Lovers at Heart by Melissa Foster
“No, it’s not. Some might say it’s fate.”
Fate. Fate?
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
Max shook her head. I’m too confused to know anything right now. You’re so damned wonderful to me every single time we’re together, and I’m too fucked up to accept it.
“You were thinking with your heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
HE CARRIED HER into his bungalow and laid her on the couch. He slipped off her shoes and covered her with the softest blanket Max had ever felt, and then he went to work making a fire. She was too emotionally exhausted to do anything but lie there and watch him.
She looked around the room, which was not much bigger than her apartment, but much nicer, with a stone fireplace that went up two stories and a cathedral ceiling. Besides the couch, the room boasted only a coffee table and bookshelves to match, both intricately carved from wood and painted white. She was glad to see the bookshelves not only full of books, but also decorated with knickknacks and candles, much like her own. Beyond the door there was a quaint kitchen and a table for four tucked into a nook. Encasement windows lined the back of the house and a set of French doors led to a deck. A staircase ran between the kitchen and the living room, and she assumed his bedroom was up those stairs.
She couldn’t stop her mind from traveling to that bedroom, remembering what it had been like to be touched by him, to be beneath him. She closed her eyes and a moment later felt the side of the couch dip down.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’m going to run a bath for you.”
Just the thought of being submerged beneath the warm water eased her tension. They needed to talk and figure things out, but that could wait. She also didn’t want to end up masking her concerns with sex, like she had the first time they were together—even if she allowed herself to admit the truth, that she’d been hungry for him since he’d walked away from her apartment.
She touched his hand, and even that sent a shiver of desire through her. “Thank you,” she said.
He set his other hand on top of hers and cast a mischievous grin her way. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m not going to try to woo you with my sexual prowess.” His eyes grew serious, and his voice deepened. “I just want to take care of you. I won’t try anything and, Max, I know we can talk after you’ve had some rest, but I have to say it now or I’ll never forgive myself. I’m sorry isn’t enough to repair the hurt I have caused, but I will live with that regret for the rest of my life, and it’ll serve as a reminder of the pain I never, ever want to cause you again.”
The lump in Max’s throat kept her from speaking, and when he reached up and brushed a hair from her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear, she closed her eyes, memorizing the whisper of his intimate touch.
Treat went upstairs, and Max closed her eyes. I’m an idiot. I keep running from him, and he’s so good to me.
He came downstairs a few minutes later and scooped her up again. Although it went against every fiber of her being to be seen as anything even close to a damsel in distress, she cuddled against him, allowing herself to relish in his warmth and generosity.
The smell of warm vanilla filled the spacious candle-lit bathroom. Treat set her down on the ceramic floor, and she longed to be back in his arms, against his warmth. The idea of a warm bath had seemed wonderfully decadent when she was downstairs, when it was just a thought, like an intangible dream, but now, as she stood in the bathroom alone with Treat and her body was reacting to his generous and incredibly romantic gesture in ways that were making it hard for her to think straight, her nerves began to tingle. She looked in the mirror, and Treat’s intimate gaze sent a sobering dose of reality through her. He looked at her like the thought of living without her would be too painful to endure—reflecting the very feelings she’d been trying to deny. She had to tell him the truth, to come clean with all that she’d been holding back. It wasn’t fair that he’d revealed his fears to her and she’d hidden behind her own.
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything, sweetness.” He turned away.
Sweetness. The endearment sent shivers through her. “Don’t go,” she whispered.
He turned, and in that breath, she saw relief in the lowering of his shoulders and the slight curl of his lips.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I only want to help you feel better, even if that means you need a life without me in it. I’ll understand.”
She knew he would, too, from the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to tell him about her secret, then shook her head instead. She couldn’t risk ruining the safety she felt. “I want you here. With me.” How could one man make her feel so safe after the roller coaster of emotions she’d experienced over the past forty-eight hours? When she looked into his eyes, the very worries that had sent her reeling in anger now seemed far, far away.
“Please?”
“Anything for you, sweetness. Anything at all.”
She took a step toward him and splayed her hands on the hard muscles of his stomach, then rested her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes.
“I’m here,” was all he said as he rested his head on hers. And it was all she needed to hear.
Treat slipped her sweatshirt from her shoulders and laid it neatly on the counter next to a basket of soaps and lotions. Max loved his propensity for organization. Just like me.
She lifted her arms as he took off her shirt.
“You’re even more beautiful in the candlelight,” he whispered, then unbuttoned his own shirt and stepped from his pants.
Max had to close her eyes against the primal urges that gathered in her belly and spread through her like wildfire. She felt his fingers adeptly removing her pants, lifting each of her calves with his gentle touch.
She opened her eyes and met his tender and steady gaze.
Treat took her glasses off and set them on the counter. “Max,” he whispered.
