Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1)

by Nicole Douglas

  I was remorseful about the things I said to him. I wish I could take them back, rewind time back seventy-two hours and be more supportive. That couldn’t have been easy for him to deal with.

  It was obvious there were underlying issues with his dad that he hadn’t talked to me about. When the hurt of feeling lied to and held at a distance wore off I just worried about Max.

  That was why I came here today.

  I raise my hand to knock one last time and the door opens. I gasp in shock at the sight of him. Last time I saw Max he was unscathed, his skin perfectly clear and just the right shade of tan.

  Now his face is so badly beaten I struggle to find a spot of skin on his face that isn’t bruised. Black, purple and light green marbled on his cheeks, darkening closer to his eyes on each side.

  “Max.” I gasp.

  “Go home Lacey.”

  He goes to shut the door and I block it, pushing my way past him. He winces and sucks in a breath when I bump into him.

  “Wow. Ok. Just come right in.” He spouts off sarcastically.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “That’s very observant.”

  “ Take off your shirt.”

  “Why? You want to fuck?”

  He’s being brash and belligerent. I know he’s hurt and trying to erect a wall around himself. He doesn’t want to let me in to see what’s going on inside. But I keep pushing forward this time, fighting my way in whether he wants me there or not.

  “Max. Do it.”

  “No. Leave my fucking apartment. It’s over.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. I’ve said it. You’ve said it. Let’s stop beating a dead horse.”

  “It’s not.”

  “You said you never wanted to see me again. Then you show up at my apartment three days later like nothing’s wrong?”

  “Take off your damn shirt.”

  He finally does as I ask. His ribcage is covered in dark bruises, almost black and deep under the skin. I reach out to touch the abused area. He flinches before my fingertips connect with his soft skin and I freeze.

  “Don’t.” He says softly.

  The emotional barrier is gone from his voice. His expression has softened as well. We stand in each other’s personal space without moving closer or stepping away. We simply breathe each other’s exhales and feel the energy charging between us. Focusing on our shared breaths is calming to us both.

  “I’m sorry, Max. I overreacted.”

  “No. You didn’t.” His tortured voice is a low, miserable tone.

  “I did. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  He keeps his eyes cast down, hands in his pockets. It’s his go-to stance when he gets uncomfortable. It’s so familiar to me by now. I’ve learned to read his body so well.

  “Please. Listen to me.”

  “Just stay away from me Lacey. I told you I wasn’t good for you. You finally saw it.”

  “You’re not your dad. He’s a shitty guy but that doesn’t mean you are too.”

  I reach out again, slower this time. He tenses but doesn’t stop me as I touch my fingertips to the top of his ribs, light as a feather, and trail them down his side. His breath hitches at the gentle touch.

  His reaction isn’t from pain.

  When I get to the waist of his jeans I hook my finger inside his belt loop and tug him to me. He doesn’t resist pressing his front to me. We mold together perfectly just like we always had.

  His bulge nudges my lower belly. I lift up on my tiptoes and cautiously press my lips to his, nestling his ever hardening bulge in the apex between my thighs. The heat of him feels so good.

  I’ve been without him for too long. My clit throbs painfully as I heat up our kiss. He sucks on my tongue and a fresh burst of desire races straight down from my mouth to my pussy, lighting my body up like a Christmas tree.

  I step back and pin him with a seductive look as I bite my bottom lip and lock the door. Don’t need Chris barging in and seeing what I have in mind. I know with Max’s battered ribs he can’t do a lot of what I crave. That doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty we can do.

  His eyes glaze with heat when I strip off everything but my earrings with slow, sexy sways. I feel dirty in the most delicious way and desperate to feel him any way I can.

  He needs to see that I still find him sexy and desirable, no matter what he did in his past. None of that says anything about who he is. He was just as much a victim as any one of the girls his father used and abused.

  I was wrong to imply otherwise. Those accusations came from a place of hurt.

  Since he refused to listen to my words of apology, he could listen to my lips.

  I drop to my knees while he stands there speechless. He stares down at me with hooded eyes and brushes the hair from my face so he can see better as I pull his dick from his jeans and run my tongue slowly over the salty drip that’s beaded up and leaking free.

  His fingers tighten in my hair and he closes his eyes, feeling the sensations blindly.

  I lick up and down the length with a flat tongue. When he moans my name, pleading for me to stop teasing him, I wrap my lips around the bulb of his head and swirl my tongue. My slow motions drive him wild and he’s writhing around, shifting his weight and tugging my hair.

  I love how much he’s enjoying it. That spurs me on.

  I moan with him in my mouth and stop the teasing. It’s time to taste more.

  I slide my lips down until they hit the base of his cock. He fills my mouth and throat fully with his thick length. I moan again, making the hum vibrate against his sensitive tip.

  He pumps his hips, pushing deeper in my mouth. A dribble of arousal runs down my thigh and the sensation turns me on more than I’ve ever felt. My skin is on fire.

  I suck harder and faster.

  His thrusts become uncontrolled and primitive. The thick cords of muscles tighten. The twitching tips me off that he’s about to blow. The heat hits the back of my throat and I don’t pull away.

