Page 140 of All the Forbidden Things

His eyes, which were almost devoid of light and life when he first arrived back at the hotel are now brimming with heat and hope.

“You love me, Bamm?”

I lean in and kiss each of his cheeks, the really soft bits not covered by whiskers. My kisses trail a path to his right ear, where I whisper. “I’ve loved you most of my life.”

Moving back so I can look down at the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, I kiss his nose. “I have a confession,” I tell him.

“You’re horny and want my cock buried balls deep inside you?”

“I do want that, but first, I need to tell you something.”

“So tell me, then we can get to the buried balls deep part.”

“Before Andy Garcia, before Marley Layton or Doctor Kovac, there was you. You were my first crush, it’s always been you, Max Young—”

I don’t get time to say anymore. His mouth crashes into mine as he stands with me wrapped around him.

“Shit!” He mumbles as he walks into the coffee table and I hear the wine glasses go crashing.

I land on the bed, Max comes down on top of me, but he doesn’t stay there. He stands and allows his eyes to rake over me.

“I don’t know when we’ll get this again, Bamm, so I’m going to fuck you all night. I’m just not sure if I want to start by worshiping every inch of you or fucking you senseless.”

He’s taking off his shirt as he talks. Giving up on the buttons when only half are undone, he pulls it over his head. I sit up, ready to unbutton his suit trousers, but he pushes me back down.

“Hands to yourself, I’m in charge tonight.”

I bite down on my bottom lip and smile, but it’s all a lie and when his eyes meet mine again, my resolve, the façade I’ve portrayed vanishes, and a sob escapes me.

Scooping me up, Max climbs onto the bed and sits with his back against the headboard and holds me against him as I cry.

“I hate this. It’s breaking my fucking heart,” he says into my hair.

“My hearts more than broken. It feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest and shredded.”

My stomach hurts as I heave out sobs. A sensation like pins and needles travels through my entire body, my scalp prickles, and I feel cold as the harsh reality of our situation hits me.

I don’t want to be without him, not for any length of time, but right now, we don’t have many choices. Layla has to be our priority.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and attempt to pull myself together. I’ve survived worse than this, and I refuse to fall apart now. I will not give Whitney that power.

“You go on tour next year. We could meet up, have clandestine meetings in random hotel rooms. I could wear my khaki beanie and sunglasses, no one would know it’s me.”

“Do you promise to be waiting for me naked … wearing nothing but the beanie?”

“That can be arranged.”

“Then I’m all about the clandestine shit.”

“You’re going to Australia next year. I have family there. I can visit at the same time, we could randomly meet up.”

“Your brother’s in the band, Bamm, we have an excuse for your presence right there.”

“See, we can make this work Max. I’ve survived a suicide bomber and a crazy, drunk American, I refuse to let that bitch beat me.”

He moves me away from him, and brushes my messy hair from my face, as his eyes dance all over it.

“Do you know how much I fucking love you?” He asks, his voice low and gravely. Despite my tears, a shudder moves through me.