Fake Fiancée(48)

“Max!” she called.

My hand dug into her hips. It felt like we’d done this a million times. I could do it a million more. “So fucking good with you . . .” I breathed as I pounded into her and came hard. My back arched, basking in the sharp pleasure, and I continued to pump, my cock barely softening, still aching to feel encased inside her.

A few more spine-tingling strokes, and I pulled out, my breathing out of control. My hand caressed down the base of her spine. The moon had risen higher, the light showing tiny scars on her back around her shoulder blades and the center of her back. I counted ten or so. I inhaled sharply, battling, aching to ask her, but she turned over to face me, her face soft. She was beautiful . . . the moment was beautiful. I didn’t want to ruin it with a bad memory. Those marks would be a conversation for another time. I kissed her and eased down next to her, our limbs entangling as she snuggled into my side. Time passed but we hardly noticed, our hands clinging to each other.

I held her tight and thanked the stars I’d found her.



An hour passed. Maybe another one. Honestly, I lost track while holding her. With as much care as I could, I eased out of her arms and padded over to my jeans where I pulled out my phone. Two in the morning. I rubbed my head.

I headed back over to her and kissed her awake. She blinked up at me and I grinned. “Morning, Cookie. We gotta get out of here.”

She nodded and dressed. We pushed the shelves to the window, bracing them with other shelves. It was sturdy enough that I had no qualms about climbing it. Sure, I could have tried to just get service to call the campus police to come unlock the door, but this was easy stuff.

I got to the top of the shelving, put my hand down for her to grasp, and heaved her up step-by-step. Once she made it to the top, I shimmied through the window and then helped her come through with as much care as I could.

Watching her get to her feet, I saw the ugly bruise on the side of her head again. My mouth tightened.

I put an arm around her, and we walked toward my car in the parking lot.

“You’re angry,” she said as she rubbed her arms in the October air.

I nodded. “I just keep wondering who would do this to you. What if they’d tried to hurt you or even set the place on fire? It’s fucking insane.” I pulled out my phone. “I’m going to call campus police. You okay with talking to them?”

She nodded.

The police dispatcher answered, and I gave them the rundown of what had happened. I told them we didn’t need an ambulance but would need to file a report. They told me a unit was en route to take our statements.

Her eyebrows knitted as we waited for them to arrive. “Do you think it was Bianca?”

I thought about it. “She’s got a mouth on her, but to actually do something so full of malice? I can’t see it.”

Her lips tightened. “She’ll do whatever she has to get you back.”

I didn’t buy it. Unless Felix had been behind it. “Maybe it was Bart and he got some girl to do it.”

She shook her head. “He might be a liar, but he’d never do this. I always felt safe with Bart—even when he was angry in class that first day. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Because he still fucking loved her, I thought. I pushed away how insecure that made me feel.

I sighed. “Then we’re back to square one. Maybe the police can check the cameras and figure it out.”

She nodded, and I tried to play it cool, but worry pricked at me. First the daisy thing and now this—what was next? The thought of anyone trying to mess with her drove me nuts. “Maybe you should resign from your library job.” I tapped my hand against my thigh, thinking. “Once football is over, I can keep my eye on you more, but right now . . .” I stopped. Feeling frustrated. Shit. I was hardly ever home. How was I going to watch over her?

“I appreciate you being worried for me, but I can’t quit my job. I can take care of myself . . . alone. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

We stared at each other in the cool parking lot as a range of emotions flitted across her face. I couldn’t read them.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, grasping her hands in mine. Since the moment we’d come out of the basement, I sensed that somehow I’d disappointed her.

Sadness flickered in her eyes. “The past.”

“Don’t judge me by Bart, Sunny. It isn’t fair.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’m not judging you by him anymore. It’s not that. It’s just you have this big future. You’re you and—” she cut her words off and swallowed, shaking her head. “I’m scared. I can’t handle my heart being broken again, Max. I just can’t.”

“You’re the only girl on my mind right now. You.” I eased over to her, tilted her face up, and pressed my lips to her still swollen ones.

She nodded still looking uncertain, but I let it go. I had other things I wanted to talk about. I leaned against my SUV and laced our fingers together. “Will you tell me about the scars on your back? Was it your dad? It’s just . . . Isabella said something once, and last night . . . they didn’t bother me,” I assured her softly. “They’re beautiful. They’re you.”

She bit her lip and nodded, staring at the ground. “My father . . . he changed after my mom died. He . . . he wanted to control me and make sure I didn’t turn out like her. He lashed me with a belt and the buckle left scars. It only happened a few times—but the last time, I knew I couldn’t stay anymore. I came to live with Mimi.” She paused, her hands twisting. “He didn’t ruin me—I want you to know that. I don’t even hate him . . . I think. He was so in love with my mom, and when she left us and then died—it ripped his whole world apart.”