The Only Way is Up

Part Twenty Four

"You've pushed me back a dozen times, I get that, you aren't ready...that bastard hurt you...I get all that. But then you do this..." he looked to the ceiling for a moment. "I'm not made of stone you know."

"I appreciate that." She gave a half smile, "I just have reservations...concerns...worries."

He nodded, "and are any of those things REAL? Or are you worrying what people will say? That I'm a personal trainer? That I'm younger than you?"

He knew her so well, that was obvious, and those had all been legitimate fears for her, in the beginning. Now though? They weren't valid, but the reality was, that from the few kisses they'd shared, the way he touched her, cared for her. She was in danger of losing everything, she'd been humiliated and broken hearted once, she wasn't ready for that to happen again, she wasn't strong enough for that. And Maxim was so different to Vincent that she knew that what she'd already been through was nothing compared to the devastation he could cause. And why wouldn't he? He had so much going for him, young, handsome, so commanding, so successful. She fell short on every level, and she couldn't spend her life waiting for him to leave her. That would make her the saddest person in the world.

"I just think that ultimately we'll want different things, we're in different places in our lives Maxim."

He stepped towards her, "the only place I am, is where I want to be...here with you. Why overcomplicate things?"

"Because I can't live in the moment, I can't be in the here and now. I don't work like that."

"You think that's what this is? That I'm interested in 'just today', because I don't work like that either."

She'd looked, last night when they got back from their date, looked him up on the internet, gorged herself on images of him, modelling and fighting...but then she'd seen the dozens of glamorous women he'd been photographed with. Film premiers, fashion events...even the Oscars.

How could she even begin to compare to that? She wasn't even able to walk in high heels.

"We are very different people." Was her answer, after all if a perfect model couldn't hold his attention, how could she?

Shaking his head, he stalked her across the kitchen, "you are right, for a start I am male...you are female. I don't understand your point."

She couldn't answer him, but she did need some space, some time. But as she opened her mouth to protest, he reached for her, pulled her into him then brought his lips to her cheek, "I want you...more than anything I've ever wanted before."

She felt as though she was drowning, but unlike her worst nightmares, she wasn't scared, it wasn't threatening, instead she leaned into him, met his kiss head on.

And her heart, her head...her whole body soared.

Maxim dragged her up to him, devoured her, ate her alive. And if there was a hint of regret, if there was a sign that she wanted to push him away, then he would. But she opened her mouth, thrust out her tongue, sucked him into her. Her full, rounded breasts were pressed up against his chest, her thighs straddled his. Every part of him was lined up with every part of her.

His lips left hers, drew a trail across her cheek, her jaw, her moans marked his journey.

"Is this ok?" he breathed as he reached her ear, nibbled at her ear lobe. He waited, desperately for a sign, and then she nodded, it was subtle, and he had to lift his head, meet her eyes once more. But then she nodded again, yes.

Pressing her up against the wall he lost his final restraint. His hands slid under her t-shirt, touched the soft and warm skin of her waist, spine. Her groans into his neck only spurred him on further, she tasted delicious, and he was growing harder by the second, his whole body was vibrating with need and desire.

His hands slid around her buttocks, and he lifted her off her feet, as she gasped he planted his lips on hers, then thrust himself between her thighs so that he could keep her elevated, level with him. That freed his hands, to slide up over her skin once again, lifting her t-shirt as he went, exposing more and more of her. When his thumbs touched the underside of her bra, the firm swell, he thought he might pass out with his longing.

As her legs wrapped around him pulling him even further into her, he slid his hands that last little bit, to cup her breasts.

"Shit!" She threw her head back, and he was rewarded with the elegant column of her neck to play with, whilst his hands got used to the weight and dimensions of the perfect lace clad breasts. But it was when he lifted his head and looked down at his hands that he shuddered, his dark hands against her pale skin, the pastel coloured lace of her bra, it was an exotic and erotic picture and he didn't want to forget that moment.

But it would only be a memory, as the second he attempted to lower his head, to connect to that inviting flesh, a pounding at the door disturbed them. Nicole reacted to the noise as though she'd been slapped, and Max felt as though he'd been doused in cold water. Not at the thought of being disturbed, but at the way Nicole pushed him away, straightened her clothes then rushed across the room towards the hallway.

He paused for a moment, needing to control his hormones; he hadn't felt this out of control since he was a teenager. Taking a deep breath, draining the glass of water he'd discarded in their passion. Then followed Nicole out in to the hallway. Then froze.

On the doorstep were two police officers, and as he approached, Nicole turned, "Vincent says I assaulted him."