My Sweet Bully

“Okay, fine, but only down to the floor.” I agree to let him help me. His smile broke me instantly.

When he shows that little bit of himself, giving me a hint that there’s more to him he’s keeping inside, I can’t say no.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, he scoops his hands under my thighs and pulls my legs around his waist. And with that movement, I smile. A soft and light smile.

Max can’t see, he doesn’t know it’s there, and he’ll never know how this smile goes deeper than just my lips.

I feel it in my muscles and in my veins. I feel it as his fingers wrap my legs, and my chest is pressed firmly against his hard, muscular back.

I feel my smile as it reaches between my ribs and around my chest, until it finally hits my heart.

Max carries me down to the gym floor, setting me down gently between the two sets of bleachers. Dropping to his knees, he looks up at me as he takes my ankle in his hand and pushes up my jeans. He unties my sneaker, slipping my shoe off my foot very gingerly.

The room seems to be getting hotter. I’m sweating, my heart is racing, and it’s getting hard for me to breathe. There’s something so sensual about this moment. About how tender he’s being, how delicate, like I’m a brittle piece of porcelain he’s afraid is going to crumble with his touch.

I’m wet. Just his touch to see if I’m all right is making me drip. “I’m fine, really, I just twisted it a little. I need to walk it off, it’s no big deal.” Clenching my thighs, my panties are hot and sticky.

Damn it! Not now, not here!

His fingertips massage with firm, wide circles as his eyes stay on mine. “Yeah, well, I know a thing or two about sprains. When I was a kid, if I got hurt, or my brother got hurt, we had to take care of each other.”

I watch him as he examines my leg, running the very tip of his finger over my ankle and across the top of my foot. His touch tickles slightly, but it burns more. My body is reacting in ways I’ve never felt before.

I can’t control the speed of my heart. I can’t control the flutter in my belly or the rush of tingles as they sweep up my legs and across my torso. His eyes meet mine and I wonder if he’s feeling the slamming of my pulse.

“So, you have a brother, I know that. But, what about the rest of your family? Mom? Dad? What do they do?”

Did I see any of them at the courthouse?

I’m racking my brain, trying to picture who his parents were. I don’t remember anyone crying or weeping in the courtroom for either of the boys. They must have been there though, angry, full of hatred that I was pointing out their children as arsonists to a judge.

“Well,” he says, dropping his eyes back to my foot as he picks up my shoe and starts to put it back on for me. “My father is a mechanic, my only brother is in prison, and my mother is dead.” Finishing off the bow of my lace, he stands back up. “I think you’re going to live. It’s not broken.” He tries to laugh, but it sounds fake. Running his hand through his hair, he lets his gaze shift over my face.

His mom is dead. . . The words sit there for a second as my brain slowly begins to process what they mean.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I had no idea.”

Holy shit, I really did ruin his life.

This immense feeling of guilt and sadness consumes me suddenly. I destroyed his family. A family that had already lost one, was now down another.

And it’s all my fault.

Max cocks a brow as he stares at me. I can see it in his eyes, he’s not sure why I’m apologizing.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I tug it firmly against my scalp. “I’m such an asshole, I completely destroyed your family. This is all my fault, Max, all of this is my fault.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Prairie—”

Cutting him off, I take an awkward, unbalanced step backwards. “But it’s the truth. You already lost your mom, and then I get your brother taken away on you. He’s locked up behind bars, no wonder you hate me. . .” Tears bubble up on my lids as I ramble. Blinking, a single tear breaks free, slipping down my cheek. “If I had just denied being there, if I had just looked the other way, or lied—I could have lied. And your brother wouldn’t be in prison right now. I. . . I’m—”

His lips press against mine out of nowhere, and I suck in a surprised breath. His mouth is soft, just as delicate as his fingers, but there’s a strength in his lips, a passion that causes my heart to stop for a full beat.