22. Summer
Chapter Twenty-Two
Summer
T he light floods into my bedroom, and I shift.
My muscles still ache, but they’re better than they were yesterday.
I linger in the limbo between sleep and consciousness, savoring that blissful moment I have every morning, before I remember the nightmare that is my life, and that I’m alone.
Drifting closer to the surface of wakefulness, I brace myself, waiting for that first devastating blow.
With my eyes closed, I wait for the sorrow to swarm in as it always does, but as I continue to bask in the softer realm, I start to get suspicious when I’m not flooded with grief.
It’s still there, still lingering, but it’s not all-consuming as it usually is.
Don’t be a coward, Summer.
I blink my eyes open, squinting against the stinging light.
Alice is still sleeping soundly next to me.
Her arms are wrapped around me, clinging to me.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to ward off my nightmares, keep me safe, or ensure I stay with her.
Perhaps it is a mixture of all three. I slowly extract myself, and while she stirs, she doesn’t wake.
I slowly extract myself and turn back to look at her. Pain stabs my heart as I remember leaving the bed like this and turning back to look at Connor. How he would bury his face in my pillow and inhale deeply, taking in my scent.
The sorrow still hasn’t taken me over yet, and I feel stronger than I have in a while. Could it be because I was able to throw the stranger from my dream? Has the small act of empowerment somehow started to repair me?
No. Nothing he does could help me. I hate him .
I glance at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and my face puffy from all the tears I shed yesterday, but my skin has a glow it hasn’t had in a long time.
I had never experienced the post-cry glow until last year because I’d never cried, but after Connor died, the tears never stopped.
I brush my fingertips along my cheekbone, and I notice my eyes are a little brighter too.
Pulling on my yoga pants and a sports bra, I set out for a run, craving the burn in my muscles and the centering that exercise offers.
I’m still so sluggish, but it doesn’t take long before the wave of endorphins hit, and I relax into it.
I am barely paying attention to my route, too lost in the air singing through my lungs, my feet against the concrete, the sound of birdsong, and the sun against my cheeks.
So I am a little shocked when I find myself outside the gym.
I stop and look up at the building. Did I plan to come here?
Did I make this my route because I’m feeling emboldened?
You have been brave today. You woke up. You got out of bed. You moved your body.
You continued to live.
I need to talk to Max and set the record straight. Maybe I need to apologize? I don’t know, but I do know I’ve come here for a reason, and it’s time to stop hiding. It’s time to stop being a fucking coward.
I take a breath and step into the gym, feeling a shiver go through me as the cool air hits my sweat-slicked skin.
The door has barely closed behind me when I lock eyes with him.
His thick eyebrow lifts, and I know he’s intrigued.
He wasn’t expecting me, and I can’t blame him.
I wasn’t expecting to end up here either.
“Hey,” he says, and I try not to notice how his biceps flex as he straightens from his bent position over the desk and crosses his arms over his chest.
I remember his hands all over me, his lips, his ? —
Summer. Stop.
“Hi.” My voice is stronger than I expected, so I continue. “Can we talk?”
Max clears his throat. “My office?” he asks, and I can’t help but notice the hint of nerves in his voice.
I nod and walk toward it, Max’s powerful presence following behind me.
His office is minimalist and clean, but pretty boring.
I’d expect nothing less from a gym rat like him, but then my gaze locks on a textbook sitting open on his desk, along with a notepad littered with notes, and I frown at the strange sight.
When I reach the center of the room, I turn to face him .
Max closes the door and stands in front of it, watching me almost warily. “What’s up?” he asks.
“About the other night . . .”
“Right,” Max says. He sighs softly and walks across the office to lean against the desk.
I can feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I look away from him. “I under-stand what it was, and I’m?.?.?. Fuck. I’m sorry you felt like you had to?—”
“Had to?” Max interrupts, and I look up at him. He’s watching me closely, obviously bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
“Max?.?.?.” I start, preparing to go into a soliloquy about how I understand how pathetic I am and how he must have taken pity on me, but Max’s eyes flash green, and my words trail off.
