11. 2
My stomach is in knots as we ride the elevator. I’m worried sick that the Max I’m about to see won’t be the same one I’ve grown to love in the basement.
Bran senses my nervousness and nudges my shoulder. I look up at him and sign, What if he doesn’t feel the same way now that we’re out?
He quickly signs, Then he’s a moron, and I’ll shoot him for you.
I grin, I can’t help it, and Bran gives me another gentle nudge before signing, Relax. Everything will be fine. The hard part is over.
I hope like hell he’s right. I’d wanted to stay with Max when we landed, but his parents had rushed him to the hospital, and I’d been taken to Dominic’s house so Tony could examine me. After convincing my dad that aside from needing to put on some weight and stay hydrated, I really am okay, I’d finally been allowed to shower and change. No one’s given me an update on Max, though, and I’m dying to know how his hand is and if he’s okay.
The soft ding of the elevator kicks my heart rate up a notch. The doors open, and I hear Dima give a soft laugh when I try to scoot around everyone so I can see Max. The penthouse is beautiful, and his family is standing and waiting for us, but I barely register any of it.
As soon as I can, I scoot around my brother and get my first glimpse of Max. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. I’d thought he was gorgeous caked in dirt and sweaty with fever, but the sight of him freshly showered, beard trimmed to nothing but a dark stubble, and a T-shirt that exposes all the tattoos and muscle his sweatshirt had hidden, I realize how wrong I’d been. He’s not just gorgeous—he’s mouthwateringly handsome in a way that immediately makes me feel like he’s way out of my league.
Part of me is too intimidated to run to him, but as soon as our eyes meet, my body moves like it has a mind of its own. A huge smile lights up his face, and as soon as I’m close enough, he’s wrapping his good arm around me and cupping the back of my head while he leans down closer so his mouth is near my ear.
“ Svetik moy ,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you.”
I nod my head and breathe in the clean scent of him. “I missed you, too,” I whisper back. It takes a second for me to remember anything beyond how good this moment feels, but when I do, I quickly take a step back and look at his arm. His forearm is in a sling that, thankfully, I’m not smooshing since I came at him from the side. Bandages cover his entire hand, so I can’t see how bad it is.
“What did the doctor say?” I ask.
“He numbed it and made it so my fingers are pointing in the right direction again,” he says with a small grin. “He and I will be seeing a lot of each other, and they’ll be bringing in a therapist at some point to start working with me.”
Seeing the worry on my face, he drags a finger along my jaw and says, “I’m fine. My hand will heal, and we’re alive and here because of you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”
I remember jamming the knife into Miguel’s neck and then immediately force the memory away. “It was fine,” I tell him. “We both know he deserved it.”
“He did,” Max agrees, “but I’m still sorry you had to be the one to do it. It’s not an easy thing to kill someone, no matter how evil that person might be.”
I nod, wanting to tell him so many things about that night, but a noise behind me reminds me that both our families are watching us. I quickly turn and face them, feeling my cheeks heat up. I recognize his dad and brother from last night, and they both return my smile, but it’s his mom who comes up and gives me a big hug.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” she whispers. “I’m Simona. Max and Niki’s mom.” Pulling back, she meets my eyes as hers quickly fill, tears spilling down her cheeks as she says, “Thank you for protecting our son.”
My own eyes grow wet at the emotion in her voice. I shake my head, because everyone keeps acting like I’m a hero when I’m anything but.
“It was Max who saved me,” I tell her. “If it weren’t for your son, I’d be dead.” I say the words, knowing in my heart they’re true. He’s been protecting me ever since I first saw him—telling me stories to cheer me up, sharing his food and water, holding my hand so I could sleep, and then subjecting himself to torture to keep them from touching me. He’s saved me in a million different ways, and I never would’ve survived that basement without him.
Max comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side in a comforting hug. “We saved each other,” he says.
After a few seconds, Dima says, “So, do we get to meet him, Talia, or are you planning on keeping him all to yourself?”
I grin at my older brother and wipe my face dry. “Sorry.” Looking up at Max, I say and sign so Bran can know what’s going on, “These are my brothers.”
“Hey, man. I’m Dima,” my older brother says, holding up his hand to avoid an awkward left-handed shake. “You were out of it the first time I saw you.”
“Yeah, apparently I was roofied,” Max says while Dima signs the conversation.
