Nicole

 

I couldn’t get there fast enough. It seemed like every ounce of traffic in California had been working to prevent me from returning to that Malibu neighborhood—I worried I wouldn’t even recognize it, that they’d all look the same and I’d be hopelessly and utterly lost. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Really, traffic wasn’t bad, especially considering how it had been the first few hours when we’d arrived. But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to be concerned with things like “relatively speaking” and “in all fairness” and “if you really think about it, you’re lucky it’s this good.” All I could think was, I’m not going to get there in time.

 

So when I finally pulled into the Malibu neighborhood, the one I was pretty sure was the right one, I felt only tight anxiety surging through me instead of relief. I sped through the residential roads, speeding way too fast and not caring one little bit. I searched each house I passed, trying to find the one I had run from so desperately not very long ago, but it was hard. They all really did look the same and I hadn’t been looking back, only forward, determined to get the hell away from that horrible place.

 

Now, I wished I’d been scared, or maybe brave, enough to look back, even once, to make sure I knew where I was going now.

 

Hindsight might be twenty-twenty, but foresight never seemed to be.

 

I was searching the streets and houses, trying to find any identifying or familiar markings to let me know I’d finally found the right place, when I spotted him. A large man in dark jeans and a t-shirt, blood splattered across his clothes and his skin, gun gripped in one hand. His blond hair was rumpled and wild, his eyes were bright with anger and intensity and victory. And he was running away from a large mansion that seemed to have jumped into a sudden flurry of activity not far behind him. No one was chasing after him exactly, but they were doing something.

 

My foot slammed down onto the brakes harshly, crushing them to the floorboard, and causing the car to come to a screeching halt along the side of the road.

 

Maxwell didn’t pause, didn’t stop running, but I saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise just before they pulled down into a deep frown. He didn’t look happy to see me and it hurt my heart just a little bit.

 

Leaning over, I popped the car door open for him.

 

When he got close enough that he was standing right outside of the door, leaning down so he could see me clearly, I felt my heart ache. He looked terrible. Worn and rumpled, stressed and tired, and covered in blood. “Oh my god, are you okay? What happened? Get in! Oh my god, are you hurt? Were you shot? Jesus, they shot you, didn’t they? Do we need to go to the hospital? Fuck! Get in already!”

 

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t help it. He looked so much worse close up. Still large and strong, sexy despite the grime and coating of blood, but I couldn’t ignore the potential of him being seriously injured just because I still thought he was fucking sexy.

 

He slid into the car quietly, then slammed the door after him. He was still frowning, staring at me with a mixture of anger and…something else. Something I wasn’t sure of.

 

“It’s not mine,” he told me finally, grimly.

 

Normally, a statement like that would have sent me running in the other direction as fast as humanly possible, but things were different now. I knew exactly what kind of men had been in that house and I knew they were awful, terrible. I knew they deserved whatever they got. So I didn’t press it. Instead I just said, “Let’s get out of here.”

 

I put the car in gear and we tore out of there, fast enough to squeal the tires and leave black marks of burnt rubber on the road.

 

We hadn’t been driving for more than a minute before Maxwell turned to me. His bright eyes, alight with passion and danger and adrenaline, focused on me, so intense I thought they might set me on fire. My whole body responded to his nearness, to him being in the seat next to me. My heart hammered in my chest, my breathing shallow and quick. So much had happened in just twenty-four hours, not to mention the week leading up to it, that I wasn’t sure how I had managed to not have a heart attack yet, but as things were going, I thought that time might be coming anyway.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked the question as I rounded the corner, going up the street I was pretty sure would take us to the highway and far, far away from Malibu and that goddamned stupid mansion.

 

Startled by the heat and anger in his voice, I looked over at him—he was still frowning—before jerking my gaze back to the road ahead of me. I didn’t answer him until we pulled out into traffic.

 

“I had to,” I finally answered him, my voice stronger and more certain than I was expecting.

