Chapter 29 Keep that breathless charm #2
"He's a romantic and has never been able to see past Shoshanna."
I lean across the table. "Who is Shoshanna?"
Her mouth drops open. "You don’t know about Shosh?"
Max clears his throat and his shadow is suddenly blanketing us. "Shosh is my brother's business. And you, Little One, owe me a dance."
I look up and scrutinise him, searching for something that would tell me what he'd been doing... Like blood. But the dark colours he's wearing camouflage any trace of an altercation.
Smiling, he offers me his hand. When I take it, he pulls me to my feet, bands an arm around my middle, and lifts me onto my tippy toes. I kiss him deeply.
Then we walk onto the dance floor. As the music turns slow and romantic, I envelop his waist with my arms, cuddling him as we sway.
"What did you just do?" I ask as I listen to his heart beating on the other side of my ear.
He holds me to him, both arms around my shoulders, a hand stroking the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair. "Remember that picture of us on Twitter?"
"How could I forget?" I say, breathing slow and heavy in rhythm with his heartbeat. "My brother had a nervous breakdown."
"Remember some of the comments? Specifically, the ones about you and other guys?"
I exhale in a rush. "Yes."
"I've been making sure that they don't do that again."
"Max." I blink into his shirt. "You said to forget about it."
"No. I said for you to forget about it. I took care of it. Did you honestly think I'd let some random guys say the things they said and not have words with them?"
I have no answer to that question, but I'm suddenly reminded of the random text messages I'd received. It's probably not a good idea to ever tell Max...
Sighing against him, I listen as the jazz band plays a smooth tune and the blonde girl on stage sings about Chicago in the fall.
Her voice is sweet and melodic. A perfect match to this fairy-tale setting.
Even after we'd made our relationship official, I'd never imagined moments like this.
In the open. For all eyes to see. I'd accepted a kind of hidden, secret love affair with Max Butcher. This is so, so much better.
"Have you had other girls tell you they love you?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. How could they not?
I feel his sigh through his chest. "Yes"
"And did you ever tell them you loved them back?"
His fingers tighten in my hair slightly. "What are you doing, Little One? Don't you think if I had, you would have heard it as well?"
"No." I squeeze his waist. "I don't know.
"Look at my actions, Little One. I'm telling you every fucking day how I feel with my actions."
Shaking my head against his chest, I grow disappointed in myself for bringing this up now. After what Nina said about Bronson, I suppose I just want to hear Max say he returns my feelings. I want him to say he loves me. "Does it mean anything to you that I love you?
"Of course it does." He holds me away from him, cradling my head with his hands. Lifting my chin, he looks into my eyes. "It means everything to me. Why are you asking me this shit?"
"But you've heard it before," I say.
He smiles as if that is the stupidest thing I've ever said. Shaking his head, he pulls me back into his chest and sways with me. "From girls who don't know me. They love it when I'm inside them. They love my cock, not me."
"You express a lot when you're making love, Max. I feel sick when I think about you with other girls," I say as I cuddle him tighter.
"They never meant anything. And I definitely didn’t make love to them."
"You still gave a piece of yourself to them," I say. Those words alone make me feel ill, but he doesn’t seem to understand. "Don't you see that? Don't you see me? Don't you see me when we make love?"
I feel the rumble of his growl. "Yes, I see you. But I'm looking."
"They do too. They see you. What if you weren't my first? This other person would have seen me like that. Wouldn't that bother you?"
His back gets very tight beneath my fingers. "Come here," he whispers and entwines our fingers. He pulls me toward the door he'd entered earlier. The door shuts behind us and it must be soundproof because I can't hear the girl singing anymore.
Curious, I look down the hall. A rich-red carpet leads to an ominous door. Mirrors hang on the walls. Max directs my gaze back to him as he presses me into the wall.
He lifts my chin, his eyes dilating as they fix on me. "What do you want from me? I can't not have sex with all those girls. It's done."
"I know."
"So, what do you want?"
"I just want..."
"Let's get really serious, Little One. That's really what you want, isn't it?
This is how I feel." He points at the door.
"Out there you're Cassidy Slater. Ballerina.
You're a fucking angel." Both of his palms press onto the wall on either side of my head.
"But with me, you're my Cassidy Slater. You do all the things you won't speak aloud.
You let me use your sweet little body for my dirty pleasure.
And the other night, you fucked me, Cassidy.
" His hands flex on the wall as his lips meet my ear and I nearly stop breathing.
"It does things to me, thinking about you being that Cassidy with someone else.
I'm the only guy to taste you. To make you come.
I filled you the other night and it felt like a goddamn religious experience.
I may not tell you I love you, but I'm a scary kind of possessive over you, Cassidy.
So do us both a favour and don't ask me how I'd feel if you were with another guy unless you want me to lose my fucking mind. "
And my breath leaves me in a rush.
Cupping his cheeks, I pull him close for a quick, soft kiss. "I'm sorry. I was unfair." We breathe slowly together. "I just wanted to hear you say the words. That's all."
He moves into my caress, tight-faced, teeth grinding. "It's not that—"
"You've said everything I need to hear. Keep telling me through your actions, Max."
Suddenly frowning, Max turns his head towards the door at the end of the hallway. I look over to see Jimmy standing with his arms wide and welcoming.
"Cassidy," he coos. "What a lovely sight you are. Max, you've been keeping her from us."
Max stands up straight. "I'm not taking her back there."
"No, of course not," Jimmy states, appearing confused by Max's tone. "It's not suitable for your bedda girlfriend. But you have to bring her tomorrow night. You have told her about the auction, se?"
Max shakes his head. "She's busy."
"Oh, Max. No." He walks towards us, his black coat swaying, the harness underneath peeking out slightly—purposefully. "I have the perfect piece for her to showcase. You know the one with the half-carat Diamante rosa? Se. Bring her? Piffavuriii? Who could resist it after seeing it around her neck?"
I study Max's stern expression as he says, "She's busy, Jimmy."
My feigned smile widens and I bat my lashes at Jimmy sweetly. "I have a family dinner," I lie.
He claps his hands together in front of him. "Nun m’anteressa. I really must insist."