Page 48 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
This definitely isn’t the worst state I’ve been in after a night with him. As the seconds tick by, I’m faced with the possibility that his hesitation has nothing to do with my soreness at all. Finally, his fingers still.
“Last night may not have been ideal,” he starts, “but if you are satisfied with this arrangement, we can continue in this way from now on.”
Normalcy for the kids by day, kink for him at night.
I lift my head and scan the stretch of beach until I spot where the kids have made camp. They fan out, darting from the waves to the shore.
“It could work,” I say cautiously. “As long as Ainsley doesn’t wake up from a nightmare and barge into the bedroom.”
What I intend as a joke seems to have the opposite effect.
“Good.” He stands, his hands held awkwardly at his sides. “We should go join the others—”
“But can we discuss the rules at least? Boundaries?” I can’t forget how he looked last night. Closed-off. Isolated. “If we are to do this.Reallydo this, then I need to know what we keep in the room and what stays out.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully and sits back down. “Some things… My past—” His gaze clouds over, distant. “That stays in the room.”
The things he can’t talk about. Such as Anatoli’s abuse or his way of coping with it.
For a second, I wonder if it’s worth arguing over—demanding to know more. But then I look at him. He’s stiff, glowering at the ocean as if seeing hell where most people would only see paradise. There’s so much about him I don’t know, but maybe it’s not my place to force him to reveal what he’s not ready to.
“What about sex?”
He frowns, and I have his attention again. His fingers cross the distance between us, stopping short of my hip. The simple act conveys the power harnessed by him always. “In the room, I will have control.”
“And outside of it?”
“Outside…” As he mulls over the question, he sweeps his hand along my thigh. There’s no possession in this action. Just touching. Feeling. “Does my kitten crave another taste of vanilla?”
I look away, my cheeks on fire. Do I? Sex with him is one thing when pain is involved—mind-blowing. But without, like what happened in the shed?
It’s a different taste entirely. One I’m not sure I want to write off exploring.
“Hmph.” Maxim hooks his finger beneath my chin, coaxing me to face him. “I will admit that I am not familiar with this. Being…domestic.” His accent thickens as though it’s a dirty word.
The sinful, unknown kind of dirty—the way someone might sound describing his peculiar tastes. Taboo.
“I suppose that outside of the room, you may decide…” He trails off, seemingly unable to finish the thought. Outside of the room, I could potentially have control.
Over him.
It sounds too fucking good to be true.
“Really?”
“If it is necessary to your normalcy,” he counters.
“So, during the day, I can touch you when I want to?” I rise up onto my knees, shifting to face him.
Dare I say he looks…curious. My heart jumps, rebounding off my ribcage.
“Touch?” he questions softly.
“Like this…” My fingers shake as I unfurl them one by one. When I brace my hand over his chest, he doesn’t flinch. Emboldened, I undo the buttons of his shirt, and he shrugs his shoulders to help me remove it. Observing him this way is an experience unlike any other. I take my time, determined to savor every second.
His scars look ten times more grotesque in broad daylight. Beautiful too. I finger one, aware of his gaze tracking my every movement. Leaning forward, I press my lips against the most abused piece of flesh.
A low rasp catches in his throat. “You want to touch me in this way?” He sounds so amused by the prospect. As though any warm-blooded woman wouldn’t crave a chance to appreciate his body.
