Chapter 4 I’ll fuck you on this slide #2
"Who the hell do you think you are?" I shuffle on the slide and try to squeeze past him, but it's an attempt to no avail. "Get out of my way, Max."
He stands staunchly. "I saw your peep show, Little One. You were seconds away from crawling onto his lap. No wonder he took you back here."
My breathing becomes shallow. "You were watching me?"
"Half the fucking District was watching you spread your legs for him."
"I was dancing. Not spreading my legs for him! Why are you so mad at me?"
He glares down at me over a tight jaw. "Do you know how easy it would have been for him to rape you back here?"
"He wasn't going to do anything to me, Max. He's a cop."
"Then tell me this" – he leans towards me – "if he wasn't going to do anything, why did he take you back here? Why didn't he just kiss you on the hill?"
Swallowing hard, I reach for an answer to that question, but come back empty. "I'm safe," I whisper. "I'm here with Toni."
"Yeah?" He looks around the dark, derelict water slides. "Where. The fuck. Is Toni?"
I glance at the ground between his feet. "I don't know."
"Are you fucking stupid?" he scolds. "Are you in heat or something?"
I feel both the sting of his words and my welling tears.
As he glares down at me as if I'm some naive idiot, too many feelings swarm around inside me—most of them completely contradictory.
There is this skip in my heart that inadvertently relishes his attention, concern, and what looks and sounds a lot like protectiveness.
But the weight in my belly churns because I was alone in the dark with a stranger.
That's true. I still don't believe Luke would have done anything, but I don't know for sure, do I?
"You're being a jerk again," I say.
He shakes his head. "I don’t like it."
"I was just kissing him."
His body makes a shadow over mine. "I. Don’t. Like it," he states, and I flinch even though his words were spoken softly. "Does Flick know her little sister strips off for guys and disappears into dark corners with them?"
I stare up at him. "Flick would encourage me to express myself. I don’t do it enough."
"Express yourself?" He near snaps the words. "Express yourself all over his fingers."
"Max. Stop it."
"Is this what you want? To give up your virginity to a stranger outside a waterpark?"
My eyes widen. "How did you know I was a—"
"It hurts." The words come out through a growl. "The first time can hurt. It isn’t meant to be done like thi—"
Anger bites at the heels of humiliation. "Excuse me! I don't want to discuss my virginity with you, Max Butcher. It’s none of your business. And as if you care about my virginity. As if you care about any girl's virginity. It's not a prize, right?"
He fixes his eyes shut, making no noise or movement for a few seconds. His eyes open and find mine again. "Who said it wasn't a prize?"
"I don't know. Everyone in my life? It's the norm. Toni. My brother, who's had more girls than I can count. Flick. Guys like you who treat sex like it's as casual as eating breakfast. Guys who think having a girlfriend is the worst thing in life. Worse than polio!"
"That's what this is about? You're that desperate to get fucked?
Fine! Get in my car right now. I'll fuck you.
" His tone is harsh and authoritarian, making me recoil. Heat prickles the backs of my eyes. He growls when I don’t instantly move.
"Okay then!" He unzips his jeans, pins my legs apart, and grasps my upper arms, handling me roughly as he forces me to stare at him.
"Want me to fuck you right here on this slide? "
I tug my arm from him and cover my face with it, trying desperately to smother the sobs building in my throat. I've lost my fight against him. Lost my resolve. "Shut up!" In an instant, the tears start to flow, and I hold myself tight.
Through my pooling eyes, I see something like regret flash across his face, but it's gone so quickly I could have imagined it. He fastens his jeans, pulls me up by the elbow and drags me over to his car.
His black four-wheel-drive is parked not far from the grass hill Luke and I were sitting on less than half an hour ago.
He lifts me into the passenger seat and leans across me to buckle my belt, a semblance of urgency to his movements.
I'm rendered speechless, wanting to scold him, reason with him, and ask him to forgive me, all at the same time.
What?
Forgive me for what? Kissing a boy? Getting myself into a position in which he felt I needed rescuing? The door slams shut. I stare at my bare feet as he climbs in behind the wheel and sets off down the road at an aggressive pace. A heavy bass vibrates under me.
Frick, my heels.
"My heels," I mutter.
He points to the backseat, and I twist to see my black Steve Madden stilettos lying there.
I blink and turn back to watch the dark road as it rushes under us.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Max scowling straight ahead.
He thinks I'm some kind of naive idiot. It was nice to feel wanted.
Sexy. That's all. And this all started because of him, because of my attraction to him.
Next time I have a crush on a boy, I should just tape my mouth and vagina shut. Call it a day.
"He's a cop, Max," I say. He doesn't respond, just stares unwaveringly at the road. "He wouldn’t have hurt me." His hands tighten around the steering wheel. "You could get into heaps of trouble for hitting a cop." He presses the volume button and turns the beat up until it drowns out my voice.
Giving up, my eyes move to the little tree hanging in the centre of the windscreen. The plastic packaging hangs half off, preserving the scent inside. His car feels new. Leather seats. Digital display. It smells new.
I'm in Max's car.
Is he taking me to his house? I swallow hard at the thought of him pulling me into his room and teaching me a lesson about men. I squeeze my thighs together. As much as I want Max, I don't want him in this headspace. He's... intimidating.