“What?” I ask. “He said they were aspirin.”
Max grins. “They were a little stronger than that.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. It gave me a nice break from the pain,” he says, refusing to let me feel bad about it. “Can you introduce me to Bran?”
I turn to my other brother and smile while I sign and say, “Bran, this is Max.” Looking up at Max, I say, “This is Bran, my partner in most crimes.”
Bran grins when he sees what I’ve signed and signs back, Partner? More like I’m the guy who tries to talk you out of trouble.
I tell Max what he’s signed and then say, “Don’t believe him. I never get in trouble.”
“Of course you don’t,” my dad says, overhearing and stepping closer. Instead of trying to shake Max’s good hand, he surprises me by leaning in and giving Max a hug, being careful to not touch his arm. “Thank you for saving my daughter. I know what you did for her, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that. It would’ve killed all of us if they’d abused her like they’d wanted to.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d allowed that to happen to her,” Max says. He turns to me when my dad lets him go and says, “Can you tell Bran that I’m glad I got to finally meet him, and that I’m sorry I don’t know sign language. As soon as my hand is better, I’m going to start learning.”
“Really?” I ask, so surprised it takes me a second to remember I’m supposed to be passing on the message. I sign everything to Bran, who gives a nod of approval and then signs to me, I told you it would be fine. I’m glad I don’t have to shoot him. I kind of like the guy.
I’m still smiling when Simona says, “Please, make yourselves at home.” I watch her and decide very quickly that I really like Max’s mom. She’s sweet and obviously loves her family immensely. I see genuine warmth in her eyes when she looks at her two boys and husband. Danil wraps an arm around her, and he looks at her like my dad looks at my mom, and that right there tells me everything I need to know about him.
Simona waves for my brothers to follow her down a hall, showing them the rooms they can stay in while his dad pours my parents a drink.
“Thanks,” my dad says. “I could definitely use one.”
They take a seat in the living room while Max uses his good hand to guide me down another hall. We step into a large bedroom that looks lived in but clean. Aside from the king-sized bed and flatscreen TV mounted to the wall, there’s a few pieces of clothing thrown over a chair, a stack of books on the nightstand, and in the corner, there’s an upright piano with several stacks of paper littered along the top. The room is obviously being used, but it doesn’t feel permanent.
I lift a brow at him. “Is this where you live?”
He walks to the large chair in the corner and sits down. “Before Val and I were taken, we were on lock down. We knew there was a threat against us, and we thought it would be safer to not be spread apart, so I moved back in here. I have a house not too far from here. I’m going to stay here while I recover a bit more and my mom has time to convince herself that I really am safe.”
I smile over at him while I walk towards the piano to snoop a bit. “Your family seems really nice.”
“They are. Yours seem nice, too.”
“They are,” I say, mirroring his answer as I peek at the nearest stack of papers. “Wow,” I whisper when I see the pages and pages of sheet music, all of them covered in handwritten musical notes and abbreviations. It’s utter nonsense to me. You could sit me down with these pages and give me hours to study them, and they’d still make zero sense to me. I look over my shoulder at him, smiling when I see that he’s still staring at me. “What is all this?”
“Songs I’ve been working on,” he says, and then runs his eyes over me.
He looks unbelievably sexy in his joggers and T-shirt, relaxed and clean with a grin playing at his lips. Hooking his finger, he motions for me to come to him. I do as he wants, crossing the large room until I’m standing before him. I hesitate, making his grin grow, and when he pats his thigh, I can’t hide my own smile as I sink onto his lap.
I try to not put too much weight on him and to keep myself completely clear of his arm, but he sees the stiff way I’m holding myself and lets out a soft grunt of disapproval before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me firmly against him. I let out a surprised laugh and then sink into his embrace, relaxing and molding my body to the side of his.
“Much better,” he murmurs, dragging his nose along my hair and breathing me in.
“It’s nice I don’t stink anymore, right?”
He kisses the side of my head. “You never smelled.”
“That’s incredibly kind of you to say. I washed my hair three times,” I admit with a laugh. “It felt like pure heaven.”
“My brother had to wash my hair, so I won’t say it felt like heaven, but I do feel a thousand times better now that I’m clean.”
I turn, our faces so close I can see specks of blue in his eyes. The basement hadn’t been bright enough for me to see them before. “You’re intimidatingly good looking, Max,” I say, making him laugh.
