Page 22 of Stolen Vows

I pause outside her room before I head inside, gathering myself as best I can.

Come on, Max. You can do this. No woman has ever gotten under your skin like this before. You’re not going to let her start now.

"Max, is that you?”

Cara’s voice drifts out from inside the bedroom, putting cold water on whatever attempt I might have been making to control myself. I grit my teeth, and push open the door all the way, stepping inside with breakfast for her. It’s not much—toast, eggs, orange juice—but it’s the best I can do while I’m waiting for my father to send out one of his men with supplies.

“Morning,” she says, like we didn’t cross almost every line three nights ago. Like she doesn’t still taste sweet on my tongue. I grunt and set the tray down like a soldier delivering rations—not breakfast in bed.

As though a second has gone by without me thinking of it since.

"You don’t want to join me for breakfast?” she asks, and I shoot a look at her.

"This isn’t room service with a side of friendly conversation, Cara."

"I know," she replies, lifting her chin to look at me. "But I’m getting bored in here all alone. Least you can do is give me some company."

There is something in her words that tells me this is a challenge, but it’s not one I’m entirely sure I’m ready for, at least not yet. I can still remember, with crystal clarity, how good her pussy tasted, the pulsations of her clit beneath my tongue, and being this close to her is flooding my memory with the sensory input that nearly drove me to make a choice I knew I would never have been able to come back from.

I go to make a move for the door, but, before I can, her hand shoots out to catch my arm. I glance over at her, and I can see some genuine pain in her eyes. She’s not just trying to get me alone, though that is part of it. She actually wants someone with her, and I don’t know if I have it in me to turn my back on her right now.

"Please, Max," she whispers. "I— I don’t like being alone."

I tug my arm from her grip, opting to lean against the doorframe while she eats her breakfast. The distance between us should grant me some safety from the power of her eyes on mine, the smell of her skin filling my senses, at least for a little while. She begins to pick at her food, her delicate fingers tearing off a few pieces of toast before she pops them into her mouth.

"I thought you’d enjoy your own company," I remark without thinking. She stares at me for a moment, looking surprised.

"Why?"

I pause for a moment. I don’t know if I should tell her just how much of her life I am aware of. How many details I’ve learned in the process of trying to bring her father down. But I’ve seen how few people come and go from that mansion he calls home, and I know she doesn’t have a lot of friends visiting, to say the least.

I shrug.

"Seems like your father kept most people out of your life, where he could."

She picks at a loose thread on the covers for a moment.

"Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I don’t like being alone," she replies. "Too much time with my own thoughts. Doesn’t do anyone any good."

I manage a small snort.

"Yeah, I’m with you on that one," I reply.

Her face brightens as soon as she hears me say that. I've been doing my level best to put as much distance between us as possible the last few days, ever since my slip-up, but she has been jumping on every chance she gets to try and connect with me. Part of me feels bad for even letting her get her hopes up.

"You spend a lot of time alone?”

"No."

"Family? Friends?”

"Family, mostly," I reply, finally giving up on trying to keep her at arm’s length. It's clear that she’s not going to stop pepperingme with questions at any chance she gets, and it’s easier to just give her something than it is to brush her off.

"You have siblings, right?”

"Yeah. I see more of my youngest sister, though."

"God, I always wished I had siblings," she sighs, as she reaches for her orange juice. "I always thought life would be easier to handle if I had siblings. Especially a brother."

---