"I don’t want to do anything," I whisper, but he can't hear me over the music. "I don't want to do anything!" I yell. Max's hand is on the volume button in seconds, lowering the beat until I can hear my own breaths of courage.
"Say that again," he says, his voice salacious as if he's trying to get me to understand something.
I swallow past the tone and how it makes me feel. "I don't want to do anything. I didn't want to do anything with Luke either. Things just got out of control."
The tension in his face softens. "We're not going to, Little One. We're just going to sleep."
This time when he says 'Little One', my heart races and an uncomfortable level of arousal spikes inside me.
I move my knee to the side and stare at his profile. His mouth is in a tight line. He grips the wheel firmly and his biceps bulge, stretching the sleeves of his shirt. He's too hot. He should come with a warning label. "Are you taking me home?"
He offers me a quick glance. "I won't be able to sleep tonight unless I know you’re next to me." Every part of my body feels those words, including parts I didn’t know could respond to words alone. My heart is beating so fast it threatens to jump right out of my chest. That’s the single, most intimate thing any guy has ever said to me.
And if it wasn't obvious before, it is now.
I'm brandishing that goofy grin because Max Butcher cares about me—even if only a little.
I should still be angry with him.
But I'm not.
I'm becoming one of those girls I have always pitied.
When he pulls onto my street and turns down my driveway, I feel disappointment curdle in my belly. Why are we at my house? Does this mean he doesn’t want to sleep next to me tonight? Was that just a fleeting moment of something growing between us? Now over? God, he's giving me whiplash.
Without a word, he switches the headlights off as we approach the front porch, perhaps trying not to wake my family. He drives the car out the back and up onto the grass beside my studio.
My brows pinch tightly together. "I don't understand."
He switches the ignition off and looks at me sternly. "Go upstairs."
"But I thought—”
"Go upstairs," he orders. "Do you want me to meet you up there?"
My breath lodges in my throat, but I manage to whisper, "Yes."
"I need to hear you say it." He stares down at me, locking his eyes on my mouth. "Say, Max, I want you to sleep next to me tonight."
"Max, I want you to sleep next to me tonight." The words are uttered softly, because I'm completely breathless. His eyes are still focused on my lips, making my pulse drum in my skull.
"Good." He nods towards the house. "Go upstairs. I'll meet you up there."
I climb out of the car and race towards the house. I can feel his eyes on me. Once I'm inside, I sneak up the stairs and into my room. Shutting my door softly behind me, I press my back to it and stand like a statue for a few moments, trying to catch my breath.
Max Butcher is going to sleep in my room tonight.
Oh my God!
Rushing into the ensuite, I quickly throw water on my face and brush my teeth like a machine.
I run around my room, grabbing clothes, and then change into my pyjama shorts and tank top.
My reflection catches my eye and I stare at myself.
My cheeks are flushed and my hair is messy around my shoulders.
A sudden knock at my window draws my attention, and oh my God, Max is at the window. He must have climbed up the lattice.
I stare at him for a moment, the magnitude of this moment settling inside me. First, I kiss Luke. Max acts like a damn caveman, and now he's here. Should I be nervous? Not excited-nervous, but fearful nervous?
He frowns at me through the glass. "Open up."
Walking over to the window, I slide it open. As he pushes the screen in and climbs through with little exertion, I step back.
And now he's standing in front of me, in my room and intimidating as hell. I crane my neck to watch him take in my most personal space. He looks out of place amongst the white furniture and overly feminine décor. This feels strangely intimate. I think he almost grins.
He peers down at me and lifts a hand to my face, brushing one of my blonde waves over my shoulder. My eyelids grow heavy as his warm knuckles stroke my cheek.
"Go to sleep," he states, but it isn't a suggestion.
I crawl into bed as he kicks off his shoes. Under the false sense of safety the sheets give me, I watch him pull his shirt off and unbutton his jeans before sliding them down his legs. I gasp. He is so fricking beautiful.
He leaves his clothes sprawled out across the carpet, and they improve the space—a lot. I like them there.
He walks towards me in white boxer shorts that leave very little to the imagination; the form of his penis beneath them is a large bulge that moves under its own weight.
Muscles cut up his physique, creating definition on every inch of skin.
The sight of him is uncomfortable. It's hot tingles.
An uneven heart rate. It's breathlessness.
I scoot over and he slides in beside me.
As he lies on his back, frowning at the ceiling, I stare at his profile.
"I thought you were going to take me to your house," I admit, resting my face on my hands and trying to pretend I'm unaffected by his presence.
You're failing, Cassidy.
"So did I." He pauses for a moment with his thoughts. "It's not a good idea."
"I seem to hear that a lot from you."
"That's because when it comes to you, it's true."
"I don't get it. You seem to like me." I search his face for emotion and feel a spike of panic when he doesn't respond. The silence between us is crushing me. "Well, at least I think you do." He clenches his jaw. "What are you thinking about, Max?" I press.
He exhales. "I'm thinking about that fucking sound." He looks at me and his eyes thin. "The one you made when he had his cock pressed between your thighs. And I'm thinking about how he's probably thinking about it too while he rubs one out."
I breathe out fast. "Max."
"Should've broken his hands."