“Would you feel more comfortable if I got dirty again?”
“Maybe,” I admit
He smiles and shakes his head. “You’re the intimidating one, svetik moy . You stole the breath right from my lungs when I saw you tonight. I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more beautiful.”
“A bar of soap can work miracles.”
He shakes his head in disagreement. “No, it’s just you. I thought you were beautiful caked in dirt in that grimy basement, and I think you’re beautiful now.” His nose grazes along my neck as he breathes me in again. “I do like the smell of whatever it is you’re wearing, though. God, that smells good. What is it?”
“Vanilla cinnamon body milk,” I tell him. “My mom packed me a bag of all my favorite things so I’d have them once they found me. I’m glad you like it. It’s always been my favorite scent.”
“I love it,” he says. His fingers stay locked on my hip as he holds me close and I rest my head against his shoulder. “Does it feel weird to be around me now that we’re out?”
“Not weird exactly, just different, I guess. I was really nervous on the way here.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to avoid answering, but he calls me on it and says, “Please, tell me.”
I rest my hand on his chest, still being careful to avoid the sling and say, “I was afraid that maybe you wouldn’t want to see me, that I’d be a memory you didn’t want to be reminded of, or that you’d feel differently now that we’re free.”
“I was nervous too,” he says, surprising me. “I was worried about the same things you were, so afraid you’d changed your mind and wouldn’t want to see me again.”
“I guess I didn’t do a good enough job of making myself clear then,” I say.
I feel the soft heat of his breath against my temple as he gives a soft laugh. “More like I thought you might change your mind and decide you only felt that way because we were stuck together, and I was the only other person sharing that basement with you.”
“I see,” I say, tipping my chin up so I can see the stubbled line of his masculine jaw. “Well, first off, Val was also there for a good bit, and you never saw me trying to cozy up to him.”
“He’s very happily married,” he reminds me. “Val’s never looked at anyone other than Yelena.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just saying I never felt for him what I feel for you, even though he was stuck down there too. And if you’re worried about some kind of crazy Stockholm Syndrome thing like you mentioned in the basement, you can relax. If that were the case, I would’ve been all over Mateo. Which I wasn’t, by the way, not even after you were passed out and he came in to check on you.”
“I’m very happy to hear that. It would’ve broken my heart to hear you were flirting with the enemy.”
“Never,” I whisper, taking advantage of the position and pressing my nose against his neck so I can breathe in the scent of him. He isn’t wearing cologne. It’s just the sweet, clean scent of him, and my whole body responds to it.
He groans and squeezes me tighter, pulling me harder against him, and when my thigh presses against the hard length of him, I suck in a quick breath.
“Max,” I whisper.
He dusts his lips along my temple. “Yes, svetik moy ?”
I decide to just be honest and ask, “What is this? I mean between us? What is this to you now that we’re free?”
“The same thing it was when we weren’t free. When it comes to how I feel about you, nothing has changed for me. I fell in love with you in the dark, Talia, and I still love you now that we’re in the light.”
Tears fill my eyes at his words. I cup his face and lift up so I can rest my forehead against his when he leans down to me. “I love you, too,” I whisper, watching his face light up in a smile at hearing me say it.
His good hand cups my cheek, and he runs his thumb along my skin. “Didn’t we make each other a promise? Something about a proper kiss after we were both cleaned up and my hand was numb?”
I pretend to think and then shake my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“No? I must’ve been hallucinating, because I definitely remember being promised a real kiss.” His long fingers undo my ponytail and slide into my hair as he pulls me so close our lips are almost touching. The heat of his breath hits my skin, making my heart race in my chest. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the word leaves my mouth, his lips are pressing to mine as his large hand cups the back of my head. His lips are warm and soft, gently coaxing mine open so he can deepen the kiss. He effortlessly pulls a moan from deep within my chest while I keep one hand on his face and the other in this thick, soft hair.
The deep, masculine groan he gives lights my body on fire in ways I’ve never experienced before. The bulge pressing against my thigh grows bigger and harder, and unable to resist, I reach down to touch him.
“Fuck,” he growls against my lips when I tentatively start to explore his length.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Max,” I say, making him laugh. It’s true, though. I had no idea he was so well-endowed. This is my first experience with dick, but I’m not an idiot and I have access to the internet. Most men are not built like Max. I rest my palm on his shaft and give him a hard enough squeeze to pull another groan from him.
