Chapter 21
Lila perches on the edge of Max’s indoor pool, the residence’s secret jewel, located below ground. She’s lost in the quiet world of her new mini art project. Her pencil moves across the page while her toes trail lazy ripples through the heated water.
She purses her lips and taps the pencil against the thick paper. The portrait might not be enough, but it’s something. Original.
Glancing up, she studies Max. It’s hard not to marvel at his swimming form. She knows he works out daily but seeing it in action is something else entirely. His lean, muscular body slices through the water with effortless power.
No wonder he’s not afraid of sharks.
She watches cautiously as he emerges. Water clings to him, tracing the contours of his body as he pushes back his wet hair with both hands. Their eyes meet instantly, and his easygoing grin spreads as he wades closer. Her mouth goes dry, and her chest tightens.
Droplets shimmer across his skin, each step illuminated by the pool’s soft glow, lending him an almost ethereal presence.
How unfair, she thinks. Rich, tall, and drop-dead gorgeous. If there’s a god, Max is proof that there’s heinous favoritism at play.
“Ready to get in?” he asks, his voice low, rich, and inviting.
“No.” Lila shakes her head. She flips the sketchbook face down on her lap.
“You know I’m on my period,” she says.
He raises an eyebrow, his gaze unapologetically intense. Her cheeks flush as his dark, clever eyes travel slowly over her body, pausing on the sketchpad lying across her toned, bare thighs before returning to meet her stare.
Leaning forward so that his face hovers inches from hers, he says, “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. There aren’t any sharks here.”
His sudden proximity sends the butterflies in her stomach into another frenzy. “No. Worse… There’s you,” she mutters, turning her head away just in time to hear him chuckle.
“Promise I won’t bite,” he says in a sing-song voice, gently taking hold of her chin to draw her attention back to him. Flashing his brilliant, pearly-white smile again, he urges, “Come on. Let’s swim. It’s my birthday.”
“Sorry, birthday boy, but I can’t swim.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“No,” she says again, firmer this time.
“Come on.”
It really bothers her that he never takes no for an answer.
“So, how old are you now?” she asks, hoping to distract him from the topic of swimming.
“Thirty-seven.”
“Oh, wow. That’s really old.”
He leans in and pecks her softly on the cheek.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, then plants another kiss on her pillowy-soft lips.
“Yeah. Ancient,” she says, lightly pushing him away. “How were your knees when you woke up this morning, old man?”
“Three out of ten. They’re very rickety,” he says with a lighthearted chuckle. “What have you been doing all afternoon?”
“It’s a secret.”
“I’ll find out eventually,” he says.
“Hm. We’ll see about that,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.
Suddenly, with a swift and unexpected tug, Max snatches her sketchbook from her lap.
“Max!” she exclaims, reaching out in vain to grab it back. He holds it high above her, just out of reach. Mischief dances in his eyes as he looks up, curious about what she’s been working on all day instead of paying attention to him.
“Lila, this is wonderful,” he says softly, his voice filled with genuine awe. He seems genuinely pleased to discover that she’s spent the entire day working on a portrait of him.
Observing him now, she recalls how intimidating and out of reach he had seemed the night they first met.
Though Max typically wears a cold expression in the presence of others, he has revealed a softer side of himself to her.
In the portrait, he wears that relaxed smile that always steals her breath away, with the faintest crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughs.
“You’ve captured me quite well,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of something she can’t quite decipher.
“I wasn’t ready to show you,” she replies, pursing her lips to hold back a smile. “I haven’t drawn the devil horns yet… but it’s your present. I hope you like it. Sorry it’s not much.”
“It’s fantastic, Lila. I’ll keep it forever.
Thank you. I’ll frame this when I get home.
Let’s skip the devil horns, though,” he says, flashing the same boyish grin she spent hours trying to capture on paper.
As skilled as she is, the real thing still leaves her breathless.
Yet she knows that behind that smile lurks something dark and twisted.
He may seem trustworthy with his disarming charm, warm embrace, and attentive listening, but with Max, nothing is ever truly safe. She isn’t sure when her perception of him changed. Was it during one of their runs in the rain? Or maybe it was even before that.
But whatever spell that had made her see him differently—sweeter, romantic, thoughtful—is gone now, leaving only a coil of dread whenever he’s near.