 

“You had to,” he repeated. “Are you out of your mind? What was possibly so damn important that you had to—”

 

But he didn’t finish his question. I interrupted quickly, decisively. “You.”

 

“Me?”

 

Now his frown had slipped. He looked confused, bewildered even, as though he couldn’t figure out what I was trying to tell him. Like it was some kind of a riddle that had him stumped.

 

I smiled a little at it, then blushed. Even so, I managed to get the words out, firm and confident, things I had been trying and maybe failing to be lately. “I love you, Maxwell. I came back because I love you.”

 

He stared at me for a long time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for there, because he sat back into his seat, letting his head lull against the rest, and sighed deeply.

 

He was asleep in moments, and I didn’t mind it. I let him sleep as I drove us out of the area until it got dark. Then I pulled into a small motel, nothing fancy, but decent. And the most important part of it was that it was far, far away from Malibu.

 

We were in the middle of the desert by this point. There wasn’t much in the small town we’d stopped in, but I didn’t care. I’d had enough of the traffic and the danger and the city. This little town, in that moment, was like heaven to me.

 

I was reluctant to wake Maxwell up; he’d slept the entire way and seemed like he needed it. But since we were here, I thought he might appreciate a bed more anyway, so I shook him by the shoulders until we woke.

 

As soon as his eyes opened, the touch became electric. Our gazes locked and the intensity in his, so soon after waking, made my breath catch.

 

“We…we’re here. I mean, at a motel. For the night. Since it’s dark.” I was rambling and must have sounded idiotic, but I couldn’t seem to think clearly as I looked deeply into his eyes, getting lost in them.

 

Finally, he seemed to wake up more and let a smile slide across his face. “Time to get up, then.”

 

I nodded and we both got out of the car. I took the time to stretch, grateful to be standing instead of sitting, especially since I’d been driving the whole way. It felt good to stretch out my stiff limbs and I indulged in it, which was why I didn’t see Maxwell coming.

 

He came up behind me and before I even knew what was happening, he’d scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, and carried me towards our room. I let out a little squeal, girlish and feathery light.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked with a breathless laugh. It felt good to be in his arms. It felt safe.

 

He grinned at me and there was no denying the heat in that look. “I wanted to do this right.”

 

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What right?”

 

“Our wedding night.”

 

My expression softened, turning to one of love and affection. I didn’t know what to say.

 

Before I could think of something, he told me softly, sweetly, “I love you, Nicole. I think I have for a while now.”

 

And then he unlocked the door to our room, kicking it closed behind us with his foot. It was a basic room, TV table, chair, bathroom, and most importantly in that moment, bed. A king-sized bed.

 

He laid me on it softly and, as my back slid onto the mattress, he kissed me with all the desire I could handle, and maybe more. I sighed into it, drinking him in, needy and wanting. His hands found the hem of my shirt before I could clear my head enough to think about how many clothes we were wearing and how many we clearly needed to take off before we could press our naked bodies together.

 

But his hand reminded me of that and I let out a whimper-moan into his open mouth. I felt him smile as he continued to kiss me, just barely laughing at my response to him. Challenging his laugh, I jerked my hips upwards into him, sliding them along his crotch. I felt him tense and groan into my mouth, making me pretty damn pleased with myself.

 

Things heated up quickly from there. My shirt was all but ripped off, causing us to break the kiss—which was a good idea anyway, since we were both starving for air. I took the opportunity to jerk his shirt up, too, my hands roaming over the hard, cut muscles of his abdomen and chest. They tensed beneath my touch, firm and hot and oh so delicious. I leaned up to place an open-mouthed kiss against his chest, right above his heart. He groaned above me, encouraging me. My hands moved down then, trailing over those rock-hard muscles to find the low slung waistband of his jeans. I undid the button of them quickly as I continued to pepper his chest with hot, wanting kisses.

 

I was about to go for his zipper when his hands grabbed me by the wrists, stilling my movements.

 

Surprised, I looked up at him. I saw desire flash in his eyes, his gaze devouring me whole. “Not yet,” he growled at me, the depth of his voice causing a shiver to travel the length of my body only to finally pool in liquid heat between my thighs.

