I pulled my mouth back from hers, infuriated. Enraged. She was breathing heavily, her eyes glassy with tears.
“Please, Maxx. Don’t do it. Be here. With me,” she begged. And then she was kissing me again, and she was telling me “I won’t leave you. I won’t ever leave you.”
And there was something about those words and the feel of her lips on mine that broke through the red haze of my anger, the inconsolable need that plagued me.
She wouldn’t leave me.
How could she know how desperate I was to hear that from her? From anybody?
And then I was kissing her back. Devouring her as though she were the drugs I hungered for. And for that brief moment she was something even better.
“Don’t leave me,” I sobbed against her mouth, my teeth bruising her lips as I punished her with my tongue. I meant it with every fiber of my being. I couldn’t survive without her. What a terrifying thought that was. But it was the honest-to-god truth. In that split second she had become the most vital thing in my world. She was the thing that could keep me sane. Keep me here. Keep me from diving off the cliff after the drugs my body wanted so badly.
She was the string holding me together. She was the only person to stay by my side even when I hadn’t asked her to. I hadn’t demanded a thing of her, yet she had given me everything. How could I not latch on to that like a parasite? How could I not try to suck every last drop out of her to keep myself alive?
How could I not begin to live in a fanciful delusion where she would be all that I needed and everything would be okay?
But she wouldn’t leave me. Those words held a promise I’d cling to.
The kiss began as the pinnacle of every hateful emotion, every negative, self-loathing thought. It wasn’t hearts and flowers and skipping through the sunshine. This was soul-filled angst shit that no one should ever want but delusional people chase after anyway.
But somewhere, somehow, it morphed into something else entirely. Aubrey took control and gentled the kiss. Her lips softened, her tongue an inviting caress. Her fingers curled into my greasy, filthy hair as though she never wanted to touch anything else ever again.
And then I wasn’t assaulting her mouth but worshipping it. Loving it. Tasting and enjoying it.
I knew I needed Aubrey. I needed her in the worst way possible. I was selfish and frantic, and I honestly didn’t care if I took her to hell with me because she would make the trip the sweetest thing I had ever experienced.
She was mine.
And I’d never let her go.
Chapter nineteen
aubrey
two days.
That’s how long I had spent with Maxx at his apartment.
It was two days since I had driven him home after he had been beaten nearly to death at Compulsion.
It was two days since he had lost his mind as he went through the most intense and agonizing withdrawal I could ever imagine.
Two days, and my life had changed completely.
The shower was running. It was thirty minutes since Maxx had gone into the bathroom to clean up after I had forced him to eat some soup and bread. He had looked a sickly green after swallowing my less-than-palatable attempt at cooking, but he had kept it down.
We had done very little talking after I had kissed him. I don’t know why I had done that. It was such a stupid thing to do. My only excuse was that I had been at my wits’ end and terrified of the crazed glint in his eyes, as he demanded that I give him his drugs.
His withdrawal was bad. I knew that without ever having seen one firsthand before. I had read enough case studies to know that he was feeling the worst kind of physical and mental pain imaginable. His cravings had to be unreal.
And there were definitely moments when I didn’t doubt he’d hurt me to get what his body wanted so desperately.
But I stayed. Because I cared too much for the messed-up boy and his f**ked-up life to ever walk away.
So while he had been railing against me, hurling threats that I was all too sure he’d keep, I had used the only weapon in my arsenal. My mouth and my hands.
And it had worked.
Well, sort of.
I’m by no means proclaiming a miracle. This wasn’t some sort of cheesy romance where the love of a good woman saved the boy from his demons.
If only it were that easy.
But my actions had shocked him. They had stayed the nastiness spewing from his lips. He hadn’t expected me to do that.
And afterward, it wasn’t as though we had fallen into each other’s arms and hugged while I told him everything would be all right.
Nope. Maxx had taken the bowl of soup and started eating. He hadn’t looked at me. No eye contact was made. No mention of feelings or futures. But damn it, he was eating.
And that small success was enough.
“Christ!” I heard Maxx yell from the bathroom. I jumped off the couch, where I had stationed myself like a sentry, waiting for him to emerge. I knocked on the door.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
The door swung open as steam rolled out into the living room. I tried not to fixate on the fact that Maxx wore only a towel draped around his narrow hips. His chest, while not overly muscular, was defined. He was tall. Much taller than me. So my eyes were at just the right height to get a good, long look at the lean body in front of me.
My gaze traveled up to Maxx’s battered face. His blond curls were slicked back, and his one good eye was glinting in anger.
“What the f**k happened to my face?” he demanded.
Maxx’s fingers touched the red, raw skin on his face. He winced, a hissing breath sucked through teeth.
“I followed you to the back of the club and found you getting your butt kicked by two guys,” I told him.
Maxx’s shoulders tensed. “What did they look like?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or scared. Maybe it was a combination of the two.
I tried to remember his assailants, but the memory was fuzzy after forty-eight hours of very minimal sleep. My instinct had been to help Maxx, not to identify the guys who had hurt him.
“I don’t remember much about them. It was dark. I was focused on you bleeding all over the place. Sorry,” I muttered.
“How in the hell did you get me home? There’s no way you were able to drag me to your car by yourself,” he continued. Why did I feel like I was being interrogated? Where was the thank-you?
“Some guy helped me. I recognized him from working the front door,” I offered shortly, annoyed with his curtness.
“Marco,” he prompted. Yeah, Marco. That sounded right, so I nodded.
Maxx pushed past me and walked to his bedroom. He was still weak, his steps slow and clumsy. I followed him and froze.