Zane, because what Dec was doing was beyond stupid and Thad would lose his mind because his wife Emerson would lose hers.
“Have you heard from Tex?”
“Yeah, he called about an hour ago and filled us in. Everything good with you?”
That was a hell fucking no. My head was so far up my own ass where Eva was concerned, I was afraid I’d never breathe fresh air again.
“Yep. We’re at the hotel. Everything set for us to arrive tomorrow?”
“Really wish you—”
“We talked about this already. No way was I gonna make those kids sit in the car for ten-plus hours, which really means fourteen. It’s bad enough we did seven today. I heard you the first time you bitched about me not driving straight through. Get over it, Dec. I got them covered.”
“Right, but who’s got you covered? Yesterday you were almost taken out.”
“That was yesterday. Today no one tried to kill me, it’s all good. We’ll leave first thing. Which by the way, have a rental at the hotel by nine. No way in hell am I putting them in an SUV that’s been sitting in a hotel parking lot unwatched.”
“Copy that.”
“And make sure it’s an SUV.”
“Goddamn, King Max. Anything else?”
I couldn’t stop from smiling at Declan’s annoyance.
“No, that will be all, my faithful servant.”
“Fuck off.”
Dec disconnected and I shook my head—two people in the last five minutes had hung up on me.
Damn, my friends sure know how to make a guy feel the love.
I heard it, the door creak, the soft footfalls, the shallow breathing, the hesitation, before I felt a soft hand touch my shoulder.
Then I heard Eva’s squeak of surprise after I reached out, snagged her hand, yanked her onto the bed, and rolled her under me.
“Max.”
That was all she said, all it took for my control to slip, her saying my fucking name in that sweet, breathy whisper.
“If this isn’t what you want, tell me to stop now.”
She didn’t tell me to stop, she didn’t utter a word, but her legs wound around my back and her heels dug in.
One hand fisted her hair, keeping her mouth where I wanted it, and the other traveled down and yanked her panties to the side before I dipped two fingers into her pussy.
Fucking hell, wet.
Not bothering to waste time taking them off, I shoved them farther out of the way and lined my cock up and drove home.
Christ, better than I remembered. Hot, slick, and tight as fuck.
Our tongues continued to play as I tried to find some sort of control to slow this down. I wanted to savor her, take my time, explore her body, and learn what drove her wild. But when her nails raked down my back and her legs tightened, control wasn’t an option.
Eva wrenched her mouth from mine, her head tilted back, and on a long moan she mumbled, “Harder.”
Fucking perfect.
“Shush, honey,” I reminded her when her soft moans grew louder.
Her face went into my neck, her hips bucked up to meet my thrusts, and her pussy hugged my cock so fucking tight I was counting back from ten to fight off my need to explode.
With every stroke, I sank deeper into heaven.
Every moan was the sweetest sound.
“Max, please.”
Yeah, the sweetest fucking sound.
“What do you need, honey?”
“More.”
“You want my hand, Eva?”
“Yes.”
“Gotta loosen your legs, honey,” I told her, giving her thigh a squeeze.
Her legs fell open, her heels went to the mattress, knees bent, and she fucked me, driving up as I plunged down. Hell, yeah, Eva felt like heaven.
My hand started to go between her legs, then I changed direction, grabbed hers, and brought them both to my original destination.
With her finger on her clit, mine over hers, I started to rub.
“I want to feel you get yourself off.” Eva started to shake her head but I pressed harder on her clit and continued. “Come on, honey, take over,” I coaxed.
After a second, her finger started to move and I wished the lights had been on so I could watch.
“Next time, we’re taking this slow.”
“Max.”
“Just like that, honey, harder.”
Wetness gushed and her pussy started to flutter.
“Christ, Eva,” I grunted. “Get there.”
“I’m there, Max.”
Yeah, she was, and she felt like a hot, sleek fist squeezing my cock.
Control gone, I let go and powered into her. Fast, hard, and rough, until all my restraint was gone and I spilled inside of her.
With my cock planted as deep as I could go, still wanting to get deeper, Eva’s hand trapped between us, her pussy convulsing around my shaft, my face buried in her neck, I couldn’t stop myself from sinking my teeth into the soft flesh between her shoulder and neck.
“Oh my God, Max,” she moaned, and sweet fuck, she wrapped all four limbs around and held on tight.
Eva’s lips pressed against my chest and she nuzzled closer. The gesture did all kinds of crazy shit to me—it muddled my head and made me want to keep her pinned under me for eternity. Where in the fuck did that come from? Her choppy breath fanned across my heated skin and pulled me back to reality. Begrudgingly, I lifted my weight off her and balanced on my elbow while brushing her soft brown strands away from her pretty face.
Unlike the first time she made no move to disengage, there was no shock or panic in her eyes, nothing but soft, hazy satisfaction. And I couldn’t stop the swell of pride—the knowledge that I’d put that look on her face. It hit me in all the places I normally kept locked down.
