Chapter 24 #2
“You have no faith in yourself because when you look in the mirror, you see your father. But I see you, Maxwell. Just you.” She rested a hand over his heart, wishing she could break through his pain and reach him.
“You would never have hurt me,” she said.
“I know that. I know you. It’s why I fell in love with you, even though I know you never wanted me to. ”
A pained expression crossed his face, too fast for her to reach, and his hand slid down her arm until he was clasping her hand, leading her toward the monstrosity in the middle of the room.
“It’s not finished,” he said as she looked at the lumpy creation.
Up close, it seemed even more strange to behold, but there was an odd charm to it, as well. And the shape became even more obvious—a head, shoulders, something that might have been arms. A person.
“What is it?”
He almost smiled. “Not what. Who. I tried to make you, Thalia. The way I see you. Only my ability does not in any way match my artistic vision.” His next expression was a grimace.
“I wanted to make this for you to show you that… I told you I didn’t love you, and I thought I meant it.
I wanted to mean it—for your sake, I thought it would be better if I always cared for you but never loved you. ”
Her heart was full, all the emotions of the past day crashing over her until she felt as though she might sink under the weight of them. Or perhaps float away because she suspected she knew what he would say next.
“But I was wrong, and I was a fool,” he continued.
“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I cared to admit.
I just never realized it.” He looked down at her, brows drawn, his mouth in a tight, hard line.
“I thought this was how every man felt about his wife; I thought I cared for you, but it hadn’t gotten too far.
But I was wrong. I’ve loved you since the moment you claimed this room for your own. ”
He looked around, and she tried to see it as he did: a place of memories, and poor ones at that, supplanted with new memories of her. They sculpted together.
Her creations, left to dry, lined the walls. He had not touched or damaged them in any way.
“I think I knew then,” he continued when she said nothing, her chest too full.
But her eyes filled with tears that trickled down her cheeks.
“But I was too afraid to admit it. It was only when Joyce spoke to me about how attached I clearly was to you that I started to have doubts about what this would mean for us.”
“It would just have meant that we would have lived our lives,” she said finally, her voice thick. “It would have meant nothing bad at all.”
“I think I understand that now. And I’m sorry.
” He tilted her chin so she could look at him, his eyes dark and full of regret.
“I am so sorry for hurting you, Thalia. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I was in love with you, and that I am in charge of whether I’m a danger to you.
” He slid his hand along her cheek, tracing her jawline.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Can you forgive me?”
“Oh, Maxwell.” She reached for him, mindful of the bruises on his face, and pressed her mouth against his. She felt as though she was shaking. She certainly was—but she kissed him with all the fervor the last few days had given her. “I missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Coming back to that empty house was hell.” He steadied himself, moving so he was braced against the wall. “It’s why I stayed away so much.”
“I’m sorry for leaving,” she whispered.
“And I’m sorry for making you feel as though you had no place in my life.”
“I’ve already forgiven you. Having you love me is enough.” She smiled against his mouth as he bent to kiss her again but didn’t allow herself to be sucked into him. “But you need a physician, Maxwell. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Max—”
“Stay with me.” His hands gripped her hips, holding her against him, and showcasing precisely how much he wanted her there. “Please, my love. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Calling for a physician would hardly be losing me.”
A dark, possessive light burned in his eyes. “I’ve been days without you, Thalia. I’m not done with you yet.”
Heat immediately sank between her legs. The idea of him wanting her like this, even when he was in pain, was so arousing she could hardly think past it.
“Are you sure? If it hurts you—”
He leaned down and bit her earlobe. “I can endure a little pain, Thalia.”
Well, there was no point arguing with him. Not when she wanted this too, and he sounded so very certain. It had been too long.
“I will, however,” he said, sliding a hand to her rear and squeezing, “require you to do a lot of the work.”
She bit back a smile. “How do you want me?”
“Right here.” He kissed her again, his mouth hot and possessive. “Right now. Like this.” He spun her around, so her palms pressed against the wall. Then he dropped down behind her, pushing up her skirts. Thalia caught her breath as his fingers slid against bare skin.
This desire between them had always been uncomplicated. Whatever else they felt, they had always wanted one another. And after so long left wanting, she couldn’t bear to wait any longer.
His fingers found the slickness between her legs, and he made a growling sound of approval. “You’re so wet for me already.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Do you like it when I touch you here?”
She moaned as he dipped the tip of one finger inside her. She clenched around nothing.
“Tell me, Thalia,” she said.
