Page 61 of The Ruthless and the Strong

“No. But I will always do what you tell me to do. I would never force you into anything, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart! You made sure of that when you walked away from me. You’re a coward. And I hate that I can’t let you go. Why can’t I let you go?” I cried out.

He didn’t say anything to that, but his hold on me did loosen. I let out a small exhale, then slowly, I moved away from his grasp. And he let me. I moved back a step, putting some distance between us. Max watched me warily.

I didn’t even know why I had done this. Maybe it was all the stress from the past couple of days, or the phone call, or hell, even the frustration of being in love with him. I didn’t know.

But I’d lost control, and I hated myself just a little bit more for it.

I didn’t say any more. I moved back another step. Then another, until I reached the threshold of the front door. Then I turned around, intending on going back to the house and pretending all this never happened.

But then Max grabbed my arms and pulled me back, and then he was kissing me.

My eyes stayed open a beat, and my hands were planted firmly on his chest, wanting to push him away, yet I didn’t.

I surrendered myself to him.

I relaxed my body and moved toward him as my eyes slowly closed, and then my fists grabbed onto his shirt and I pulled him closer to me. I kissed him back.

Opening my mouth to let him in, I kissed him back, and it was like being home again. I sighed into his mouth as more tears seeped through my closed eyelids, mingling in between our lips.

Max moved his hands down to my waist as he pulled me in even closer to him, as if he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between us, before he lifted me up in his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist.

I vaguely heard him shutting the front door behind him, and he was carrying me. I didn’t care where he was moving to as long as he didn’t stop kissing me.

My fingers moved over the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning the top three. I moved to the fourth, but Max pushed me down, and I let out a small squeal before I realized we were in his bedroom and I was lying on his bed, my legs hanging over the edge.

Max stood in front of me and he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, pulling it off and throwing it on the floor. I took him in.

As many years as we had known each other, I had never seen a shirtless Max before. My hands itched to trace over every line and every curve of his muscle.

He was so much more than I had imagined, and I’d imagined him like this a lot over the years.

“Max,” I said, his name coming out in a whisper.

“Lizzie,” he said back. He grabbed my legs and pulled me toward him. My clit ached, and my heart raced.

I had imagined being with him like this a million times, yet now that it was happening, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My stomach felt like it had dropped all the way down to my feet.

“Tell me,” he said, his eyes focused intently on me.

“Tell you what?”

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Huh? Oh.” I blushed and looked away. Of course he would have put my strange behavior from earlier to being drunk. “None.”

He raised his one eyebrow. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

He leaned down on the bed and ran his hands over my body, starting from my shoulders, down my sides to my waist, and stopping outside my thighs. I shivered.

“I want this,” I said. I wanted it so badly.

“You should have stayed away from me.”

I shook my head. “I tried. I can’t.”

“I tried to stay away from you, too. I can’t.”

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