He releases my hand and strides across the small cabin to the kitchen area. While he fills a small pot with water and sets to boiling it, I can’t help but stare at him. I remember Judge Rowe from the trial. He’d worn the same skeptical expression the entire time. His chiseled jaw would clench and unclench but his lips remained pressed together. The distaste he had for my ex warmed me. Everyone loves Carson. Even my father loved him. And for that, he paid dearly. The fact that this judge didn’t like him had me feeling like, for the first time in forever, someone else could see what a monster Carson was behind the brilliant white smile and perfect suits.
Judge Rowe lifts his gaze from the stove and his intense green eyes meet mine. He gives me a small smile before he flickers his attention back to his task. His shoulders are broad beneath his suit and I admire his physique. It’s been a long time since I felt remotely interested in a man. Carson ruined that for me. So, I thought. But as awareness prickles through me, I can’t help but admit my attraction to the jaw carved from stone and sharp features of the man who saved me. His black hair is stylish for his age and the only indication that he’s much older than me are the few greys at his temples and the tiny crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.
He’s incredibly handsome.
But best of all, he feels safe.
The tension that always has me in its clutches releases its grip. I look down at my silly uniform and frown. I’d do anything right about now for my favorite fleece pajama bottoms and oversized T-shirt. The waitress job at club Orj-E was just another job on an endless list of ones I didn’t want but needed to survive.
“It’s not my specialty but it’ll have to do,” Judge Rowe says as he sets a steaming bowl of Ramen noodles in front of me on the coffee table.
A smile plays at my lips and God how it feels foreign. I certainly don’t smile much these days. “Thank you. How’d you know beef flavor was my favorite?”
He smirks my way before heading toward a closet door. “It’s everyone’s favorite.” I watch as he shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a hanger. His back muscles make the fabric of his white dress shirt bulge. I find my gaze drifting to his ass in his charcoal colored slacks. Damn, Judge Rowe has it going on.
“Here,” he says as he pulls out some folded clothes and turns to me. “You might feel more comfortable in these.” His gaze drops to my breasts for a moment before he looks away. My flesh heats because I can’t say I didn’t like his attention on my cleavage.
I stand and take the clothes from him. Our fingers brush against one another and jolts of awareness skitter through me straight to my core that’s been slumbering for months. “Thank you.” Quickly, I change in the restroom and free my hair from the ponytail. The big white T-shirt and sweatpants are close enough to my comfy pajamas from home. When I exit the bathroom, I’m surprised to see he’s untucked his shirt, taken off his shoes, and lost the tie. He looks comfortable and that makes me feel comfortable. I sit beside him on the sofa and start eating the Ramen. After a long shift on my feet, I’m as close to heaven as I could possibly get.
“So tell me about Carson,” he says, his voice low.
And…I’m back in hell.
“What do you want to know?” I slurp down the noodles and frown at him.
“How do you know him?”
I suck down some more noodles before setting the bowl back down. “He worked for my father. Carson was CFO of Dresser Holdings.”
Understanding washes over him. “I’m sorry about your father then, Miss Dresser.”
Bitter tears well in my eyes but I quickly blink them away. “Thank you, Judge.”
He reaches forward and pats my knee. I’ve known him all of an hour and he’s touched me more than I’ve allowed anyone in the last few months. I’m not even weirded out by his affectionate nature, which surprises me. I don’t like people. Especially men. And here I am cozied up in a cabin with the judge who presided over my hated ex-boyfriend’s case as if we’re best buds.
“Max.”
“What?”
“Max Rowe. You don’t have to call me Judge.” His lips quirk up on one side. Sexy. Endearing. Flirtatious. It’s been so long since anyone has flirted with me in a harmless way. In a way that I don’t feel they’re out to get me or to get inside my pants.
“You look like a Max,” I say, a small smile escaping.
My smile seems to infect him because he beams at me. Max Rowe is beautiful when he smiles. Heat floods through me and I suddenly wish I had something cold to drink.
“He hurt you.” His words come out as a statement and we both sober up. When his thumb brushes across my scarred cheekbone, I close my eyes and relish the tender touch.
“So many times.”
When his thumb brushes across my bottom lip, I open my eyes in surprise and find myself snared in his intense stare. “How could anyone want to hurt you?” His brows furrow together as if he’s genuinely confused by this notion.
I’m overcome with emotion and a choked sob escapes me. His kindness and affection draws me in. I crave it. After having been denied it for so long, I want to cling to it. As if sensing my need, he wraps his arms around me to draw me in for a hug. I meet him halfway and then some as I move into his lap, my legs straddling his waist so I can get closer. He strokes my hair in a sweet way as I cry against his neck. Our hearts are pounding in our chests that are pressed together.
“Shhh,” he coos. “You’re safe now.”
And I feel it down to my bones.
This feeling isn’t one I’m accustomed to.
Always running and hiding and evading Carson while somehow trying to hold on to what shreds of my old life that are still within reach.
