41. Sophie #2
Max comes down a few minutes later, hair still wet, in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, and I have to take a drink of wine to keep from staring.
The t-shirt stretches across his chest and the sweatpants sit low on his hips and I can see the V of muscle disappearing below the waistband, and my brain immediately supplies the memory of his fingers inside me, and heat floods my entire body.
He crosses the kitchen and kisses the top of my head like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I want to press my face into his chest and stay there.
Normal. Normal. Normal.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly.
“Good.” Distracted. Turned on. Falling apart.
“Dinner won’t be ready for a while,” Finn says from the stove. “Show her the house, Max. I’ll yell when it’s ready.”
Max looks at me. “Want to see the rest of the house?”
A tour. Yes. Walking. Moving. Something to do with my body that isn’t throwing myself at him. “Sure.”
He leads me out of the kitchen, and I follow him down the hallway past the living room—I don’t look at the couch, I do not look at the couch—and through a set of glass doors into the back of the house.
The gym is first. Mats, free weights, a squat rack against the far wall, a punching bag in the corner with tape on the chains. I picture Max in here, shirtless, the muscles in his back working as he hits the bag, and my mouth goes dry.
“I usually train in here in the mornings,” he says. “Finn prefers to work out after work. Ethan prefers the pool—I’ll show you that later.”
I nod. Say something. Don’t just stand here picturing him shirtless.
“This is nice,” I manage.
He shows me the sauna next—cedar-paneled, with two tiers of wide benches and room enough for ten people. Max holds the door open for me and his arm brushes mine and I feel it everywhere.
“We use it after training,” he says.
I nod and keep walking before I do something stupid.
He leads me down a corridor toward the back of the house, past a utility room and a linen closet. The corridor ends at a heavy glass door, and Max pushes it open.
The pool room opens up in front of me and I stop in the doorway.
The water casts gold patterns across the ceiling.
The pool is long and narrow, the water still and glowing a deep turquoise, and the air is thick and warm, wrapping around my skin.
On the far wall there’s a full-length mirror that runs the entire length of the room.
“Max,” I breathe. “This is incredible.”
I see us in it. Max standing behind me, both of us reflected in the mirror.
Him tall and broad in his black t-shirt, the fabric stretched across his shoulders, the veins in his forearms visible even in the low light.
Me smaller, dark-haired, my cheeks flushed, my eyes too bright.
I look like a woman on the edge of something.
“We built this for Ethan, originally,” Max says. “He prefers swimming to the gym. But we all use it. I prefer the river, but—” He stops. His gaze catches on my reflection and drops, slow and helpless, over my body. The hunger in his face makes my skin prickle and my stomach clench.
“Max,” I say softly, still looking at him in the mirror.
His whole body goes taut and his chest rises and falls faster.
“I have to keep talking, Sophie.” His voice is strained.
“Why?”
“Because if I stop talking, I’ll start thinking.” He swallows hard. “And if I start thinking about what I want to do to you right now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
The words land in the pit of my stomach like a lit match and the heat spreads outward—through my chest, my thighs, settling between my legs where I’m already aching.
I turn around. He’s right there and I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
His green eyes are dark and he’s close enough that the heat comes off his body in waves.
I step closer and put my hand flat on his chest. Under my palm, his heart is slamming. His pupils dilate at the contact and his hands stay clenched at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back from touching me.
“You feel it too,” I say softly. “That pull.”
“Sophie.” His voice is raw, wrecked. “I’ve felt it since the moment you set foot in Synthera.
Since the day I kissed you against the wall in my office and nearly fucked you—something I would’ve never done before I met you.
” His hand comes up and covers mine on his chest, pressing it harder against his heart, and I can feel every beat of it pounding into my palm.
“Yes. I feel it too. Every second of every day. It’s getting worse and I can’t seem to make it stop. ”
“Then don’t stop,” I whisper. “Don’t stop any of it.”
His thumb traces slowly over my knuckles. “Sophie.” His voice is low. “Are you sure?”
“Max—” My voice breaks. “I’m ready.”
His hands come up to my face, tilting my head back so I have to look at him, his thumbs tracing slow lines across my cheekbones.
“I love you.” The words come out soft and steady and it is the easiest thing I have ever done.
