Chapter Forty-Six
We spent forty minutes going over the same three moves—they were all about me quickly getting the upper hand and then running.
He never actually taught me how to fight.
When he first said he wanted to teach me how to fight, I panicked, as it's not really my thing, especially given that’s what my uncle gets his kicks out of.
But I was relieved when he explained it was to defend myself.
"Thank you," I say, as we sit on the mat in the middle of the gym. He gives me a small smile and reaches for me, pulling me closer to him. He grabs my legs and lifts them over the top of his, resting his large, tattooed hand over my thigh.
"You don't have to thank me, baby. I want you to be safe. We’ll do this every few days,” he tells me, his other hand running up my back and cupping the back of my neck.
"Okay," I say, resting my hand on top of his. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah." He doesn't hesitate to respond.
I grab the water bottle he took out of the fridge in the corner of the room when he finished showing me how to defend myself and down a big gulp of it, quenching my thirst from the work out.
I reach up, grabbing his hand, and move it from my face. I run my fingers over his tattoo of the sunflowers and the dove. "This is beautiful," I tell him, glancing up at him, before my eyes fall back to the tattoo. I can feel him watching my movements as my fingers trace the outline of the flowers.
He's silent as he watches my fingers. He takes a few deeps breaths, before grabbing hold of my hand, stopping my movements.
"My mum used to have a couple of pet doves, and her favourite flowers were sunflowers.
" I look up at his face, and there’s a hint of a smile.
"She planted so many sunflowers in the back garden.
When they started to grow, Dad used to joke that she was turning the garden into a jungle. "
I watch the smile fall from his face, and his eyes turn a dull shade of grey. "Max?" I question. "Are you okay?”
His eyes raise to mine and he nods. "Yeah, sorry."
"Sorry for what?" I query.
"For, I, erm..." He swallows and looks down at his tattoos. "I'm not sure what I’m sorry for really. Getting a little lost in my thoughts, I guess.”
“I hadn't realised that it was going to be so personal to you," I tell him.
He shakes his head and reaches for me, his hand gripping the back of my neck and pulling me toward him, our faces inches apart.
"I love that you’re interested, that you want to know.
" He takes a deep breath, then places a small kiss on my lips before pulling back enough to see me.
"My mum died eleven years ago, when I was eighteen.
She was diagnosed with an aggressive form of ovarian cancer, and despite the efforts of the doctors, she was gone within two years of the diagnosis. "
I inhale a sharp breath, and my heart aches for him and his sister. I can't believe they lost their mum so young. "Max, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. That you and your sister had to go through it." I climb into his lap, my hands cupping either side of his face.
"Thanks, baby. Georgia was only twelve when Mum died, and I hate that she had to grow up without a female figure.
Sure, she had the women of the club, but it's not the same.
" His arms are wrapped around my waist, resting just above my hips as he holds me in place, and I feel them tighten as his eyes go wide.
"Shit, Dragonfly, I didn’t think, you know exactly how it feels. Fuck, I'm sorry."
Shaking my head at him, I rest my forehead on his. "Don't. You do not need to apologise. I love that you are so aware of how hard it was for your sister to grow up without a mum. But why do I feel like you dismiss your own feelings for everyone else’s?"
"I don't. I grieved for her. But I needed to be strong, I needed to hold it together for Georgia and my dad.
They both took it really hard. Mum was a big part of the club when she was alive, her and Dad were always here.
But when she died, he kind of distanced himself from this place.
It held too many memories for him," he tells me honestly.
"He rarely leaves the house. They bought it together, but because they were always here it doesn't have as many memories for him. "
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, and his eyes move over my face, taking in my features. He licks his lips as his eyes flick to mine, but as he raises them a smile graces his face. "I want you to meet him. Can I take you to see him?" he asks. Appearing a little nervous.
I nod and smile. "I'd like that," I tell him.
"I'll keep you safe, baby, we won't go unless I know it is, and we'll take a couple of the brothers with us," he rushes out.
I lean forward and kiss him, our lips connect, and everything seems to fall away.
I push my tongue into his mouth, he doesn't fight me, and he doesn't try to take control.
He lets me lead. I've never done this before, but he gives me the courage to want to do it.
As the kiss gets heated, I run my hands up into his hair, gripping it in my fists and pulling it.
He lets out a groan and I smile around the kiss.
Needing air, I break away. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he takes. "What was that for?" he asks.
"I trust you, Max. I know you won't risk my safety."
He looks down at his watch and his eyebrows furrow. "Come on, we've been in here longer that we should have," he says, standing and lifting me with him.
"Oh, are we not meant to be in here?" I question.
"It's not that, baby. I should have mentioned it earlier, but Andrea is on her way. She'll be here in about an hour." He stops to look at me, gauging my reaction. But I just smile at him.
"Okay," I breathe. "Do we have time for a shower before she gets here?" I ask, hoping he picks up on my suggestion.
He just grins at me, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward his room.