Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (electric book reader .TXT) 📗

It was closed off, revealing nothing. Just like its owner.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” asked Max hesitantly from behind her. She turned and found him standing several feet away, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable with having her in his space. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Maybe she should’ve just stayed with Lucian instead of encroaching on Max’s space. She wondered if his offer had been a token gesture, not something she was supposed to agree to.

“Um, some water would be good, thank you.” Her mouth and throat were dry, almost to the point of pain. He nodded and headed toward the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of expensive water imported from Iceland.

She took the bottle from him and sank down onto the couch. Now that she was truly safe, out of harm’s way, an echo of the sheer terror she’d experienced passed through her, and her hands started to shake. She tried to get the cap off the bottle, but couldn’t seem to get her hands to cooperate.

Max sat down beside her, perched on the edge of the couch, looking as though he was ready to leap away from her at any moment. Without asking, he took the bottle from her and opened it, then handed it back. She took a long drink, the cool water soothing her throat.

“Mmm. Tastes very Nordic,” she said, trying to smile. Her cheek twitched and then fell. Nope. She didn’t have it in her right now.

“Are you okay?” he asked and then closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, as though realizing what a stupid question that was.

“Not really, no,” she said, staring out at the twinkling skyline until her eyes went unfocused and everything blurred. “I thought I was going to die.” She turned to face him, his intense blue eyes crashing into hers. “I thought I was going to die.” Her voice cracked and broke on the last syllable and the sobs she’d been holding back burst out of her. Her body shook with the force of them, her eyes burning with hot tears. She sucked in a shuddering breath and then Max wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

Oh. Oh, God. Yes.

He leaned back against the couch, taking her with him as he held her against his broad chest, one hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head. She pressed her face into him, embarrassed that she was crying all over him but unable to stop and completely unwilling to pull away.

His hand rubbed a soothing path up and down her back, his heartbeat steady against her cheek. Anchoring her. Comforting her. Gradually, the wave of fear and the tears subsided, leaving her feeling wrung out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked once she’d calmed down, his voice rumbling in his chest and vibrating against her cheek.

She looked up, and God, his face was right there. The furrowed brow, the sharp blue eyes, the lips and jaw that looked like a sculptor had spent years on them. The small cleft in his chin. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead, curling slightly. His dark brown hair was wavy and thick, but she suspected that it was actually curly and he tamed it.

Just like he tamed and controlled everything in his life, it seemed.

“I was so scared,” she whispered. “All I kept thinking about was the people I’d never get to see again—my brother, my parents, my friends—and everything I wanted to do with my life. I kept seeing the morbid headlines about the murder of two women in a home invasion. I felt angry at everything they were about to take from me. I…” She trailed off, not finishing her thought. She’d been about to say I fought so fucking hard to survive six years ago that it’s not fair to have it end like this. But he didn’t know about the cancer and what she’d been through. It wasn’t something she talked about, and it wasn’t like she and Max were friends. He was her boss, not her buddy.

His gaze held hers, a pained expression on his face.

“If you hadn’t come, I’d be dead.” She swallowed, fresh tears stinging her eyes. “I’d be dead.”

“Willa,” he said, his voice low and rough. His mouth was pressed into a firm line, his nostrils flared. Seeking out more of the comfort he was offering, she laid her head on his chest again, timing her breaths with his heartbeat.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you,” he said quietly after several moments. There was something about the tone of his voice that had her lifting her head.

Their eyes locked, and her stomach flipped at the heat shining out at her from his gaze. “Willa,” he said again, sounding almost as though he were in pain. He lifted a hand, tracing his thumb along her jaw. “Willa.”

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as his eyes dropped to her mouth. Another tremble coursed through her, but it wasn’t because of what she’d been through that night.

It was because of what was about to happen.

With agonizing slowness, he lowered his mouth to hers, pressing a gentle, almost chaste kiss to her lips. She held completely still, shocked that he was kissing her. But bigger than the shock was her desire. Her need. Her lust for this man who she’d thought didn’t feel anything at all for her. He pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on her mouth, and she knew that he was giving her the chance to push him away. To say no.

When she didn’t, he lowered his face back down to hers, moving a little faster this time. When his lips touched hers, the hesitation was gone. This wasn’t a tentative kiss, not anymore. His lips were firm and warm against hers, and she sighed when he parted her lips with his tongue. The taste