Chapter 12 – MAKSIM
Twelve
MAKSIM
Tonight took a turn I didn’t see coming.
Valentina shows up at my door unannounced after nearly getting trampled and somehow catches me eating her favorite cereal. I don’t even know why I bought the damn stuff. I was at the store, walked past the aisle, and thought of her. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
And now she’s sitting on my sofa, wiping tears from her eyes because of me. Because she feels something for the fucked-up parts of my past.
Her empathy is a strange kind of torture. It’s warmth where I don’t deserve it and light breaking through places I thought were dead. I should look away, take her home. Remind myself that she’s better off without the darkness that comes with me.
But instead, I watch her. The way her hands tremble as she drags them across her cheeks. The way her lips part like she’s about to speak, but can’t find the right words.
She’s too close.
Or maybe not close enough.
I pour myself a drink to take the edge off.
“Truth or Dare, Valentina,” I say, causing her head to whip toward me.
“It’s okay…we don’t have to—.”
“Pick one, before I choose for you.” My voice leaves no room for softness, no trace of the man who comforted her, who remembered the little girl beaming after her first kip.
Still, she answers, her expression serious, even as her eyes betray the act, revealing everything she’s trying so damn hard to hide.
“Dare,” she says, harshly wiping the last streak of moisture from her cheek.
Good. We’ve shared enough for one night.
“Show me something,” I tell her. “A trick you can still do, even after all these years.”
She smirks. “What makes you think I can’t still do all of them? Are you calling me old, old man?”
I bark out a laugh. “Ouch.”
“But…I think you’re forgetting one tiny detail,” she says, gesturing toward her cast.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Valentina rises, standing in front of the coffee table. “How sturdy is this wood? Think it’ll hold me?”
“Yeah—why?”
She shrugs off her jacket, eyes glinting as she turns. “Making sure I win.”
My gaze drops before I can stop it, drawn to her ass in those black leggings as she bends and spreads her stance. Blood surges to my cock.
Fuuuuck.
Bracing her hands on the table, she leans forward, shifting her weight until her feet lift from the floor, body perfectly aligned, her muscles taut. She holds there, suspended, her sweet little cunt just inches away, testing every shred of my restraint.
This is Valentina.
I remind myself like a warning.
Then, with deliberate grace, she lifts her legs until they meet, her body perfectly inverted in front of me. Her head tips just enough for her eyes to catch mine between her arms. And a wicked, knowing grin curves her lips.
It’s the single sexiest goddamn thing I’ve seen in a long time.
“Looks like I still got it,” she says, lowering herself with the same fluidity, “broken leg and all.”
“That was—impressive.”
She smirks, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Party trick.”
Party trick.
My jaw tightens, and all I can picture is her surrounded by drunk college idiots, showing off that same move while their eyes crawl over her. Just like mine.
She graduated last year, from what I know. Not that it makes the image any easier to swallow.
Without giving me a moment to recover, Valentina crosses her arms. “Truth or Dare?”
“Dare,” I answer without hesitation.
Her smile widens, eyes dark with mischief. In that instant, I know I’m fucked whether I win or lose.
“The speakers,” she says, nodding toward the corner, “Bluetooth?”
I nod once. She extends her hand, motioning to my phone on the coffee table. I hand it to her, already knowing I’m going to regret it.
Seconds later, a filthy bassline floods the room, and her hips start to move.
“Dance with me.”
Win or lose.
“I don’t dance.” I tip my head back and drain the last of my drink.
“You do now. Rules are rules, Maxy. You can’t back out.”
She grabs a fistful of my shirt and tugs until I give in and stand.
“Fine,” I murmur, my mouth brushing her ear as my hands slide to her hips, pulling her against me. “Then dance for me, Valentina. Show me how you move.”
Her sharp inhale trembles through us both as the space between us vanishes.
She rolls her hips, and I match her rhythm, letting the music move through us.
“I’ll give you this,” she teases breathlessly. “You’re not terrible at it.”
Another slow grind of her hips against my hard cock.
“Dancing’s the last thing on my mind right now.”
Valentina turns, pressing her back to my chest, fingers sliding into my hair, nails scraping the base of my neck. Her ass moves against me in a steady, torturous rhythm.
“Tell me then…” Her voice is a whisper meant to ruin me, I just know it. “What is on your mind?”
If she knew.
If she could see the things running through my head, the ways I want to bend, taste, and completely undo her, she’d stop pretending this is just a little game.
Because there’s no coming back from where we’re going.
The only way off this ledge is down.
I spin her around, my hand finding her throat, eyes locking on hers. No words, just breath, tension, and need. I press her close, letting her feel every brush, every heartbeat, every strained thread of control ready to snap. Showing her exactly what she does to me.
But when Valentina closes her eyes, my name escaping her lips in a broken whimper, the cord holding me together gives way.
My grip tightens at her throat as I lean in, voice rough against her ear.
“You need to go home. Now.”