“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, you’re going to piss me off.”
“Max,” I repeat, bristling for some reason.
“Summer,” Max growls back.
“I understand I was . . .” I try again.
“Hot?” Max interrupts again, narrowing his eyes. There’s something menacing about the way he’s looking at me, but as usual, I feel completely safe with him.
My brows knit together, and I blink. I’m pretty sure I do not look hot right now. I know I’m still a mess, a ghost of who I used to be, and devoid of any confidence or happiness. That night, I was nothing more than an illusion. In reality, I am a black hole, a wreck.
“Extremely so?” Max says, pushing off his desk and stalking closer to me.
I track his every movement, unable to take my eyes off him.
Arrogance oozes from him, and I find myself focusing on his lips.
I remember how pillowy soft they are, how commanding and desperate his kiss was.
Max prowls closer until his warmth is seeping into me.
“That wasn’t the word I was going to use,” I say, stepping back, trying to put some distance between us because my mind is starting to cloud. He moves closer, and I step back again, only to find myself pressed against the wall.
“If you think it came from pity and not me wanting to fuck you because you are hot?.?.?.” His gaze slowly drifts to my mouth, and I reflexively wet my bottom lip. “I’ll just have to prove you wrong, and I can do that right now,” he growls, his words sending a shock of awareness to my core .
“Max?.?.?. we shouldn’t,” I pant, my words barely audible.
Max leans in a little, his breath mingling with mine. There is something intoxicating about the minty scent. “You think too much,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is insistent, but he isn’t otherwise touching me, and I know he’s giving me time to decide if I want this.
I should pull back. I’m going to pull back. I’m going to stop kissing Max. Now.
I deepen the kiss, and the second I lean in and open for him, Max pushes my pants over my hips, and I step out of them. He bends to cup the backs of my thighs and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He grinds against me, pressing his erection into my core.
Shit, when did he get so hard?
I need to stop this. I need to pull back, but the desire coursing through me is blissful. The feeling of being alive captivates me once again, and I chase it, needing the proof that I can feel anything other than sorrow and grief.
Max bites my lip hard and shoves my panties to the side.
His mouth claims mine again, our tongues tangling as he pulls a condom from his pocket and shoves down his shorts.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, anticipating the moment I will be full of him, but he doesn’t push into me.
Instead, he breaks the kiss and pulls back with a low, filthy curse.
He pants into my mouth, and when I open my eyes, I notice his are still closed.
He is obviously struggling with something, and I should care, but I need what he can give me.
I take the condom from his hand, and when he opens his eyes, I see the green edging against the warm brown.
I rip the small foil packet open with my teeth and reach between us, rolling it down over his straining cock.
The whole time, I keep my gaze locked on his, watching as his eyes flicker, and when emerald green floods his irises, I understand he has been trying to control the berserker.
The thing is, I want the berserker in control.
I slam my lips down on his, and his control snaps.
Max roars into the kiss and grips my hips, pulling me down as he pushes up, taking me in one brutal thrust. The bittersweet symphony of pain and pleasure sends waves of ecstasy through my entire body.
Max sets a desperate rhythm, thrusting hard and fast. I break the kiss and meet his gaze as I gasp for air, the glowing green of his eyes proving how feral he is at the moment.
“Tell me when this feels like pity,” he growls, but all I can do is moan his name as he plunges into me over and over, fucking me with abandon .
“Max—”
He snarls and yanks my sports bra down, his big, rough hand cupping my breast. He squeezes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I cry out at the pinch of pain that makes my pussy spasm.
I shift my knees higher against his sides, opening myself further so he can sink deeper into me.
I slam my mouth to his again, and he bites my lip so hard that I feel it split, tasting the copper of my blood coating my tongue.
I arch, using the wall at my back as leverage to meet his thrusts.
Digging my nails into his skin, I drag them down his arms, drawing his blood as he did mine.
My orgasm is already within reach, and I know I’m not going to last. Before the other night, it had been so long, and my body has obviously been craving this, desperate to feel something other than the bone-deep pain.