Page 41 of Royally Romanov
Maxim couldn’t hide behind his past the way Finley could. What must it be like to survive something like that and not remember what happened? Not remember anything?
Maxim was doing everything he could to put the pieces of his life back together, but if Finley truly wanted to help him she would’ve urged him to let those pieces lie where they may. Some things were best left forgotten.
She wished she could forget the sound of footsteps behind her in the dark. Wished she could forget the horrible sound her shoulder made when it hit the concrete. Most of all she wished she could forget the fear of what her attacker might do to her. Fear so intense that it had wrapped itself around her like a blanket. She’d been paralyzed, unable to move. Unable to breathe. She could only lie there, helpless, waiting for whatever unthinkable fate awaited her.
She’d been relieved once she realized that all the stranger wanted was her valuables. She didn’t utter a single protest when he yanked her backpack from her arms. She hadn’t shed a tear when he’d ripped the gold locket from around her neck. She’d just wanted the whole ordeal to be over.
The necklace had belonged to her great-grandmother. It was a family heirloom. Irreplaceable. Sometimes during rare moments of forgetfulness, Finley still found herself reaching for the gold locket that once rested against her breastbone. Then she’d realize it was missing, and the memories would come flooding back.
Maxim strode back in the room with Finley’s handbag, dragging her thoughts back to the present. Her purse looked so small in his grasp. Delicate. He had strong hands. Capable hands. She loved the way they had felt buried in her hair. They’d probably feel even better on her bare breasts.
She had to stop thinking about such things. But she couldn’t seem to help it. She missed being touched. Being kissed. Being loved.
She missed the weight of a man on top of her as he entered her. She missed being filled. She hadn’t thought she missed those things, but she had.
One kiss. That’s all it had taken for her to realize everything she’d given up.
“Here you go.” Maxim offered her the bag.
She took it, trying her best to avoid touching him as she did so. She no longer trusted herself around him.
“Merci.” She clutched her purse to her chest like it was a life preserver.
Too late. You’re already out of your depth.
“You’re most welcome.” Maxim crossed his arms. His sleeves inched up, and it took superhuman effort for Finley not to stare blatantly at his forearms. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a moment and take a look at my grandmother’s things? There’s not much. No more photographs. Just an old charm bracelet and some books. Mostly cookbooks and recipes. I got it all together before you came over last night.”
Finley shook her head.
No way was she staying. She was already running late. And she’d already kissed him.Again.
She was willing to think of the first time as an innocent mistake, although their kiss had felt anything but innocent. But repeating that mistake in less than twelve hours wasn’t the kind of thing she could overlook.
She wasn’t ready for this, despite what Scott had to say on the matter. Even if she was ready, she’d have to be the biggest idiot in Paris to kiss Maxim Laurent again, much less sleep with him.
“Je suis désolé. There’s simply no time.” She smiled as politely as she could and called Gerard.
But as she knelt to clip the leash onto the bulldog’s collar, Maxim looked down at her like he clearly didn’t believe her. And somewhere deep down, Finley knew she couldn’t keep running.
She still had Maxim’s photograph. She was going to have to see him again.
Ready or not.