Maybe it wasn’t her pussy that was heaven, maybe it was just her—all of her. The way she said my name, the way she held me tight, the way she allowed herself to be open even when she thought it was embarrassing.
Her hands roamed my back and a smile played on her puffy pink lips when she asked, “Is your shoulder okay?”
“Yeah, honey, it’s fine.”
I rolled to the side, taking her with me and did something I’d never done—I pulled her close, not wanting her to run away. Not yet, not until I got my fill, not until I sated this crazy need to hold her.
Eva was unabashed in her examination. Her palm skimmed down my chest, and for the first time in years, I enjoyed the soft touch of a woman. This wasn’t about sex or passion, it was exploratory. Her hand made it down my stomach, pausing before her finger traced my scar.
Not even the goodness of her touch could erase the memories, and before she could continue, I grabbed her wrist, halting her progress. She lifted her head off my chest and in the dim light, I could read the question in her eyes.
“Just don’t.”
“Don’t what? Touch it or ask about it?”
“Both.”
Eva gave me a sad smile before she lowered her head back down and burrowed close.
“All right, Max, I won’t touch it.”
I released her wrist and she immediately moved her hand to safer territory—but the moment was broken. Eva was no longer relaxed.
“It’s just—”
“Shh, Max. I get it. We all have things we don’t want to talk about. You don’t need to explain.”
Jesus, she did get it—more than most, she understood that there were things that were better off left buried. And how that scar came to be was one of those things. The problem was, with Eva’s warm, soft body pressed against mine, I didn’t want secrets between us. I didn’t want to leave things buried. I wanted her to know why that scar was a visual reminder never to let my guard down. But if I told her that, I’d need to explain what happened to the person who’d tried her best to kill me.
And with all of those crazy thoughts swirling around in my head, and with Eva cuddled close, I realized I was a little more than over my head.
Chapter 17
“Why are we switching cars?” I asked when a member of the hotel staff interrupted our breakfast to give Max a set of keys.
Max’s gaze went from me to the man dressed in a suit still standing next to our table, and instead of answering my question, he made his own inquiry. “Is the car parked in front of the valet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’d like it left there until we’re ready to check out.”
“But—”
Max reached out and I saw a folded bill in his hand before the men clasped hands.
“No problem,” the man in the suit said. He tipped his head then walked away.
“Did you give him money?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because I want the car left in front of the building where no one will think to get near it or they’ll get caught on camera. To get my way, I paid him.”
“Why did—”
“We’re not taking any chances,” Max cut me off and looked over at the boys.
Both of them were coloring on the restaurant’s paper kids’ menus, neither paying attention.
“Chances?”
Max shook his head and asked, “Are you done with your breakfast?”
I knew he wasn’t going to like my answer, because he didn’t like the one I’d given him five minutes ago when he asked the first time and that answer was, I didn’t have a big appetite in the morning. I suspected we’d sat there for those five extra minutes after I’d told him I was done with my half-eaten meal in the hopes that I’d change my mind and dig in. But I hadn’t—to which I’d been on the receiving end of one of Max’s glacial stares.
“I really can’t eat much in the morning,” I told him.
“You need to eat.”
“You need to stop trying to force-feed me. Last night, the steak you had me order was too much. Now this morning I knew I couldn’t finish all of this.” I motioned to the leftover eggs, pancakes, and toast. I had laid waste to the four slices of bacon—because, hello, it was bacon. “I don’t like wasting food, and with us travelling, I can’t pack it up and take it with us.”
“I don’t care if—”
“I do, Max. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I was stuffed full last night…” A sly, sexy smirk tipped his lips up and my cheeks heated.
“Stuffed full?”
“You just couldn’t pass up the chance, could you?”
Do all men have the minds of teenage boys?
Max tilted his head, smirk firmly in place, yet he remained quiet.
The silence gave me a moment to reflect on last night.
I’d gone to him.
After lying awake for hours after my boys had fallen asleep, I’d gone into his room with the sole purpose of having sex with Max. It was not smart—as a matter of fact, it was probably the stupidest thing I’d ever done and that was saying something considering I’d hooked up with Jay, then married him.
The sex had been phenomenal—better than the first time.
That wasn’t the stupid part. That came later, when I continued to lie under Max after we’d finished. After he’d slowed his strokes, slowed the kiss, and started nibbling on my lips, then moved lower to my neck. After he’d gone soft but didn’t move from between my legs.
I’d kept my legs wrapped around him, my hands continued to roam his back, memorizing the puckered scar on the lower left side, feeling the rough edges of skin glue holding together the gash he’d earned saving my life. All of that was just dumb. But it was when I lay there and allowed myself to pretend Max was someone he wasn’t, that I’d crossed into stupid.
In this imaginary world I was make-believing, Max was just Max—not my bodyguard. And I was just Eva—not a single mother on the run with a boatload of baggage and a past full of lies and felonies.
The hardest part was Max let me have it. He didn’t rush me out of his room, he didn’t roll off me severing our connection, he let me savor it.