She gasped. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I like it. So much.”
“Good girl.” He lightly slapped the globe of one buttock, and the sting made her squeeze again.
Every time they came together, it felt as though he changed her in some undefinable way. She had never known lust until it came with Maxwell’s name and face.
He licked her there, and her legs buckled.
“Don’t fall,” he commanded, and she braced her knees, resting her forehead against the wall.
Any time she worked here now, she would think of this moment, the way he ravished her against the wall after they’d spent so long apart.
No doubt it would affect her art.
She didn’t mind it.
The world knew now she was Rossi. Let them see her pieces and know that they were influenced by her life with her husband. Let him be her inspiration.
Her climax came over her so quickly it took her by surprise, and she moaned into the fleshy part of her hand, trying to hold back. This was all happening too fast; she wanted to savor it.
He laughed against her, the vibration against the little bundle of nerves almost sending her over the edge. “Are you holding back, love?”
“I just don’t want—” She had to concentrate on every word. “I don’t want this to end too soon.”
“I’ll decide when it ends.” He pushed a possessive finger inside her, and she widened her legs to offer him better access. “Now come for me.”
She couldn’t have held back even if she wanted to.
Her body had more power than her mind, and he had pushed her beyond endurance.
Every muscle in her body tightened as she contracted around him, the climax blinding.
Maxwell had a supporting hand on her lower back as he licked and suckled her through it, that finger giving her something to squeeze.
When she finished, he gave her backside a kiss as he rose. She heard the way he hissed a breath as he rose, but she also knew he wouldn’t want her to move from her position unless he told her to.
And so, she remained in place, hands braced against the wall, her skirts bunched around her hips. Maxwell positioned himself behind her, his length hot against her skin as he slid it through her slickness, coating himself in her moisture.
Despite her recent climax, she was ready for more, and she moved against him, her breath coming in shuddering fits and starts.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice distracted as he finally positioned himself at her entrance.
“You are everything to me, Thalia. Perfection.” He filled her with a long stroke.
“I have spent every second we’ve been apart thinking about you.
” His hands landed on hers as his body boxed hers in.
He was so deep inside her, she saw stars.
“Dreaming of this. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do this? ”
Thalia couldn’t make much sound other than a moan. He demanded all her attention, overwhelmed her body so she could hardly breathe. So full, so perfectly full—he made her feel as though if she took too deep a breath, she might force him back out again.
He kissed the back of her neck as he withdrew and thrust back inside her.
Although he was big, she was so wet that he slid in easily.
She arched her back, tilting her hips, offering more of herself, wanting him deeper.
This was a primal urge for her to give herself over to him entirely so that he might possess her.
His fingers flexed over hers. “Thalia,” he growled, the sound of her name sending new heat prickling through her. “I love you.”
The declaration brought her to the edge with dizzying rapidity. He must have felt her body’s readiness, or perhaps he could just read the sound of her moans, because he slowed, his body trembling atop hers, holding her at the precipice.
“I said”—he punctuated each word with another stroke— “that I love you. What does that do to you, Thalia?”
She whimpered, her knees locked and trembling, holding herself in place by sheer force of will. “I’m going to…”
“Does it make you want to come?” His teeth scraped across her neck. “Then I’ll say it again. I love you, Thalia. I have for longer than I care to admit.”
As though he had demanded it, her body released the tension that had been building, and Maxwell groaned behind her as she fell apart.
He slowed, drawing out her climax as the seconds spiraled and melded together, until she sagged against the wall.
Any second now, her legs would give way underneath her.
Maxwell bent and kissed her neck, then withdrew, surprising her. He turned her, took her hand, and guided her to the floor, lying on his back and positioning her over him.
“I want to watch you,” he said, motioning her to slide on top of him.
She did. Grit from the floorboards dusted her knees.
His terrible clay creation stood to one side of them, in the house that they lived in together, and she thought she would never be happier in this moment.
They were raw, still molding and shifting, but this pleasure would stay.
There was nothing but warmth and heat and softness in his eyes, and he loved her.
There was nothing else she needed from life.
His hands came to grip her hips, but he let her choose the rhythm and speed. Though she could see the tension building in his body, she moved slowly, grinding atop him, careful to lean her hands against the floor rather than against his chest.
And while she knew he wanted nothing more than to press into her, he held back, giving her the space to guide them both toward that final destination.
True to his words, he didn’t look away from her as finally pleasure overcame him and he spilled into her on the floor of her art studio.