Chapter 26 Ice bath
Ice bath
It’s Wednesday night and my toes and left ankle are in agony from training.
I've been overdoing it. The bathtub slowly fills with cold water.
The last bag of ice is poured in and it no longer splashes the water, but now settles atop the other cubes.
It's been a few weeks since I've had an ice bath, but after today, I feel my body needs it.
It's called cold therapy and ever since the first time I'd tried it, after I'd injured my right ankle, I've used it to help with circulation and inflammation.
I stare at the cubes and channel my mind to focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.
Gripping the tub on either side, I slide into the freezing cold water.
My breath becomes fitful as the cold consumes my senses and wipes away every other thought.
I know that all I have to do is channel my attention through the first sixty seconds and then my body will become accustomed to the freezing temperature and my skin will no longer burn.
My phone buzzes on the floor beside me. Luckily the universe has given me a little distraction from the cold.
I reach for it and stare at the screen, suddenly reminded of a week ago when I'd received their first text.
I'd completely forgotten about it. I thought it was Max, but now I know he doesn’t have a phone.
Unknown number: I wish I could suck on your tongue.
My fingers type frantically across the display: Not interested, who are you? Seriously get lost. My heart beats an erratic cadence. Staring at the text, I decide not to press enter. Nothing is the best response for now. Perhaps whoever it is will lose interest.
Focusing on my breathing, I drop my phone to the floor. When I hear a knock at the door, I'm still panting.
"Cassidy? You okay?" My dad's voice comes through the door.
"Yeah. I'm just having an ice bath. I'm not dying." I laugh breathlessly.
"You have a visitor."
It's Toni.
There is no way in hell I'm getting out of this bath and braving the first sixty seconds again. "Okay. I'll be out in about ten minutes. Entertain him for me or just send him up."
There is a pause and then, "Okay, baby."
After ten minutes in the bath, my pulse has gone from frantic to steady.
When I step out, I wrap a towel around me, no longer feeling cold at all.
As always, after ice therapy, I feel euphoric.
The twinge in my left ankle is much better.
It can nearly bare my full weight again.
I don't let it, though. I'll hobble tonight and let it rest while I'm in bed.
Tomorrow I'll use it cautiously. Dressing in a thigh-length pink silk robe and white knickers, I hobble down the stairs.
My feet stumble when I see Max and my dad talking in the living room.
Unable to stop smiling, I cover my mouth with my palm instead.
I do a little happy dance on the step. Will I ever be cool?
Nope.
I backtrack up the stairs and try to eavesdrop, but I can't make out words, only the tones.
.. They are friendly. Chatty. I smooth my hair out, pinch my cheeks, and squat, so I can peer around the wall and observe Max from a distance.
He's on the couch, leaning back with his ankle resting on his knee, completely comfortable in my house.
He's smiling. My tongue lathers my lower lip while I enjoy the perfection of him like a naughty voyeur.
He's beautiful. My dad might have a heart attack when he sees me greet Max in only my robe, but the idea fills me to the brink with excitement.
Act cool.
I take a few steps down and they both focus on me. My eyes anchor on Max as he smirks, dropping his gaze over my body. I bite my lower lip, catching my wide smile in my teeth. I want to run into his arms and kiss him feverishly, but I restrain myself.
My heart pirouettes. "Hi, Max."
"Hey, Little One."
Dad smiles tightly and wanders toward me, planting a little kiss on my cheek. "I'm going to bed. Cassidy, maybe put something more appropriate on for the drive."
The drive?
I blink at Max, who is looking smug. "Okay," I murmur.
Dad disappears up the stairs, surprising me. I'm his youngest child. His baby girl. Why is he allowing me to leave at this time of night and go... where?
Max gradually stands and moves toward me. His throat pulses as he meets me at the stairs and for the first time, we're the same height. He takes me all in for a moment, in no hurry to stop his gaze from stripping me bare. "You're staying at my house tonight."
A smile takes over my face. "Okay."
He chuckles once. "You don't hide anything, do you?"
"I try. I'm just not very good at it."
As I rub my hands down the hard grooves of his chest, his muscles twitch beneath my fingertips.
I can feel the breath from his lips, the hot sweetness beckoning mine towards them.
My skin is suddenly humming with desperation.
Desperate to be touched. Desperate to be taken.