She felt the tension in his palm as he cupped her face; at the same time, her eyes lowered. His obvious desire sent tantalizing thrills through her. She wanted to feel his body against her. Before she could reach for him, he was guiding her to the tub and lowering her down. Then he stepped in behind her and settled her against him. She closed her eyes as he washed her arms sensually with a warm, soapy cloth and gathered her hair in his hand, moving it over one of her shoulders. Max had never felt so cherished as he slid the cloth along her shoulder and neck, slowly, lovingly. She moaned at the gentle caress.
He took her hands in his and washed each of her fingers, her palms, her wrists.
“Relax,” he whispered as she leaned forward. He gently brought her back against his chest.
“Rest,” he said, reaching under the water to wash her legs.
The cloth moved slowly up her thighs to the bend of her hip, then slowly back down to the crest of her knee. He slid his hands along her lower belly, caressing her rib cage, her hips, and along her inner thighs. Max closed her eyes and let her legs fall open against his; his thighs held her as a willing captive, and his thick, muscular, arms reached around her, creating a loving cocoon that made her feel small and feminine—and very, very desirous.
He wrapped his arms around her middle, leaning his cheek against hers. His breath warmed her damp shoulders, and Max wanted to stay right there, with his heart beating against her back, forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
NOTHING IN HIS life had ever given Treat the ceaseless feeling of happiness as taking care of Max for the last hour had. He could feel her tension releasing in every breath she took, in the way her eyes rode at half-mast, and the slow waning of her anger, replaced with a contented haze. Everything about Max was sublime, and as much as his body cried out for her, sex wasn’t what he craved. This closeness was enough. If they did nothing else tonight, he would be sated.
The bubbles dissipated and the water cooled. Max m
“Let me dry you off, sweetness.”
She moved as if she were half asleep, her slender arms reaching for him as she stood. Treat helped her step from the tub and wrapped her in a thick towel, then took another towel and gently patted her dry. He moved from her neck and shoulders to her arms, remembering the way his heart ached the first time he’d set eyes on her and how the unfamiliar emotion had frightened him. Now he understood the emotion, and the only fear he had was of not being the man Max wanted him to be—the man she deserved. In order to do that, he needed to learn about her insecurities, her dreams.
Treat was every bit an alpha male, from his height and strength to his desire to protect, but never had anyone incited his protective reflexes as strongly as his family had—until he met Max. When that first emotion had hit him, it had shaken him to his core, and he hadn’t known how to handle the impulses. Now, as he knelt before Max, wiping the water from her body, he knew just what to do. He embraced those impulses. He would protect Max’s heart with simple acts of kindness and love. The only nagging doubt of allowing himself to fully open up and love her, and to let her love him in return, was the worry caused by his mother’s death, and he was working on that. He kept his father’s words close to remind him to let those fears go. Your mama didn’t die because of our love for each other.
He was surprised when Max reached for his neck, wanting him to carry her to the bedroom. He knew the first time he’d carried her from the car that she might fight him. She was strong and self-sufficient, and she was proud of that. The woman he was carrying to his bed never failed to surprise him—even the way she went from intense sexuality to full-on fear showed her strength. Most women would have continued making love, rationalized their minds out of ending the intimacy. In his experience, most women feared losing the men in their lives. Max wasn’t anything like most women.
He drew back the covers with one hand and laid her on the clean sheets, then grabbed one of his clean T-shirts from his dresser.
“I’m just going to put this on you, sweetness.” He slid the shirt over her head and smoothed it down almost to her knees. Damn, she looked adorable and sexy all at once.
Treat slipped into a pair of boxer briefs, then brought the candles from the bathroom and placed them on the slate in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. He lay beside Max, leaning on one elbow so he could take care of whatever she needed.
“Why are you so good to me?” Max asked.
“Because you deserve it.”
“I’m pretty drunk,” she admitted.
“That’s okay. I’m not. I won’t let you take advantage of me.” He rubbed his fingers lightly across her forehead, and she closed her eyes.
“Mmm. That feels so good.”
“Good,” he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was break the trusting mood of his bedroom. He’d thought about what she’d look like in his bed too many times to count, and he knew bringing up the hurt of when he’d left Allure so quickly might cause her to run again, but he couldn’t take the chance of not talking things through—because of how badly that had backfired last time.
“Sweetness, can we talk?”
“Tired,” she said.
“I know. I just don’t want to wake up at two a.m. and find you angry with me again. We should deal with all of this, figure out where we stand.”
She curled in to the curve of his arm. “I don’t want to stand. I want to stay right here. Forever.”
Forever. Forever was just what he wanted, but not without a clear conscience. He had to clear the air.
“Max, the reason I left town was to let you live your life without me in it. I didn’t want you to feel the pressure of my presence.” Or the hurt. “I promised myself I wouldn’t contact you. I’d let you be.”
She wrapped her arm around his belly and snuggled in closer. So much emotion welled within him that he had to close his eyes, swallowing past the love in his heart, to gain the courage to continue.
