Me & Mine

55. Ghost of Christmas Past

[a/n] Important warning: this chapter will deal with brutal and disgusting things, such as domestic violence and attempted assault, so be warned. It is also one of the most important chapters in the book.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The room smells of him. The sheets and the pillows and even my own damn suitcase already smell of him. And he has only been in this room the five minutes it took for us to dump our suitcases here and decide that we could share a room as only friends.

Of course we can't. I know it and so does he. But it is Christmas, and I don't feel like fighting my feelings anymore. Dinner had been great. We had laughed and joked, and even though I am still pissed at Amory and Kane, for the sake of this vacation we had had fun. But it drained me, so I needed to lay down for a moment. Collect my thoughts, cage my feelings. I roll over on my back and stare at the ceiling. That stupid smell of him won't leave my nose. It is already dark outside, and from the window of our room I can see the twinkling lights of the town below us.

The door squeaks open and I hoist myself up against the headboard. Max smiles at me, the soft light of the hallway illuminating the contours of his body. "I thought I'd find you here," he says softly, closing the door and wrapping the room in the familiar dark glow of night again. I sigh and smile lightly, feeling the bed move under his weight as he hoists himself up against the headboard next to me.

"You ok?"

I nod softly. "Yeah," I breathe, "just tired. It was a long drive."

He chuckles and the sound makes the hairs on my skin stand upright. I am suddenly incredibly aware of the closeness of our bodies, of the proximity of his lips to my skin, his touch to my limbs, his eyes to my soul.

"And a long dinner," he whispers, "especially for someone pretending to be okay when they're clearly not."

I let my head fall back and turn to face him. "I'm okay, Max," I whisper. The faint glow of the lights outside reflect in his eyes. He nods softly and reaches for my hand. Electricity shoots through my entire body when his fingers intertwine with mine. My heart skips a beat and my lungs forget how to breath. Everything is on fire and I love the burn.

"I wasn't talking about you, love," he says softly, and my eyes find his again, "even though you and I both know you are far from okay."

I chuckle and plead my body to start working again. It refuses.

"Well," he sighs, "me too. I can't stand not being with you, love, and I hate that I can't be what you need right now."

I inch closer to him and let my head rest against his shoulder. It's warm and familiar and home. "You are," I whisper, "you are exactly what I need right now."

He kisses my forehead and grunts softly. I feel his muscles tense and his hand leaves mine. I look up to him and his eyes are dark with desire. I stop breathing again, my heart thumping against my ribcage in anticipation. But he doesn't make a move. Instead he grins sheepishly again and sighs.

"Get dressed," he says, slowly arching away from me, "I need to take you somewhere."

***

The cold night air cuts my skin, but I don't care. With my gloved hand tightly wrapped in Max' and the soft crunch of snow beneath my feet, my heart finally starts to find its rhythm again. We make our way through the thick cover of trees and bushes that circle the villa and hike up the hill. Max turns to look at me and smiles. He pulls me closer to him and I let myself fall against his chest, the sensation of our bodies touching burns through the layers of thick clothing between us. His eyes twinkle and that devious smirk graces his lips. He turns me around, my back pressed firmly against his chest, and he lowers his head. His lips are just a breath away from my neck, the thrill of his exhale tickling my earlobe in all the right places.