Max goes still. His thumbs stop moving on my cheeks. His green eyes search mine, and the look on his face—like I’ve just handed him something he’s been waiting his entire life to hold—makes my chest ache.
“I love you because you’re good, Max.” I press my hand harder against his heart. “Because you made me believe I could stop running.”
His eyes go bright and wet, and I watch him fight it—the emotion rising up through him, threatening to break the surface of all that control.
“All my life,” he says quietly, his voice rough and uneven, “that’s all I ever wanted to be. To not be like him.” He swallows. “To be the kind of alpha who would never hurt an omega the way my father hurt my mother.”
“You’re nothing like him, Max.” I cover his hands with mine, holding them against my face. “I—” I swallow. “I know that she would’ve been proud of you. I’m so proud of you. What you’ve done here at Synthera, and now Equinox. It’s going to change everything. She would’ve been so proud.”
His breath hitches. Max Cavill, who holds the world together with his bare hands—his eyes fill and he presses his forehead against mine, his hands still cradling my face.
And that’s when I feel it.
A warmth spreads through my chest, vast and alive, and for one suspended second I feel completely open. There’s no fear in it, no instinct telling me to run. Just Max, his hands on my face, his forehead against mine, and the certainty that I want to be here.
Then my scent breaks free.
I feel it happen—the suppressants giving way under the force of everything moving through me, and suddenly rain and crushed rose petals are pouring off my skin, flooding the humid air of the pool room.
Max inhales sharply. His whole body shudders.
“Sophie,” he breathes. “Your scent—”
“I know.”
It radiates off me, warmer and stronger than before, and Max’s eyes darken as he breathes me in.
He kisses me.
And it’s different from every kiss before it. Deeper. Hungrier. Like everything we’ve both been holding back has finally been given permission to exist.
“Sophie, I want to be with you.” His voice is rough against my lips, his hands tightening on my face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I feel this pull, this incredible pull—”
“I know, Max,” I whisper. “I feel it too.”
We look at each other, and for once there’s nothing complicated about it.
I want him.
I choose him.
“But I want you to be ready,” he says. “I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I pull him down and kiss him. His tongue slides over mine and I pour everything I have into it—every fear I’ve buried and all the nights I spent convincing myself I’d never deserve this.
His hands grip my waist and pull me flush against him and I can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants, and I roll my hips against him and the moan that tears out of both of us echoes off the water.
Then his hands slide down to my thighs and he lifts me.
My legs wrap around his waist, my hands fist in his hair, and he holds me up with one arm while the other grips my thigh.
The new angle presses his cock directly to my core, and the pressure is so intense I cry out into his mouth.
He rolls his hips up into me and the friction sends sparks through my entire body.
“Fuck, Sophie,” he growls against my mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Max,” I gasp, grinding against the thick ridge of his cock, and the sound he makes is desperate and barely human.
That’s how Ethan and Finn find us.
“I guess we’re not having dinner any time soon,” Finn says from the doorway.
Max sets me down on my feet. My legs almost give out, and he steadies me with a hand on my waist. I lean into him, breathing hard.
“Finn. Ethan.”
I look at both of them. Finn’s blue eyes are wide, Ethan’s gray eyes dark behind his glasses, and the tenderness I feel for both of them closes around my throat.
“I’m ready.”
The air changes instantly. My scent is intensifying by the second, rain and roses thickening in the warm air, and I watch it hit them.
Finn’s nostrils flare, his blue eyes going wide and then dark, his whole body going rigid.
Ethan inhales, and his gray eyes dilate behind his glasses and his hands curl at his sides and he makes a sound low in his throat.
Then both of them are in front of me and Max moves behind me, his broad chest warm against my back, his hands settling on my hips.
“We’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Finn says, stepping close, his hand cupping the side of my neck. He dips his head and presses his nose to my throat, breathing me in deep and slow.
“Fuck, Soph. This scent.” He groans against my skin. Then he lifts his head and his blue eyes find mine. “You know we’re yours, right? Every part of us.”
My heart swells with so much love it feels like too much for one body.
“Finn,” I whisper. “I’m yours too. I tried so hard to fight it, but I don’t think I ever stood a chance.”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”