Joey: Chapter 49
My heart is racing, and my stomach is a twisted knot of emotion as I walk inside my bedroom. Max follows behind me and closes the door. The click of the lock makes my breath hitch in my throat. I told him that I hate him. I punched Dante. And all they did was come to rescue me.
The tension in the room is thick enough to taste. My skin bristles, sensing his closeness as he draws near. He steps up behind me, his warm breath tickling my neck, and a shudder runs the length of my entire body.
“So you hate me, baby girl?” he says, his voice is low and full of danger, and it makes my knees tremble. Max presses his lips against the shell of my ear, and my flesh breaks out with spontaneous goosebumps. “Or do you want to take that back?”
Of course I don’t hate him. But I’m still beyond fucking angry. Pissed off at everyone. At him and my brothers. Monique. But mostly, my incandescent rage is directed at the Russian sack of elephant shit who thought he could force me to become his wife. His thing.
Turning around, I look up at Max as he towers over me. “I hate when you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Like I’m some sort of idiot who would fall to pieces if I had to deal with reality.”
His eyes blaze into mine and the heat that surrounds me does nothing to stop the tremors rippling through my body. Tucking my hair behind my ear, his fingertips graze my skin and make me shiver. “I’ll never keep the truth from you again.”
Tears prick at my eyes. That was the last thing I expected him to say. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
He dips his head low, dusting his lips over my neck. “I love you so fucking much, Joey.”
I close my eyes, trying to savor the moment with him because this is all I dreamed about when I worried that I’d never have it again. But all I can think about is Viktor. His hands on me. His smell. His kiss. His vile little cock. Bile surges up from my empty stomach and I reel backward, but Max puts his hands on my hips, holding me steady.
“I-I’m filthy. I need to …” I look down at my dirty clothes and my scraped knees.
“Of course. I’ll run you a bath.” Dropping a soft kiss on the top of my head, he turns and disappears into the bathroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I listen to the water gurgle out of the pipes and think about Mo. How could she betray me for a man she meant nothing to?
My thoughts shift to him—alone in our basement—and all the ways I’m going to make him pay for taking me. For killing Henry and hurting Ash. For making my family worry. For making Max look at me like I’m broken.
“Tub’s ready.” Max’s deep voice cuts across the room, snapping me from my thoughts.
With an absent-minded nod, I stand and peel off my clothes. I leave them in a pile on my bedroom floor. Max steps back from the bathtub and doesn’t even try to touch my naked body. I fight back tears as I step inside the tub. The water is hot and bubbly and soothing, but all I want to do is curl into a ball and bawl. Why do I feel this messed up?
It’s only when I lie back that I notice Max getting undressed. I watch him strip off his clothes, revealing his toned muscles and beautiful ink, and I relish the sight of his glorious naked form.
Noticing that I’m watching him, he frowns. “I can take a shower if you’d prefer?”
“Would you prefer?”
With narrowed eyes, he wastes no time climbing into the steamy water that sloshes over the sides as he positions himself behind me. Wrapping his huge arms around my waist, he pulls me close. “I let the hating me comment go, Joey, but don’t push it,” he growls, and the sound rumbles through my back.
I lean against him and rest my head on his solid chest. “I punched Dante in the mouth.”
“He deserved it.”
That makes me laugh, but I still owe my brother an apology.
Max runs a washcloth over my legs, gently cleaning my scraped knees. “Did he hurt you, baby?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
Would it matter if he had? Would that make you see me differently, Max? I don’t voice those thoughts though. “He kissed me.”
His entire body tenses. “Where?”
“On the mouth.”
Max grips my jaw, tilts my head back, and seals his lips over mine, sliding his tongue into my mouth and kissing me so deeply that wetness pools between my thighs. He pulls back, his dark eyes blazing. “Where else did he touch you, baby?”
“Nowhere else, Max. You don’t have to worry.”
I swear the thunderous sound he makes is like nothing I’ve ever heard before in my life. He lifts me, spinning me around until I straddle his hips. “You think I’m worried about me?” I avoid his gaze, but he grabs my jaw again and forces me to look at him. “Do you?”
“I just meant … you’re still the only one.”
“It would break my fucking heart if he hurt you, baby girl. But not because of that. Not for a second because of that.”
Reading the tender look in his dark eyes, I believe him.
“Did he touch you anywhere else?” he asks again.
“No. He tried when I was escaping, but before that … He said I wasn’t intact. He was going to make me have an operation to have my hymen replaced before he—”
“Sick fucking fuck,” he mutters.
Wanting to forget about Viktor, I wrap my arms around Max’s neck. “I don’t hate you, Max.”
“You don’t, huh?”
“You know I don’t.”
“I should turn your ass a pretty shade of red for saying it though.”
“Probably.” I chew on my lip. “So why don’t you?”
“I can find plenty of things to punish you for any time I want, baby girl. Tonight, I just want to take care of you.”
I grin at him. “You want to take care of me?”
He brushes his lips over my collarbone. “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
“I want you to touch me like I’m not broken. Max.”
He blinks at me. “You think that I think you’re broken?”
I swallow the ball of emotion that jumps into my throat. “You’re looking at me differently.”
“Because I almost fucking lost you, Joey. I was too focused on looking elsewhere when I should have been focused on you. You are the only thing that matters. If anything had happened to you, that would’ve been on me. If he’d hurt you …”
“It would be on him.”
“If I’m looking at you differently, it’s because I’m thanking whatever god or devil I prayed to today that brought you back to me. Maybe I’m looking at you differently because I’m scared you’ll realize that I let you down and that I don’t deserve you.”
“You didn’t let me down, Max. You never could.”
“I never will again.” He pulls me closer, and my pussy nudges his stiff cock. “But don’t think I’m giving up any control here, Joey. I still know what you need. I still know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“And what’s that?” I ask as I rub myself over his cock, trying to distract him.
“You’re scared because Pushkin got to you. It makes you feel vulnerable and you hate that. You feel betrayed by Monique and naive for trusting her the way you did, even though none of us saw what she was doing. And despite what she did, you’re sad she’s dead, and that confuses the hell out of you. You’re blaming yourself for Henry and Ash, even though logically you know it’s not your fault. You’re still full of anger and you feel justified in the things you said to your brother today, but you also feel guilty for saying them.”
“Wow! That’s quite the summary,” I snap, irritated that he was able to verbalize what I feel better than I could have.
“I’m not quite done.”
“No?” I tip my chin up, daring him to go on.
“You’re still pissed at me too, even though you won’t admit it. But you’re also wondering whether you can use sex to distract yourself from all the things you don’t want to feel.”
I stop grinding against him. Asshole. “You think?”
He grabs my hips, dragging me over his stiff cock. My core contracts with need. “I know it, baby girl. And you know, I could use a distraction too.”
I bite on my lip as I stare at his handsome face, etched with anger and guilt. Maybe this is exactly what we both need.
“And I know you’ve had a rough couple of days, but I hope you know that doesn’t mean I’m taking it easy on you. Because you’re mine, Joey. I own you and I always will. Never forget that.”
“Show me.”
His eyes narrow as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my hips. Then he shifts his hips, lifting me up at the same time. His cock nudges my entrance, and, without any further warning, he pulls me down, slamming into me. My toes curl, shockwaves of pleasure surging through my body. This man knows exactly what I need when I need it. But he’s wrong if he thinks I’m incapable of taking control.