With my lips hovering over his flesh, I blurt out my sob story. One that tells of a young woman who fell hopelessly in love with her father’s employee. A woman who allowed this man to control her every word and action. She fell into his trap and never could seem to claw her way out. He destroyed everything in her world, including her father. Ripped apart her father’s legacy from the inside out as he swindled money from the company and brought it to its knees. I tell Max a story of a girl who had to find her father blue and bloated from an overdose because he couldn’t take the fact that his company had been driven into the ground. And the perpetrator got away scot-free because he was well-loved in the community and really good at hiding his trail of destruction. Behind closed doors, he was a monster. A rapist. A man who hit his woman because he could. It wasn’t until the trial where he was found not guilty that she found the courage to run from him.
She’s been running ever since.
He squeezes me tighter. I haven’t told anyone about Carson. They wouldn’t believe me anyways. But this man does believe me. I feel it down to my toes as he strokes my hair and promises justice.
Eventually, I stop crying and his hands come to rest at my ass. It’s far from sexual but my body becomes aware of our nearness. The attraction I’d felt earlier flares back to life and my body seems to overheat. My nerves thrum with excitement. I want him to move his palms up under my shirt and touch my flesh.
You never realize how much you need to be touched until you haven’t been. Now, it’s all I can think about.
“Thank you for believing me. For saving me from him tonight…” I trail off and shudder. Had Max not intervened, Carson would have hurt me again. Like always. Each time I fear it will be the last. One day he won’t be able to hold back and he’ll end me. I just know it.
Max’s powerful hands thread into my hair and he pulls me slightly away from him so he can look at me. His green eyes blaze with possessiveness. But it isn’t a need to overpower like it was with Carson. With Max, his eyes seem to scream that he’ll do whatever it takes to protect me. I don’t understand this connection between us—foreign and strong—but I like it.
“I believed you that day in the courtroom and I didn’t even know your story,” he says, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
Kiss me.
My thought comes so suddenly, I’m embarrassed by it.
I lick my lips, in a way hoping it will entice him. I’m disappointed when he drops his palms down to my hips. But for once, I’m brave. I’m not afraid. Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his soft ones.
“Dorian…” he mutters against my mouth, his grip on my hips tightening. “You’ve had a long night.”
I tentatively cup his scruffy cheeks in my palms and deepen our kiss. When our tongues brush against each other, he lets out a pleased groan. It gives me the courage to kiss him harder. My desperation bleeds into our kiss. I sense his own neediness as his thumbs rub circles over my shirt just below my hips and close enough to my sex to have me mewling. He’s hard beneath me and I can tell he’s rather large. To be sure, I adjust my body so that I can rub against him. This makes both of us hiss in pleasure. His grip on me becomes almost brutal as he guides my hips so that I’m grinding against him.
Our kiss doesn’t last long because just as soon as it’s started, he’s pulling me away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his brows furrowing.
I can’t stop staring at his strong, masculine mouth. Wondering what the five o’clock shadow would feel like between my thighs. Heat creeps up my neck giving my dirty thoughts away.
“Sorry for what?”
Instead of answering, he’s gentle as he picks me up and plops me down beside him. “Want to help roll out the sofa?” I’m disappointed but give him a nod.
I stand and together we move the table and pull out the couch into a bed. We put the bedding on it and I’m just crawling onto it when I notice him making a pallet on the floor.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Max,” I tell him, pointing at the bed beside me. “We’re adults. You don’t have to sleep on the floor to protect my virtue.”
His shoulders relax and he flashes me another one of his handsome grins. “I am too old to be getting on the floor.”
“Old?” I snort as I slip under the covers. “Hardly.”
He unbuttons his dress shirt and tosses it on the chair. The wife beater he’s wearing is molded to his body. His belt slips from the hoops with a swoosh that has me shivering as more dirty thoughts ripple through me. He leaves his slacks on much to my dismay.
“Seriously. How old are you anyway?”
Embarrassment causes his face to redden slightly. “Fifty-two.” His palm rubs at the back of his neck giving me a delicious view of his veiny forearm that’s muscular and tanned. When he looks up at me under his dark lashes, a shy, boyish grin on his handsome face, my heart rate quickens. “See? Old.”
Same age as my dad. Color me shocked. He’s far more built than Carson, who is fifteen years his junior, ever was. Max is like Hugh Jackman—talk about getting better with age. “You look good.”
He jerks his head my way and smiles. “Thanks.” His mouth twitches as if he wants to say more but he refrains and turns off all the lights. The moment the bed dips and his manly scent envelops me, I crave to touch him.
Why am I such a creep with this man?
There’s mutual attraction here though. I’m not imagining it. I certainly didn’t imagine his tongue in my mouth and how hard he was when we kissed.
I start to ask him if I can scoot closer but then I harness the same bravery I’d latched onto earlier. Instead of asking, I snuggle up against him. My palm slides up his chest and I rest my thigh on top of his. He doesn’t push away but instead positions me so that my head rests on his shoulder and his arm is wrapped around me.
Safe.
The word pops up inside of me again, suddenly and without warning.
Max Rowe isn’t a monster like Carson.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to make some calls,” he says, his voice low and velvety in the darkness.
My heart patters. “Yeah?”
“It pisses me off this asshole has hurt you and continues to hurt you. I’m going to make sure we nail him for something. Sheriff McMahon is a good buddy of mine. I’ll call him first.”
Hope blossoms inside of me. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to help you get your life back, Dorian.”