  I try not to gag at the feeling of the gooey substance running down the back of my throat, managing to resist the reaction. His hands tremble on the back of my hair and gently pull my head back after he floats back down from the high of his release.

  He slides out of my mouth and hangs between us, still semi-hard. I give him another long lick, sending a shiver through his body and a satisfied smile to his face.

  I can’t wait another second.

  Assuming he’ll follow I sashay down the hallway and into his bedroom. Footsteps sound behind me. I toss my hair over my shoulder and look back at him. Then I get on all fours in the middle of his bed, ass facing him suggestively.

  There’s no question what I want. What I’m offering. It’s as obvious as if I spoke the words. Still he hesitates, tilting a brow in question.

  He knows what I went through and how hard this position was for me. It would be hard to forget my reaction the one time he tried to enter me from behind.

  But I trust Max now. Trust him with everything inside my heart and soul. And I want to feel him this way. Share myself with him fully and completely. This is the only position we haven’t tried yet and I’m ready to shed ourselves of that limit.

  I want there to be no limits for us. No barriers or walls in our way.

  Just him.

  Me.

  He must read my expression because after a few long moments he walks up to the bed, his dick back to full arousal. How it happened so fast I wasn’t sure but I was grateful for it. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t wait another second. My clit throbbed painfully and needed relief.

  The mattress sinks behind me under his weight. His dick lines up with my entrance.

  He uses his hand to guide himself inside and rocks his hips forward almost lazily. He’s in no apparent hurry to fill me. His hands rest on the rumpled sheets at each side of my head. I’m face down in the mattress, ass up against his groin.

  He bottoms out and trails his lips across my sh
oulder slowly. My canal tightens around him, desperate for him to move. I try to rock back into him for the friction but he has me pinned into the bed so thoroughly that I can’t move. Can’t push back on him and get my own pleasure.

  I’m at his mercy.

  And I fucking love it. Max is a safe haven. He would never hurt me. Not physically. And the reason he hurt my heart was to try to not hurt me more later on down the road.

  He slides out of me and slams back in harder than I expected. I cry out in pleasure and nudge my ass against him grinding as deep as I can.

  Kisses pepper the back of my neck and down my throat. His stubble scratches my cheek and the sensitive skin along my jaw.

  I turn my head and he devours my lips. Our tongues crash together, fighting for control over the other. His thrusts lose their rhythm as we focus more heavily on the kiss. We stay like that, just kissing with him tucked deep inside of me for so long I lose track of time.

  Sensations crescendo between my legs and I squirm beneath him urgently, begging for him to push me across the threshold of ecstacy like he always does. He complies with my wordless request and breaks our kiss to leverage his weight and pound into my core.

  We finish at the same time and he collapses on top of me limply. His energy is spent and it takes him a while for his breathing to settle and to roll to his back.

  “My fucking ribs are going to pay for that.” He rubs his side and winces. “But it was worth it.”

  Damn. I shouldn’t have teased him. Sex probably was one of many physical activities he wasn’t allowed to do until his battered ribs healed fully. I forgot all about his injuries in my blind lust for him.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice is breathy and relaxed. I sound sated and blissful and anything but sorry.

  He laughs. “You don’t sound sorry.”

  “Ok…” I shrug nonchalantly and snuggle into his pillow. “I’m not.”

  He laughs harder and then moans in pain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  I sober at the tightness in his voice. I can’t make out his expression through the darkness but scoot closer to him, relishing in the warmth radiating from his body.

  “What happened to your ribs?”

  “My dad.”

  “What did he do to you Max?”

  “Kicked my ass, what does it look like?”

  I bristle at his tone. “I’m just asking.”

  He sighs and shifts to a more comfortable position. “I know. I just don’t want you worrying about it. You never should’ve met him to begin with.”

  “I’m glad I did.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. I learned more about you.”

  He’s quiet for a stretch of time as if he isn’t ready for the answers I might have but he can’t resist asking the question. “What did you learn?”

  “That you love me.”

  He laughs again but it’s not deep enough to shake his chest. “That’s all you got from all that?”

  “That’s all I cared about.”

  He makes an amused sound in the back of his throat.

  “It’s the only part that matters, Max. That other stuff? It was before I knew you. You were a teenager when that happened. That doesn’t reflect on you or who you are. It reflects on your dad. He made you guys do those things.”

  He listens quietly and doesn’t move a muscle. I can’t even hear his breaths. He’s hanging on my every word and I know this is a pivotal moment. The moment he hears that this isn’t his fault. That he was a victim of his father. That I don’t blame him for his past or even his present.

  “You’re a good man, Max. If you weren’t you wouldn’t feel this guilt. You wouldn’t even think twice about your past. You wouldn’t have left that life and started at Red Valley. You chose to leave and give yourself a new life. A better life.”

  “I still work for him Lacey.” He sounds so tortured and it kills me.

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you work for him?” I push.

  I already know the answers but it seems like he doesn’t. Maybe he needs help digging deep and realizing the truth.