She didn’t realize how far she’d slipped until it was too late. Little by little, Max had been unraveling her sanity.
Clearing her throat, she says, “It’s not finished yet. I still have some things left to do… Minus the devil horns.”
“It’s already perfect. Now it’s time for you to learn how to swim,” he says, grinning.
He sets the pad of paper carefully beside the pool, then suddenly pulls her into the water. Her startled yelp echoes over the splash as she falls in beside him.
“Max! I said no!”
“We’ve got to put this sexy bikini to good use,” he says, holding her close. “Sophie would be so disappointed if her efforts went to waste.”
“You’re so terrible,” she groans into his chest. His embrace stirs conflicting emotions within her again.
She feels his hands gradually travel down her lower back to cup her ass. “You need to relax if you want to learn how to swim,” he murmurs in a low voice, sensing her body stiffen beneath his kneading touch. “You’re so tense.”
“I think… you’re just molesting me.”
He bursts into hearty laughter, his robust chuckles resonating through the pool area.
“I knew it,” she murmurs, pursing her lips and giving him a disapproving, stern look.
But before she can say another word, he holds her chin and kisses her.
Her body betrays her, melting instantly into his embrace.
She instinctively wraps her arms around his broad back and tilts her head, granting him her neck as a rush of conflicting pleasure and unease washes over her with each kiss.
“I’m not doing anything with you,” she moans lustfully as he nips and sucks at her sensitive skin.
It has become apparent to her that he enjoys leaving his marks.
Her neck, chest, wrists, and inner thighs are marred with an accumulation of little bruises and marks from where he grips and sucks her while he fucks her a little too hard.
“Stop! Max, I’m on my period.”
“So you keep saying… but a bit of dick will probably make you feel better and ease your cramps,” he whispers into her ear, sending pleasant tingles down her spine.
“Gross. Who said I was cramping?” she snaps, leaning back to pinch his cheek. “You’re so bad… You just say whatever comes to mind so you can get your dick wet.”
“But aren’t you?” he murmurs, pulling her flush against him. “Let’s test my hypothesis. We won’t know unless we try… Let’s fuck, baby. I’ll be gentle.”
Max continues to push her boundaries, as evidenced by her standing waist-deep in the pool wearing a skimpy swimsuit she would never have chosen for herself. “I didn’t know you were such a scientist, on top of being a businessman,” she says, her voice husky even to her own ears.
“I’m a man with many,” he murmurs, kissing beneath her jawline. “Many,” he continues, trailing kisses down her throat. “Many great attributes,” he finishes at her delicate collarbone, letting his lips linger against her soft skin as he inhales her scent.
Pushing aside the turbulent emotions within her, she pulls him into a deep kiss, gently caressing his face with both hands and enjoying the roughness of his coarse stubble against her fingers. He makes her feel like a toy—a doll he can dress up and throw around.
But despite her inner turmoil, he always manages to stir waves of desire within her.
A short while later, by the poolside, Lila reclines on her back atop a large white towel, her tampon already discarded after a quick trip to the bathroom.
Her heart beats hard in her chest, her body tense with nerves at the thought of having sex for the first time while menstruating.
He looms over her as he pumps his erection, his gaze raking over her, admiring the bright pink flush on her soft cheeks and the gentle dips and curves of her figure.
The wet fabric of her skimpy bikini bottom lies discarded to the side as she remains spread open before him.
He can tell she’s nervous by the way she grips her trembling legs apart as instructed, her head angled away.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice firm and full of desire.
She presses her lips together, then turns slowly to meet his gaze. He spits, letting it drip onto his rod. She watches as he coats his entire length, preparing himself to penetrate her.
“Let me help you relax, sweetie,” he murmurs darkly as he kneels between her spread thighs and presses the swollen head firmly to her entrance.
With a swift, unyielding thrust, he buries nearly half his length inside her. She cries out at the sudden intrusion, her body tensing beneath him, but he doesn’t hesitate.
“Holy fuck,” she whimpers, the words breaking on her tongue as waves of dizzying pleasure tear through her.
She’s slicker than usual, his shaft gliding in and out of her overly sensitive tunnel with ease.
Her legs instinctively lock around him, trying to slow his relentless movements as the flood of sensation becomes too much to handle.