Chapter 20 Fire in his eyes
Veronica's POV:
Then Max turned to face me, very slowly.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
His alluring, piercing blue eyes locked onto mine... and there was such an intensity in that gaze that I felt as if the world itself had stopped spinning.
My heart stumbled inside my chest... unsure if it wanted to race or stand still.
I couldn’t hold his stare for long... he was too much. Too intense like a fire that could burn.
So I let my eyes drop, gazed at the curve of his neck, where the edge of another tattoo peeked out from beneath his collarbone.
It was small compared to the phoenix on his back... just a black ink, looking simple yet beautiful.
Again... my hand moved on its own, my fingertips traced the dark lines that were on his pale skin.
He shuddered quietly under my touch, a quiet sound escaping his throat... which was part breath, part reaction.
“Is this… a compass?” I whispered, my voice came out soft, as if the wrong tone could make him vanish.
“Yeah,” he said finally, smiling slightly, strangely calm. “ This one was on my 17th birthday. Thought maybe if I inked a compass into my skin, it’d point me somewhere… somewhere that made sense. And I wouldn't feel lost. "
Then he let out a groan. “But it never did. I’m still as lost as the day I got it.”
Then silence fell between us after that... which wasn't an awkward one, just heavy with understanding.
Then, with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, he added, “ Still, it looks pretty damn good on me, doesn’t it? This one just makes me appear hot to the female gaze. "
He tilted his head, flashing a grin... the one that seemed both charming and infuriating at the same time.
I couldn’t help it.
I laughed. A real one this time... soft and breathless. “You’re unbelievable,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“Yeah, but you’re still standing here,” he said while wearing his usual 'bad-boy style' teasing attitude. "It means that you like me, isn't it?"
I didn’t even realize I’d moved so closer to him until I felt the heat of him... the solid warmth of his chest, the faint scent of whiskey and his masculine colonge.
Something inside me broke free from logic, from hesitation.
My arms moved like they had gotten their minds of their own and wrapped around his tattooed torso.
His skin was warm and literally burning me, and his heartbeat was now loud enough for me to hear.
Max went still for half a second, as if he couldn’t believe it.
Then he exhaled, long and deep, and his arms came around me too... which was strong, grounding, possessive.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
It was enough just to exist in that closeness... two broken people finding some kind of peace in each other’s chaos.
Then he tilted my chin up with his fingers, very gently but commanding.
His eyes searched mine, like he was looking for permission. I didn’t speak... didn’t need to.
And then, he kissed me.
There was nothing hesitant about it. It was rough and desperate, but not careless... the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t.
His lips pressed against mine, completely stealing my breath and giving me something else in return... a fire that burned away every thought, and every fear I had in my mind.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, and there was some kind of fire in his eyes which made me feel like I was completely recharged with some kind of electricity itself.
He was the one to pull away first... and it surprised me.
For a second, I stood there, breathless, confused by the sudden loss of warmth.
His arms dropped from around me, leaving a strange emptiness where his body had just been.
My fingers twitched at my sides, as if my heart hadn’t yet gotten the message that the moment was over.
He looked at me for a long beat, looking unreadable... and then let out a low, crooked laugh. “You know... if I hold you any longer, I’ll end up doing something… devious.”
The way he said that word 'devious'... in a deep, intense way, was making my insides burn.
Then his tone softened, the mischief fading into something real. “But I know you’re not that kind of girl.”
I blinked, unsure whether to breathe or blush. “What kind of girl am I then?”
He smiled faintly, tilting his head. “You’re the kind who wants the world to mean something. Who still believes in love, in flowers, in someone showing up for you when it matters? You’re not like those girls who come to me knowing I’ll leave by morning. You… you’re different.”
Different.
That word hit deeper than I expected.
But then another part of me... the hurt part, the skeptical part... rose to the surface. “Really?” I asked quietly. “Because that’s not what you said when we first met in that bar. You called me a gold-digger for being with Chase for three years."
For a moment, his expression froze.
Then he looked away, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I did say that.”
He looked back at me then. “I wanted to believe it,” he admitted. “I needed to. Because if I didn’t, then I’d have to admit that someone like you actually exists—someone who gives, even when the other person doesn't deserves it.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tense. “But now…” His gaze drifted over me, lingering as if I was something he couldn’t quite believe was real. “Now I can’t unsee you, Veronica. I can’t pretend you’re just another person passing through.”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re… getting under my skin. And trust me, I’m not used to that. I feel strange... feeling like this."
And there it was... the confession hidden inside his teasing. A hint of truth wrapped in his usual arrogance.
I didn’t know what to say.
So I just stood there, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay...