Until the Last Breath

The volume of the music cranked up, people flooded the club with dollar bills and credit cards at the ready.

For the most part, I was busy so I paid Max little mind, but during the moments when we could catch a small break I felt him staring at me. Watching like a hawk.

I may have purposely worn a short black dress with the word Capri across the chest. The dress flaunted all my curves and a lot of my bosom. Emilia helped me curl my hair and do my makeup so I was pretty damn sexy that night.

It didn’t help that the men that came up to the bar flirted with me, and it damn sure didn’t help that raunchy, skanky girls came up to flirt with my boyfriend.

I did my best to ignore them as they leaned over the counter, batting their eyelashes and puckering their lips at him. Some reached over the counter to tuck the money into the front pocket of his shirt, some aiming to feel how big and strong he was.

He didn’t stop them, and when I happened to look in his direction, he actually held onto one of the girls’ wrists, whispering something in her ear. She giggled and blushed, pulling away slowly and picking up her drink. This was something he always did and it never bothered me before (he’d explained that this move always got him more service and tips) but that night it really, really pissed me off.

I watched her disappear within the flailing arms and gyrating bodies before looking at him. He was already looking at me, arms folded, a subtle smirk on his lips.

He winked.

I flipped him off, picking up a rag and cleaning off my area.

Something warm pressed on my backside seconds later and a voice filled my ear. “You’re mad?”

I turned around, meeting Max’s honey eyes. “Fuck off, Max.”

He wasn’t surprised by my response. Instead he reeled me in before I could get away and I crashed into his hard body. All I felt was abs and muscle. All I smelled was the heavenly scent of a man.

“You never wear dresses to work,” he informed me as if I didn’t know.

I shrugged. “I need to wash clothes. It was all I had left in my closet.”

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing at all.

“Guess what?” he asked.

“What?” I sighed.

“I got the key back,” he murmured in my ear.

I leaned back, tilting my chin to meet his eyes. “When?”

“Told her to meet me in the parking lot before my shift. When she met me, I told her, ‘Look, my girl isn’t happy about you still having a key to my place. I need it back if I want her back.”

I fought a smile. “You did not say that.”

“I did. She gave it back. It came along with some fussing and bitching about wasting gas, but I got it back.” He pulled it out of his pocket, dangling it in the air. I stared at it as if it were made of pure gold—like it was worth more than just a typical, manufactured key.

Max grabbed my hand, turned it over, and placed the key in my palm. “It’s yours now.”

I swallowed hard, whipping my head up to look at him. “Max—no, you don’t have to give it to me if you’re not ready—”

“I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life. If there’s anyone I want having a key to my home, it’s you.” His warm lips pressed to my cheek.

I clung to the key with a gleefully beating heart. I was excited, even though a part of me still wanted to be upset with him. This was all way too easy.

I needed him to work for me. So, like a petty girlfriend, I pulled away and turned to the customer walking up to the bar, asking him what he’d like.

I prepared the drinks and when the customer walked away, I looked at Max. “You don’t forgive me?” he asked, his voice loud enough to be heard over the dubstep music.

“Oh, I forgive you,” I said blatantly. “But you should know things aren’t as simple with me like they would be with all of the other girls you’ve dated. You aren’t winning with smooth talk. Not this time. That’s way too easy for you, Mister Grant.”

His head shook and dropped, and a silent laugh caused his body to vibrate.

“Hey! Excuse me!” A customer flagged Max down from his end of the bar. He smirked at me before going back to his corner.

I leaned against the counter, watching as he took a mental note of the guys order and then went to work, grabbing whiskey and other liquors.

He moved swiftly, effortlessly, like he’d done this most of his life. When the drinks were ready he took the money and went to the cash register, giving me a quick glance.