Page 42 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“I know what it’s like to lie to yourself,” I insist, ignoring the warning in his tone. “To crave an escape. You wanted to destroy your brother. I… I wanted to destroy myself.”
Suddenly, he captures my wrist and extends it for his inspection. Something, in particular, draws his interest, making him stiffen, a curse on his lips. It’s a nasty scratch, stretching the width of my forearm, still weeping fresh beads of blood. “Do not tell me that what happened with Vadim caused this…”
I frown at the sudden seriousness of his tone. “No.” But it’s not like a fresh wound is an unusual occurrence between us. Then it hits me—he thinks I did it to myself.
“These have lessened,” he points out as if reading my mind again. His thumb travels down my arm, grazing over countless healed scars and weeks-old scabs. “Since you’ve been with me. Did you think I didn’t notice them?”
I wrack my brain, surprised that he might be right. Apart from a few nicks from my nails, I haven’t hurt myself the way I used to. Not with a knife or razor. Not with my teeth.
“You enjoy pain,” he says carefully. “But it wasn’t until I noticed these—” he fingers another old injury of mine. “That I understood why. You crave the release of it.”
“And what do you get out of it?” I counter, though I think I’ve finally deciphered the real answer on my own.
His mouth twitches, part grimace, part frown. “Pleasure.”
A lie.
I can put the pieces together, even if the picture they make terrifies the shit out of me. One example comes to mind.
“You made me kneel for you.” I brush my free hand along his forearm, sensing the power lurking beneath the healed, scarred flesh. “When you whipped me. You made me kneel. Like your grandfather made you—”
“Don’t.Please.” He shakes his head, his teeth gritted. He’s quiet for a moment. “I do not take for granted what you give to me. What no one else could, you do—” he returns his attention to the scratch. “But I don’t want you seeking control out of fear.”
“I didn’t hurt myself,” I admit. “Ainsley scratched me by accident. She’s afraid.”
“I know.” He shifts, stiffening against me. “I will do everything in my power to prevent what happened from happening again.”
“But you can’t, can you?”
He doesn’t respond.
“She’s a little girl.” My voice breaks. “She doesn’t deserve to grow up afraid.”
“I can make her happy,” he counters. “Happier than today—all of them. I can keep you content. You can keep me sane.”
“Is that what you really want?” It sounds like yet another way of phrasing the give and take of our entire relationship.
“I want understanding with you,” he corrects. “No more mincing words. I want you on my side.”
“As a partner?”
“Or a lover.”
My cheeks burn at the raw heat in his tone. “You don’t normally talk like this.”
He returns his gaze to the view, eyeing it blankly, unimpressed. “You weren’t listening before. Maybe this language will convince you?”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“At night, you give me what I need. And by day…” His eyes rove slowly to my face. “I give you what you want.”
And what is that?
He doesn’t say, but a few options come to mind. A Maxim who talks. An open Maxim. And unfiltered Maxim.
An unrestrained Maxim.
“What are you thinking?” His thumb slips beneath my chin, lifting it. So rich and deep, his eyes seem to stare right through me, impossible to escape.
“I’m wondering…how you’ll indulge without traumatizing my family if we’re all staying in the same house.” Mikie’s right. He’s no idiot.
“Is that all?” Maxim’s mouth quirks, and it’s like the world fucking falters. “I have two methods in mind that should work in tandem.”
Something warns me not to ask what they are. Not yet.
“But as for today?” He reaches out, grasping my hand. Raising it to his mouth, he brushes his lips along my knuckles, inhaling deeply all the while. “I will do nothing to alarm your family. You can trust me on that.”
And I think I can.
At least for now.