 

Oh, I wanted him.

 

“Please,” I begged him, unashamed and needy.

 

He smirked at my plea, slowly and carefully raising my wrists and pushing me back into the mattress at the same time. I let him, unconcerned, even as he pinned my wrists above my head, moving his hands so he had both of my wrists gripped in just one of his large hands.

 

“I promised you a proper wedding night, didn’t I?” he whispered to me darkly, and I shivered again, my hips jerking up of their own accord.

 

He leaned forward to place hot, wet, open mouthed kisses at my neck and my shoulders, along my collarbones and in the hollow of my neck. His lips were plush and hot, the softest part of his cut body. Though it was torture, I loved every second of his slow, teasing pace. I felt his kisses as they traveled between my breasts and along the edge of my bra, his tongue slipping over the top of my breasts to wet the hot flesh there.

 

I moaned and squirmed and begged the entire time, enjoying his caresses even as they drove me towards madness.

 

“Please!” I called for him.

 

He ignored me as his mouth traveled lower and lower, dipping past my breasts and down along the line of my abdomen. His tongue slipped around my belly button before sliding down lower. When it found the edge of my jeans—which I desperately wanted off—I felt his teeth graze the skin, causing me to let out a heavy gasp of pleasure.

 

“Oh!”

 

By this point, he finally had to release my wrists if only to get access to the rest of my body. I wouldn’t have known how truly frustrated he was if it weren’t for the too eager movements of his deft fingers as they undid the remainder of my clothing. I had to sit up so he could slip my bra off, my breasts slipping out and my nipples hardening at the sudden air caressing them. He growled and nipped at them briefly. He was too preoccupied with getting me completely naked to linger on them.

 

He jerked my pants off, taking my panties with them, and finally I was naked. I’d sat up to help him, but now that I was bare before him, he pushed me back forcefully so I fell onto the mattress. His hands came to me and spread my thighs open, exposing my heated core to his hungry gaze.

 

He licked me once, kissed my lips like he might kiss my mouth, and I was lost. I bucked into him, urging him forward, begging silently—and maybe vocally, too—for more.

 

The invitation wasn’t lost on him and his pants were gone suddenly. I eyed him, indulged in his thick member, watched it as he settled between my spread legs. He leaned over me, lining himself up and matching his eyes to mine. I looked into his eyes as he slid inside me and then I was lost.

 

He began slowly, sliding inch by inch into me until I was so full of him that it was all I could focus on. Then he slid back out only to start the movement all over again. I urged him forward again with my hips, my thighs quivering with desire as he took his time with me. And I wanted more and more. He obliged and thrust into me deeply. I let out a cry of pleasure, my arms wrapping around his neck and clutching him tightly to my body, my breasts pressing tightly to his hard chest.

 

His rhythm increased and I worked hard to match it, undulating beneath him. He was beginning to shake and I knew he was getting closer to his release. That was why he moved his arm so he could slide his hand between us, one of his thick fingers slipping between my lips just above my core where he continued to thrust within me.

 

I cried out when he found my bundle of nerves, pleasure shooting through me like a drug. “Please, yes!” I cried.

 

“Nicole, babe,” he breathed, panting above me. “I won’t last long, but please, I need you to come for me.”

 

At the pleading tone in his voice and the measured, pulsing rhythm of his finger, I obliged him. My orgasm washed over me and I barely even noticed as he found his own release right along with me.

 

He slumped, catching himself just barely on his arms so he wouldn’t collapse on top of me. Carefully, he rolled over, falling to the side of me on the mattress. Then, still panting, he reached for me. He held me, despite our sweating, exhausted bodies. He caressed my face, my hair, my lips. Then his eyes found mine and he whispered exhaustedly, but contentedly, “I love you, Nicole. And I’m going to keep you.”

 

I smiled and relaxed against him.

 

We fell asleep that way, my body and heart in agreement that he was what I wanted in my life, whatever trouble might come with it. This was worth it.