you because that’s what you deserved.” His voice dropped in volume. “I know I never asked for you to do the same because, one, I didn’t expect you’d be flashing your shit to anyone else and two, it ain’t got nothing to do with me.” His rising anger caused his Brooklyn twang to grow stronger. “But I didn’t expect you to treat me like a fucking fool. I ain’t one and I don’t deserve that.”

  “Max.” Grace breathed deeply in an effort to calm herself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  He stepped back, looking toward his feet. “I saw you, Grace.” He lifted his head and for the first time, Grace detected hurt. “I saw you with him.” He licked his lips and glanced toward the ceiling, pressing his lips together. “I saw you laughing . . . he touched you and you were both in here— Look, whatever, it’s fine.” He ran his hands through his wet hair and mumbled something toward the wall. “I would have rather you just told me before fucking around with that prick.”

  Grace regarded him carefully as all the pieces started to fall into place. There was only one person she knew who got Max as riled as this, one person he referred to with such aggression.

  “You saw me with Caleb.”


  He coughed a noise that was no doubt a curse, despite the wounded glint she caught in his gaze. “Bingo.”

  Grace unfolded her arms, her body heavy with fatigue and disappointment. “You saw me with Caleb,” she repeated. “And you think what? That I slept with him?” He didn’t answer except to cock an eyebrow, the challenge clear. Her heart squeezed. She dropped her chin to her chest and tried to gather herself. “You know what, Max? You’re right.” She looked back at him. “You are an asshole.”

  Max’s head moved back as though he’d been slapped. “Say what, now?”

  Grace shook her head and drew back the sheet so she could climb under. “Please lock the door when you leave.”

  “Are you kidding me?” His voice lifted at the end, causing Grace to turn.

  “No. I’m not,” she replied, calm and monotone.

  Max scowled with his arms out wide. “And that’s it. No denial, no explanation, nothing?”

  Grace shook her head slowly. The only denial she could see was his. “You saw what you wanted to see, Max, nothing more. I could spend the next hour explaining what was actually happening, and why, but it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Why wouldn’t it matter?” he snapped.

  Grace’s heart thumped at the fire in his eyes. He was too stubborn to realize what he was feeling, too blind to see what was right in front of him, but it wasn’t the time to try to show him. As much as it pained Grace, she knew he’d have to come to the realization on his own. “Would it matter to you, Max?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?” She spoke so softly and he was silent for so long, Grace wondered whether he’d heard her.

  The moment was broken when thunder cracked above them, making the lights dim. Rain pummeled the roof, getting harder and more aggressive as the seconds passed. Max stared at Grace, still without voice, though, she noted, the warm brown tones of his eyes had started to creep back and the softness that she loved so much about his face smoothed the angry lines that had creased it.

  Relieved, she nodded toward him. “Get undressed and get in here.”

  He blinked, his eyebrows meeting above his nose. “What?”

  “You’re soaked and it’s like the apocalypse out there. You’re not driving and you sure as hell aren’t walking, so get in here until it passes.” She didn’t wait for him to reply and continued getting under the thin sheet, her back to him. He didn’t move. Grace squeezed her eyes shut. “Max. Please.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “I know.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t want you to go.”

  There was another stretch of quiet before the unmistakable rustle of clothes being removed could be heard. He padded around her room, placing his clothes on the radiator and his wallet and keys on the nightstand next to her, and eventually crawled into bed.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her shoulders dropping with the sensation of having him so close, as though his mere presence helped her breathe easier.

  “Just until it passes,” he replied, his voice gruff, but quiet.

  She reached out to turn off the lamp. “Okay.”

  It was before dawn when Grace woke again. It was still dark. The thunder had eased but still the rain came. Grace nuzzled the pillow and sighed. While they slept, Max had moved closer, his body molding around hers, his hand tentative on her hip. He’d done this before when they’d fallen asleep together despite claiming that he wasn’t one for hugs or spooning. He was full of it, though; the man was made for snuggling.

  In spite of their heated words, Grace smiled when his breath washed against her neck. He felt so good behind her that she was unable to resist shifting back in an effort to feel more of him. It had been too long since she’d felt so safe. Surely, he was feeling what she was, right? The expanding that occurred in her chest every time she saw him, the butterflies when he smiled, the insane lust when they came together. It had to be real.

  “Quit moving,” he grumbled sleepily, his nose pressing into the skin behind her ear.

  It was on her next breath to ask why, but the way his hips flexed against her ass told her loud and clear why his words sounded tight. Wow. The way he was so blatant about how his body reacted to hers never failed to make Grace warm all over. Life would be so much simpler if he could be so open with his heart.