“Your hand on my cock is the sweetest fucking torture,” he murmurs against my lips. “Far worse than anything Miguel ever did to me.”
“Want me to stop?”
He gives a low, sexy laugh. “I don’t ever want you to stop, svetik moy .”
Before giving me a chance to respond, he closes the distance, kissing me like he’ll never be able to get his fill. I feel the same way about him. It will never be enough, especially not right now—a few stolen moments before our families come looking for us. I don’t want minutes with him. I want hours, days, years, a lifetime. I want it all, and I want it with him.
With a pained groan, he slows the kiss down. His tongue runs along mine in a slow caress that has me pressing against him even harder, wanting our bodies to be so much closer than they’re capable of being right now.
“I’m never letting you go,” he whispers, the words a warm breath against my lips before he gives me another kiss.
“Promise?” I whisper back.
“I promise.”
I grin and kiss him again. “Good.”
His fingers soften, gently running through my hair as he watches me. “I hate not having two working hands,” he finally says after several seconds of silence.
I glance over at his piano, knowing it must be killing him to not be able to play it after all this time, but he drags his thumb along my chin, drawing my attention back to him.
“Not because of that,” he says.
“I know it hurts you that you can’t play.”
“It does,” he admits, “but it’s not being able to touch you how I want that’s hurting me right now. Fuck the piano. It’s your body I want to play. I’d give anything to be able to use my fingers to pull the sweetest notes from you. You’re a sonata, svetik moy , just waiting to be written.”
His words nearly do me in, and when I pull him down for another kiss, he lets me take what I want. He doesn’t resist when I slide my tongue in to meet his or when I turn so I’m straddling one of his strong thighs. The yoga pants I’m wearing are a thin barrier, and feeling him against my aching core makes me nearly delirious. A need shoots through me, unlike anything I’ve ever known, and when I start to grind against him, he groans and fists my hair, holding me still as he deepens the kiss.
Unable to resist, I chase my pleasure, using his thigh with a merciless abandon that until this moment I didn’t know I possessed.
“Do it,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Fucking use me, sweetheart. Let me hear you come.”
“It’s not fair,” I try to argue, but my hips still rock against him, and it’s clear I’m not putting up much of a fight.
I feel him smile against my lips, finding humor in my sad attempt at being selfless. “It is fair,” he insists. “I want this more than you can possibly imagine. Share this with me, svetik moy . Let me see you come undone.”
I’m helpless to resist him, not when he’s kissing me so sweetly and begging me to fall apart in his arms, and definitely not when he grabs onto my ass and presses me harder against the strong, muscled thigh between my legs. Fire ignites in my core, forcing a delicious wave of pleasure to erupt and spread to every part of my body. He kisses me harder, stifling my moans with his lips as I lose myself completely.
Tremors run through me when I start to come down, but Max doesn’t let up. He gentles the hand on my ass, but he makes sure my clit is still being stimulated, wringing every second of pleasure from my orgasm as he can.
“I knew you’d sound beautiful when you come. Such sweet music, Talia. I can still hear it in my head.” He peppers my face with soft kisses while I try and catch my breath. “As soon as I can, I’m going to compose a song and call it ‘When my Sweet Girl Comes.’”
I laugh, ridiculously happy and still riding my high. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Mmm,” he says, nuzzling his nose along my cheek. “I’ll need to hear your sweet music many more times, though, just so I can make sure I do it justice and get the notes right.”
“I could never stand in the way of your musical genius. Feel free to give me an orgasm anytime you need a reminder.”
He smiles and kisses the corner of my mouth before saying, “That’s very kind of you.”
“I thought so,” I say with a smile. Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against his and let out a contented sigh. “Thank you, Max.”
“For?”
His hand traces soothing circles along my back before lowering to run along the curve of my ass, and I’m suddenly so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. All the worry and fear come crashing down on me. I lean my head against his shoulder and say, “For so many things.”
“You don’t need to thank me for any of them, especially not the orgasm.” He gives a soft laugh. “That was as much for me as it was for you.”
“I don’t see how that’s true. You must be miserable.” Forcing my head up, I look down at the rock-hard bulge that’s still nestled against his inner thigh. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Stop worrying about me,” he says. “I’m fine, and you’re exhausted.”
“But maybe I can help,” I say, reaching my hand out to grip him.