  “Because…”

  “Why?” Say it.

  “Because I have to.” I hear the frustration of this. He hates it.

  “You have to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Drop it.”

  I sigh, sensing the conversation is coming to an end.

  “You have to do it. So it isn’t your choice. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

  He doesn’t respond. Silence fills the room and covers us like a wet blanket.

  “What were you doing here the other day when he was here?” There’s nothing but curiosity when he asks and his hand finds mine under the blanket. His thumb rubs comforting circles over the top of my hand like he always does and it brings a sense of peace to the room.

  “Chris came to Blue’s. I was a bitch. I wanted to say sorry about it and he mentioned he was staying with you again.”

  “Why’d you come when I was in class?”

  “Obviously because I was avoiding you.”

  He laughs and squeezes my hand. “Obviously.”

  “It just hurt to see you. It hurt to see you and not be with you.”

  He slowly rolls to his uninjured side to face me and palms my cheek. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “It…it hurt me too. But I really thought it was what was best for you.”

  “Being without you could never be what’s best for me.”

  “I really do love you.”

  “I really do love you too.”

  Voices from the parking lot drift up to the bedroom and we listen to the sounds of laughter. They’re probably headed out for the night. Headed to a place like Blue’s where they can have a few drinks and dance their worries away. I’m glad we’re holed up in his cozy bed, in each other’s atmosphere and untouched by the outside world.

  “Chris has really been worried about you.”

  It wouldn’t be well received if he knew I was telling Max that. I doubt he wanted him to know. But he had been to Blue’s both nights since the incident. The first night was to check if I was okay. The second night was to let me know how concerned he was about Max not getting out of bed until noon, missing class and hardly speaking to anyone. Again.

  He told me it was how Max acted after our first breakup and he was more worried than before. It wasn’t like him at all and I almost didn’t even believe it was true until I saw it with my own eyes.

  “He’s one to talk.”

  “He stopped by Blue’s a couple times.”

  “Is that why you showed up today? Checking up on me for my brother?” He asks.

  “No.”

  “No?” He smirks playfully, tickling my side. “I don’t think I believe you. Are you sure, angel?”

  “Please! I swear!” His fingers dig into my sides in just the right way to draw out uncontrollable giggling. I manage to squirm out of his reach on the other side of the bed. His injured side limits his movements and he gives up easily enough.

  The sun sets outside the window and slowly dims the light peaking through the slats of the wooden blinds until we’re immersed in darkness. Neither of us makes a move to get out of bed. Or put on clothes. Or turn on a lamp. We reconnect and fall back into step with the way things were before.

  Our roles switch while holding hands and I trace the back of his hand with my thumb. Right over the scar that mars his smooth skin.

  He swallows audibly and takes a deep breath. He’s about to say something meaningful. Monumental. I can sense it so surely that it rattles me. This is going to be the moment he tells me about his scar.

  “I was mouthy when I was a teenager. Always had some smart ass comment. You can imagine how well that kind of shit went over in my house growing up.”

  He pauses, his body stiff and breaths carefully controlled. I keep stroking his ha
nd wishing my touch could heal the scar on his heart as well as his hand. Wishing that I could erase the memories linked to the scar since it so clearly troubled him.

  “One day I decided I wasn’t going to do what he asked. I wanted to go to a basketball game with my friends. Everyone was going and I was tired of missing shit all the time because of him.” My stomach clenches as I slowly piece things together in my mind. “When I told him I wasn’t selling dope that night, that I was going with my friends instead…” He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “I almost wish he just beat my ass. At least then I wouldn’t still have to look at the reminder every day.”

  “What did he do to you, Max?”

  He clears his throat. “He calmly pulled out a switchblade from his pocket and stabbed my hand into the kitchen table. Pinned me there for a couple hours. Well after the game finished, that’s for damn sure. I was too scared to pull it out myself. Just sat there, trying not to move. He pulled up a chair and sat at the table with me…smiling at me. And when he was convinced I learned my lesson he pulled it out…wiped my blood off his knife with a dish towel. And then he gave me the drugs he wanted me to sell to begin with. I wrapped my hand and did what he asked.”

  Poor Max.

  My heart ached for him, a cocky teen just wanting to spend time with his friends. Defying his sadistic father before life taught him what happened when you weren’t careful of your words.

  “I learned better than to pull any shit like that again.”

  Chapter 28

  Max

  “So…” Chris starts saying as we both sit at the kitchen table a couple mornings later. “You and Lacey are back together?”

  “Yeah I think so.” I can’t stop the grin.

  “Happy to hear it, bro.” He matches my smile and I know he really means it. “If you kept moping around here I was going to buy you a box of tampons.”

  “Fuck you.” I laugh, throwing the only thing within reach that won’t shatter when it hits the floor: a pen. It bounces off his chest and he laughs at the playful act of violence.

  After drinking his coffee while I check my school emails on my phone, Chris speaks up again in a serious tone.

  “Hey.” He says, making me look up from my phone. “I arranged a bed at a treatment facility. You think you could drive me up to Westwood today?”