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not,” he retorted, calling her out at the same time she pushed against him again. He huffed a breath. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

  Grace was struck with how perfectly those words fit their relationship. Their argument had done nothing but underline just how fragile they still both were, while the overwhelming feeling that, inevitably, they were headed for a serious conversation filled Grace with resounding fear. She didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t.

  “Max.” His name slipped between her lips before she could stop it and she placed her hand on the back of his as it traveled up her waist and back down to the top of her thigh.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

  She swallowed back the many things she wanted from him, for him, for them, and said simply, “You.”

  His fingers dipped teasingly to her inner thigh at the same time he pushed his erection against her ass. “Just me?”

  She turned her head sharply at the unspoken insinuation of his question. Meeting his tired yet hopeful eyes, however, made the angry response curl back heavily into her chest. She was so exhausted hiding what she felt for him, what she wanted with him. She could only be honest and hope that, in time, he would return the favor. “It’s always been just you. Nothing happened with Caleb, Max. He got my lights working again and left. I swear to you.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, as though her words were exactly what he needed to hear, and slipped his hand swiftly between her legs and under the elastic of her sleep shorts. Grace arched when his fingers found her. They played her perfectly, firm but teasing, fast then slow, dipping and rubbing her in ways that had her calling out nonsense, clutching his forearm just to feel the muscles as they worked her.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

  He slipped two fingers into her, curling them to stroke her in places that made her call out his name.

  “Who?” he growled in her ear, his hips undulating against her, while his hand began to move faster, his fingers fucking her so perfectly.

  “You, Max,” she groaned. “Don’t stop.”

  “Wallet,” he grunted into her shoulder.

  Holding back her moans, and with his fingers continuing to pull pleasure from her very bones, Grace reached over for his wallet and quickly pulled out the two condoms she knew would be there. Throwing the wallet back on the nightstand, she held one of the condoms out to him. He opened his mouth and took it between his teeth.

  “Come,” he grit out around it. “I know you’re close.”

  He wasn’t wrong. He knew her body as well as she did. She groaned and nodded, relaxing herself from head to toe, allowing him to bring her to a climax that was sharp, loud, and altogether incredible. He shushed and soothed her, his palm stroking her between her legs until she was shivering in his arms.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got you,” he told her, pulling back slightly to remove his underwear.

  Grace rid herself of her cami and shorts and watched over her shoulder, entranced, as he rolled on the condom. He was just so damned gorgeous to look at. He glanced up at her, waiting, as he always did for her to tell him that she was fine for him to start. She smiled gently, gaining one in reply. He lifted her thigh and ducked his head, kissing her shoulder blade softly as he pushed into her from behind.

  That feeling. That feeling right there where they joined was something Grace could never explain. He filled her, yes, but it was more than that. It was as if, when he pushed his body into hers, her soul exhaled in relief, as though it had finally found what it had been searching for for so long.

  He drew back his hips and
pushed back, pushing a moan from Grace’s throat. He clutched her to him, his hands on her breasts, his mouth right by her ear. “He wants this,” he said, anger teasing the words. “He wants you just like this.”

  Knowing “he” was Caleb, Grace moved her hand to the back of Max’s head, over her shoulder, and gripped his hair. “He can’t have me like this,” she told him. “He’s never had me like this. He’ll never have me like this.”

  He mumbled her name into her neck. “Why? Tell me why, Gracie.”

  She turned to look at him, struggling with the angle. “Because only you have me like this.”

  The sound that came from Max’s throat was unconcealed possessiveness that lifted the very hairs on Grace’s arms. He thrust firmly, growling and holding her so hard his fingers pinched.

  “Wait,” she gasped. “Max, wait.”

  He slowed, his hips still rolling, but his voice panicked. “Was I too rough?”

  “No.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to see you.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He pulled away and lay on his back waiting for her to ride him.

  “No,” she said, pushing her unease away as her gaze prowled down his magnificent body. “I want you on top this time.”

  There was a flash of surprise with a hint of uncertainty across Max’s face before he nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely.” And she was. She trusted the man climbing over her and settling between her legs more than any other man she’d ever been with, and whether he’d admit it or not, she knew that he cared for her enough to never harm her. Max’s placed his hands at either side of her shoulders, still careful not to put any weight on her.

  “Put me in you.” His request, said, as always, in that unintentionally erotic way of his, turned Grace’s bones to mush.

  She put her hand around his cock and guided him. He slipped in perfectly as he always did, only this time she could wrap her legs around his waist. In doing so, she brought his weight onto her. Her breath faltered, panic teasing at the edges of her psyche, making Max pause. “I’m okay,” she urged. “Honestly.”