Lovers at Heart (The Bradens, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Twenty-Three, Lovers at Heart

Chapter Twenty-Three

NOTHING IN HIS life had ever given Treat the ceaseless feeling of happiness as taking care of Max for the last hour had. He could feel her tension releasing in every breath she took, in the way her eyes rode at half-mast, and the slow waning of her anger, replaced with a contented haze. Everything about Max was sublime, and as much as his body cried out for her, sex wasn’t what he craved. This closeness was enough. If they did nothing else tonight, he would be sated.

The bubbles dissipated and the water cooled. Max moved closer to him, stealing his warmth, and as much as he hated to move, he wanted her warm and safe in his bed.

“Let me dry you off, sweetness.”

She moved as if she were half asleep, her slender arms reaching for him as she stood. Treat helped her step from the tub and wrapped her in a thick towel, then took another towel and gently patted her dry. He moved from her neck and shoulders to her arms, remembering the way his heart ached the first time he’d set eyes on her and how the unfamiliar emotion had frightened him. Now he understood the emotion, and the only fear he had was of not being the man Max wanted him to be—the man she deserved. In order to do that, he needed to learn about her insecurities, her dreams.

Treat was every bit an alpha male, from his height and strength to his desire to protect, but never had anyone incited his protective reflexes as strongly as his family had—until he met Max. When that first emotion had hit him, it had shaken him to his core, and he hadn’t known how to handle the impulses. Now, as he knelt before Max, wiping the water from her body, he knew just what to do. He embraced those impulses. He would protect Max’s heart with simple acts of kindness and love. The only nagging doubt of allowing himself to fully open up and love her, and to let her love him in return, was the worry caused by his mother’s death, and he was working on that. He kept his father’s words close to remind him to let those fears go. Your mama didn’t die because of our love for each other.

He was surprised when Max reached for his neck, wanting him to carry her to the bedroom. He knew the first time he’d carried her from the car that she might fight him. She was strong and self-sufficient, and she was proud of that. The woman he was carrying to his bed never failed to surprise him—even the way she went from intense sexuality to full-on fear showed her strength. Most women would have continued making love, rationalized their minds out of ending the intimacy. In his experience, most women feared losing the men in their lives. Max wasn’t anything like most women.

He drew back the covers with one hand and laid her on the clean sheets, then grabbed one of his clean T-shirts from his dresser.

“I’m just going to put this on you, sweetness.” He slid the shirt over her head and smoothed it down almost to her knees. Damn, she looked adorable and sexy all at once.

Treat slipped into a pair of boxer briefs, then brought the candles from the bathroom and placed them on the slate in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. He lay beside Max, leaning on one elbow so he could take care of whatever she needed.

“Why are you so good to me?” Max asked.

“Because you deserve it.”

“I’m pretty drunk,” she admitted.

“That’s okay. I’m not. I won’t let you take advantage of me.” He rubbed his fingers lightly across her forehead, and she closed her eyes.

“Mmm. That feels so good.”

“Good,” he whispered. The last thing he wanted to do was break the trusting mood of his bedroom. He’d thought about what she’d look like in his bed too many times to count, and he knew bringing up the hurt of when he’d left Allure so quickly might cause her to run again, but he couldn’t take the chance of not talking things through—because of how badly that had backfired last time.