“Mia,” Max shouted, rolling over on the couch until he was on his back, thrashing like he was fighting demons in his sleep. “Come back,” he muttered in a low, desperate voice.
Mia set her coffee on the table beside the recliner, went to the couch and sank to her knees. “Max?” She stroked over the bruises on his face softly, wincing as she smoothed the rapidly emerging purple and yellow areas under his eye. She nudged Tucker, getting him to grudgingly move over so she could take his place.
“Mia,” he called out again, his voice getting more desperate.
“Wake up, Max. You’re dreaming,” she told him in a louder, sterner voice.
He sat straight up, his eyes coming open, blinking at the light as though it hurt his eyes. He looked around the room, his gaze finally landing on her face. “You’re here,” he said, sounding relieved.
Mia rose to her feet. “I’m here,” she agreed, reaching her hand out to him.
She knew Max was completely stoned—his eyes glazed over—but it still made her heart surge as he reached out and took her hand with no hesitation at all, like he completely trusted her. “Where are we going?” he mumbled as he got unsteadily to his feet.
“I’m putting you to bed,” she answered adamantly, determined to get him to a more comfortable place to sleep.
He grinned wolfishly at her. “No argument here,” he said happily, his fingers grazing over the ring finger of her left hand. “You’re wearing my ring. You found it.”
Mia didn’t want to tell him she’d never lost it. She’d left it behind, not certain what Travis’ plan had been when he’d sent his men for her, and she wanted to try to stay completely unnoticeable. Max Hamilton wasn’t the type of man to do anything lightly, and he’d bought her a beautiful ring with enough quality diamonds to make a person go blind. It definitely had bling, so she’d reluctantly and intentionally left it behind.
“I am. I love it,” she answered truthfully, wanting to tell him it had rarely left her finger the whole time they’d been apart. But she didn’t. She pulled on his hand, guiding him into her bedroom.
Stopping beside the bed, she nearly giggled at the way Max was swaying slightly, smiling a shit-eating grin she’d never seen on him before. It was naughty. It was hot.
And…he was drunk.
There was no way she was taking advantage of the situation, not to mention the fact that he was so hammered that he probably couldn’t even get it up. She lifted his arms and tugged at the back of his t-shirt, unable to ignore the flex of his powerful biceps as he held his arms out while she pulled the shirt over his head. Her breath hitched as Max’s muscular chest and sculpted abs became visible and she dropped the shirt to the floor, completely ambivalent as to where it landed. Her entire mouth went dry, and she tried desperately not to look anywhere but at his face as she fumbled with the metal button of his jeans.
I need to treat him like a child who needs my help right now. He isn’t in his right mind.
She tried…she really did. But he was definitely not a child, and as her fingers encountered difficulty unzipping his jeans because of the massive bulge beneath her fingers, Max grinned.
“Having problems, sweetheart?” he asked, his sultry voice slightly slurred.
Stepping back, she instructed, “Take off your jeans.”
He ran a hand slowly down his ripped abdomen in a sensual, slow slide. “I liked it better when you were doing it,” he drawled in a low, sexy voice that nearly made Mia jump him, drunk or not.
He flipped the button open with one tug and slowly lowered the zipper.
So much for thinking he couldn’t get hard in his intoxicated condition.
Max started pushing his jeans down, taking his boxers with them. She grabbed for the elastic of his underwear, keeping them on his hips as he peeled off the pants.
“Off,” he insisted, yanking on the red and black striped boxers.
“On,” she demanded. Hell. There was only so much a woman could take, and even in his current state, Max was one big mass of scorching hot male. She pushed hard on his chest, sending him off-balance so he landed on the bed.
He repositioned himself, crawling to the top of the bed and lounging back against her pillows. “I’m lonely,” he grumbled, patting the place beside him on the bed.
Oh no. Hell no. She wasn’t going to get into that bed.
“I love you,” he said huskily. “Come here next to me. I miss you.”
That note of vulnerability, the fact that he was letting himself be wide open to her even after she’d hurt him, broke her completely. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at her husband, the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with, asking for nothing more than for her presence. Yeah. Sure. He was befuddled, but his look was so unguarded and unprotected at the moment that it tore her heart from her chest.
She tried to mentally tick off things in her mind, focusing on what she needed to do to fix her situation, but it didn’t work. Max was calling to her, and right at this moment he needed her, and she couldn’t deny him.
He’ll hate me tomorrow. He probably came to discuss the divorce and how to get it over with as quickly as possible. He needed tons of liquor just to have a conversation with me. He’s messed up right now.
There was every reason to ignore him, but she couldn’t. It could be the last time she ever touched him, and the temptation was too great to disregard. Kicking off her sneakers, she climbed up onto the bed and snuggled beside him, sighing as her fingers were met with warm skin. “I love you, too,” she admitted, knowing he’d probably never remember any of this in the morning, and thinking that it was better if he didn’t. But the words left her lips involuntarily, needing to tell him just one last time.
His warm, protective arms snaked around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, giving herself this time, this stolen moment, to enjoy the exhilaration she felt when she was with Max. Their relationship had never been comfortable, or mildly contented. For her, it had always been a heart-thumping roller coaster that never ended. Maybe if they had been married for years, together for decades, her emotions would have settled down, but she was doubtful. She hadn’t given Max her heart; he had stolen it, the stubborn organ leaping from her chest and into his the moment they had met.
Crazy love.
The tension in Max’s arms relaxed, but he never let go of her, even after he was asleep. Mia relaxed into him and sighed, trying to absorb every bit of him into her soul, trying to keep every sensation locked in her memory.