We stare at each other, eyes heated. My hands find their way into his hair and then suddenly his lips are on mine.
His hands are gripping my arse. My legs are around his waist.
The cotton of my knickers presses against his abdomen as he carries me effortlessly up the stairs and into my room.
This is a different experience altogether. Here I am, in my house, Konnor and Blesk asleep in the room beside mine. But we are still us, Max and me. When we are together, it's like the rest of the world fades away.
Every cell in my body is on fire as his kiss consumes me. The door opens and shuts behind us.
He crawls onto the bed with me, caging me beneath his hot, heavy, needy body. My limbs open to accommodate his breadth. I cry out when he slaps my thigh on a growl. He worships my leg, running his hand down to my calf and up to the soft inner flesh of my thigh.
"You have the sexiest legs," he groans between kisses. "I need to taste you."
Nipping and licking his way down to the little divot between my collar bones, he tongues it suggestively. I squeeze my eyes shut, his mouth overwhelming me. I let out a long, needy moan, thrust my pelvis up into his abdomen, and rub myself on him shamelessly.
He stops suddenly at my chest and raises a hand to my mouth. "Shh." He shuffles back up and presses his forehead to mine before looking at me and loosening his grip around my mouth.
My lips part immediately as I breathe hard. "Sorry."
He seems to be gathering his own composure.
"Don't ever apologise for those beautiful noises.
Just go pack a bag now." I slide out from under him slowly, noting the big, defined bulge between his thighs.
I smile, loving that I affect him just as strongly as he does me.
The urge to climb onto his lap is only held back by my curiosity of seeing his place.
.. Of course, knowing that once we're there, we'll have all night to continue what we started helps me do as I'm told.
While I'm riffling around trying to find my black yoga pants and favourite pink tee-shirt, Max wanders into my ensuite bathroom.
I'm debating what panties to grab, knowing quite well they'll be seen and touched and taken off by Max Butcher, when he strides out of the ensuite, the door slamming behind him.
Taken aback by the noise, I spin to face him.
He looks at me, but his eyes are unreadable. "Are you injured?" he asks tightly.
My mind shuffles information around in confusion for a few moments before realisation dawns. "Oh, the ice bath. No. Well, a little. I hurt my ankle today."
He mashes his teeth together, blinking unnaturally fast. "Just your ankle?"
I shift my gaze around. "Yeah."
"Why the whole bath?"
"I don't know," I say, taking a little step towards him. "I've always done it that way. It’s good for you."
"Who told you that?" he bites out.
"Google?" It comes out sounding like a question in my confusion. "What's wrong?"
He shakes his head, frowning into space. "Nothing. Get your shit and let's go."
I reach for him, touching his tense cheeks and massaging the lines fixed between his brows. "No, Max. What's this change in mood all about?"
"It's nothing. Forget about it."
"I think it's something."
Sighing, his eyes shut for a split second. "I got knocked around a bit when I was a kid." His gaze finds me again. "Ice baths just remind me of a time I'd rather forget."
I wonder who knocked him around. Does he mean fights at school?
No, knocked around implies someone bigger and stronger had hurt him.
God, he means his mother. A heavy weight settles in my belly, making me want to clutch at it.
Claw it out. I hate her. Flashes of him and his brothers as children, beaten and soaking in ice baths, invade my mind, and I can't breathe until they disappear.
I shake them away. All of a sudden, I feel as though I'm deceiving him by not telling him I know.
"Who knocked you around?" I find myself asking only to wish I didn't. As I study his tight forehead and pursed lips, my heart aches something awful. "You don't have to tell—"
"My," he chokes on the word. "Mother. Victoria.
She liked to take out her frustrations with Butch on us whenever he fucked around.
As time went by, I think she started to enjoy hurting us.
I think it became a kind of addiction. She has no power and is surrounded by powerful men. It's not an excuse, just a reason."
"Max."
"It's okay." He brushes his fingers through my hair, staring at the strands. "She doesn't hurt us anymore. Can't."
"I saw you at my party," I admit, hesitating before adding, "With her."
His eyes are still glued on my hair tangled in his fingers. "I know."
"What did she want?"
His gaze meets mine. "Xander stole her phone, trying to get her attention, but attention from that woman isn't a good thing, so I'd just said it was me."
"Why didn't you tell your dad what was going on?"