It was a nice thing for him to do, maybe the nicest thing anyone had ever done. He hadn’t treated me like the stupid bitch I was, coming to him in the middle of the night to have sex. He gave me something sweet and tender. Something no one had ever done for me—not even Jay in the beginning when he was playing me, pretending he was a decent human being and not a low-life, drug-dealing, piece of shit. The only awkward part was when I’d touched his scar, something I’d wanted to do since I caught sight of it. Obviously, it was a sore subject, one I would avoid in the future. I knew a lot about sore subjects. I’d show him the same respect, he’d shown me last night and never bring it up again.
So, to bring my musing full circle back to Max sitting across from me, he had a lot to be smug about, and his smile told me he knew it. Last night I had indeed been stuffed full in a variety of ways. He’d made sure I’d eaten a big, healthy meal. One I would’ve never ordered for myself, mostly because it was a fifty dollar steak, and I hadn’t ever been to a restaurant that offered one of those. The other part of that was, I wouldn’t have ordered it so that I could give my kids what they wanted off the menu. Max had done both, given me the best steak I’d ever eaten and the boys whatever they wanted, including two Shirley Temples each.
Then throughout dinner, he’d given me more by being kind to my boys. He asked them about all sorts of stuff, he listened when they talked, and Max had done the impossible and won my shy, quiet Elijah over. Part of it was watching how comfortable Liam was when talking to Max so he mimicked his older brother. But the rest was Max asking Eli about the cartoon he’d been watching at the safehouse the day before. I didn’t even realize Max had been paying that close of attention. By the end of the night, Eli was talking as much as Liam was.
So, me going to Max last night with a full belly, a full heart, emotions raw and at the surface, was the dumbest thing I’d ever done.
I was setting myself up for heartbreak and strife.
I knew it and I still went to him.
“Mom,” Liam called.
“Yeah?”
“Eli asked you when we were leaving,” he informed me.
“Sorry, I was woolgathering.” I focused on Elijah, then I looked at Max. “Are we ready?”
At some point during my musings, Max had stopped smiling and had switched to his favorite expression. And since I was sitting across from him, I couldn’t avoid the spear of his icy blues. I wasn’t sure how ice could burn, but those eyes aimed in my direction studying me close, pinning me in place, blistered.
“Yeah, we should hit the road.” I was staring right at Max so I didn’t miss it, though I didn’t think he tried to hide it when he softened his features and looked to the boys. “Would either of you like anything else before we leave?”
His question should’ve felt patronizing—him asking my boys if they needed something—like their mother couldn’t provide it but he could. But instead, it felt a whole lot like he was asking because he cared. Another stupid thing I’d pretended last night, and apparently that notion had carried over to breakfast.
Max didn’t care in the way I’d hopefully imagined. He was simply being nice, because as I was learning, under all that rough fire and ice he was a nice guy and he did care about us in the sense he didn’t want us dead, so he would protect us the best he could.
But when this was over, he’d be gone. I couldn’t let my boys get attached to him. In the not-so-distant future, he’d just be another person we kept in our prayers and were thankful for.
Max received two ‘no thank yous’ to his question. And after watching Liam and Elijah for a beat, he turned back to me.
“We’ll check out and hit the road.”
Ten minutes later, we were in a new fully kitted-out SUV, complete with individual TVs in the headrests and headphones so the boys could each watch what they wanted but we didn’t have to hear.
I kept quiet about this and didn’t disturb Max as he guided the beast of a vehicle onto the interstate. I also kept silen
t after the boys had donned the headphones and were into their shows and Max called a man named Declan. He made this call and kept it on speakerphone so I could hear it, too.
It was weirdly personal, me listening to Max speak on the phone. It felt like he almost trusted me with the details of the conversation. Though the men were talking about me, so I guess I had a right to listen in, yet it still felt strange.
The call was short and to the point. Declan reported that Tex hadn’t found anything new and the house that the boys and I would be staying in was ready and stocked. Declan also said that Anaya had picked up the stuff that Max requested for the boys and had already dropped it all at the house.
I didn’t know who Anaya was but Max’s face gentled when Declan mentioned her name. I didn’t think that Max was the kind of man who would’ve had sex with me twice if he had a woman, but he’d been clear he wasn’t relationship material so maybe he just had friends. The kind he had sex with without the hassle of the relationship part. That thought didn’t sit well—as a matter of fact, it churned my stomach. Couple that with Max asking this woman to buy stuff for my kids and I felt a little nauseous.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked after a few minutes of silence.
Instead of asking him the real question, the one burning my stomach, I decided to touch on the topic that was somewhat safe, or at least the issue that needed to be settled that didn’t make me sound like a crazy-jealous woman who didn’t understand the difference between stress-driven sex and feelings.
“You shouldn’t’ve bought the boys anything.”
“What?”
“Whatever you asked your friend to pick up for the boys. You shouldn’t be buying them stuff. If they need something, I’ll get it for them.”
“My friend?”
“Anaya.”
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