Lovers at Heart (The Bradens, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Twenty-Two

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.