“Then, when I saw you on the street, I knew in that moment that I couldn’t do it.”
“Treat,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“I followed you. Doesn’t that tell you something? I didn’t know you’d be here, but you said it was your favorite place on earth, and I hoped against everything in my world that you’d be here. I couldn’t walk away either.”
She looked up at him, her green eyes glistening in the candlelight. Treat felt the thrum of desire building again.
“I believe you.” She ran her finger across the waistband of his skivvies. “I heard what you said to the blonde,” she repeated. “I heard what you said to me, the night we had dinner, and I read your notes a hundred times.” She leaned up and touched his cheek, sending a shiver through him. “I know that night at my apartment, before we…when we were in the living room…I know you wanted to tell me you were sorry then. I saw it in your eyes. But I wasn’t ready to hear it.” She laid her head back on his chest and sighed.
He pulled her closer. She knows. The tension in his chest lessened a little.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Shh, you don’t have to.” He stroked her hair.
“No, I want to be completely honest with you. There’s something about me that you need to know.” She leaned on her elbow and looked at him.
“Whatever it is, please, share it only if you feel like you really want to. I’m not a possessive person by nature. What came over me at Nassau was new to me. I did it out of fear, sweetness, so please, you don’t need—”
She put her finger over his lips. “Shh. I’m telling you because I think we both know that whatever this is between us is bigger than both of us have ever experienced before, and you need to know why it’s just as hard for me as it is for you. I should have told you that night when you told me about your mom, but I couldn’t. I was too afraid to open up and let you in.”
Treat sat up against the headboard, taking in how cute she looked, dwarfed by his T-shirt, and the stark contrast to the serious look on her face. “Okay. I’m listening.”
She took his hand, and a sinking feeling settled into his stomach.
“Before I tell you, what exactly am I wearing? What does PASG stand for?” She pulled the bottom of the T-shirt away from her body and looked down at it. “Is that some strange sexual reference?”
He knew she was stalling, grasping for levity instead of revealing whatever it was she felt she had to say. Treat wanted her to be comfortable, and as he watched her lips trying to form a smile and her eyes trying to climb out from the shadow of whatever was haunting her, he soaked in her effort. With each passing moment, each minuscule change in her eyes or her facial expressions, he learned more about her. Treat knew he’d make every effort to remember it all, so if there was a next time that she had something so troubling to deal with, he’d know how to comfort her.
He smiled. “No. Provincetown AIDS Support Group. It’s a local group that I support.”
“Oh, that’s really nice. As long as you’re not making me look silly.”
“You could never look silly. Please, tell me what you wanted to tell me. I want to know.”
Her eyes darkened again, and he squeezed her hand. “When I was a senior in college, I dated this guy. He was handsome and smart and funny, the kind of guy that everyone loved. Things were fine for a long time, but as we got closer to graduation, we moved in together, and over the next few months, he changed. I’ve never understood what caused him to change, but he did. He became verbally abusive, withdrawn.”
Treat’s protective juices were flowing, and he did his best to rein them in. “Go on,” he said. If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.
“It became, I don’t know, a way of life, I suppose. He called me names and told me I was worthless, and in all honesty, I was weak.” She searched his eyes. “You look like you’re ready to explo
“No. Continue, please.” The thought of someone being verbally abusive to Max pushed every button in his body. The anger coursing through him was stronger than any fury he’d ever felt.
“Anyway, as I said, I was weak. My parents are great—they really are—but Mom and I have never really talked about relationships.” Max shook her head. “Before my grandmother died, she told me that the secret to a lasting relationship was to always speak your mind. But my mother had already convinced me that was the wrong road to take and that I shouldn’t complain or try to change things.” She furrowed her brow. “I think my grandmother told me that because of how my mom’s relationship was. She was so submissive. Not that my father was ever abusive, but Mom never really spoke her mind.” Max sighed. “It’s no wonder that Mom and I never talked about relationships.”
Treat put his arm around her waist and slid her protectively against him.
“Anyway, he’d grabbed my arm and—Treat, you’re trembling.”
He unclenched his jaw just long enough to say, “I don’t want to scare you, but I’d like to kill this asshole.”
“There’s more, but I’ll stop—”
“I’m not an evil person. I’m not going to track him down like an animal and hurt him, Max.” Though I want nothing more. “But I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t mad enough to want to do those things, and I promised myself I’d always be honest with you.” An intense heat of worry soared through Treat. He took a deep breath, trying to understand the reaction that bore a hole in his gut. It could only be driven by his love for Max.
She touched his chest, and that simple skin-to-skin contact brought his anger down a notch. She’s here. She’s safe.
“That was the only time he’d ever grabbed me, and I lost it. After he went to bed, I was still crying. That night, my mom happened to call, and I didn’t even have to say anything. I couldn’t say anything. That was the one and only time she ever said anything to me about a specific relationship. She said one thing to me, and that one thing changed everything in my life. She said, ‘Get out.’”