Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 235

Olivia’s POV

I must have fallen asleep in the chair because I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and someone watching me.

Maxwell.

His eyes were open, clear now, fixed on me with that familiar intensity.

I sat up quickly, wincing at the crick in my neck. My hand went automatically to my mouth, wiping away any drool.

"How are you feeling?" My voice came out rough with sleep.

He smiled - like actually smiled. "I’m fine."

"You don’t look fine. You look like someone who got stabbed and then stitched back together by a pediatrician in a hotel room."

"Accurate assessment."

"What happened to you?" I leaned forward. "Who did this?"

Maxwell’s expression darkened. "I was robbed. Outside the hotel. Stupid, really. I went out for a walk to clear my head, took a shortcut through an alley I shouldn’t have."

Before he could continue, there was a knock at the door.

Kennedy burst in, Gabriel right behind him.

"Gabriel said you were - Jesus Christ, Max!" Kennedy rushed to the bed. "What the hell happened?"

"Robbery," Maxwell repeated. "Like I was just telling Olivia. I went out late last night. Needed air. Took a wrong turn and ended up in an alley near the shopping district." He grimaced. "Three guys. They wanted my wallet, my watch, my phone. I fought back. Stupid move."

"Did you see their faces?" Kennedy demanded.

"Not clearly. It was dark. They were wearing masks - just cloth over their faces. One of them had a knife. I managed to get away, but not before he got a good slice in."

"Did you report it to the police?" Gabriel asked.

"No. I just wanted to get back here."

"To Olivia’s room?" Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

Maxwell met his gaze steadily. "It was closer than mine."

Kennedy and Gabriel exchanged a look.

"We need to check the hotel cameras," Kennedy said. "Get footage of these guys. Make sure they’re caught before they hurt someone else."

"Agreed," Gabriel added. "This is serious, Maxwell. You could have died."

"But I didn’t." Maxwell’s tone was dismissive. "I’m fine now."

"You’re not fine. You’re stitched up and lucky to be alive." Kennedy stood. "Come on, Gabriel. Let’s go talk to hotel security. See what we can find."

They headed for the door, but Kennedy paused, looking back at me. "You okay, Liv?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Once they were gone, silence filled the room.

Maxwell broke it first. "I’m thirsty."

I stood immediately, grateful for something to do. "I’ll get you water."

I grabbed a bottle from the mini-fridge and brought it back, helping him sit up enough to drink without straining his stitches.

He took a long swallow, then his eyes traveled down my body.

A slow smile spread across his face. "You know, you look incredibly sexy covered in my blood."

I looked down and realized I was still wearing the blood-soaked nightgown. The red silk was now stained dark, clinging to my skin in places where the blood had dried.

"Oh my God." Heat flooded my face. "I’m a mess."

"A beautiful mess."

"You’re hurt and wounded and you’re still finding time to tease me?"

"Some habits die hard." His eyes were dark with something that wasn’t just pain. "Especially when the view is this good."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I’m going to shower. I’ll be right back."

"Take your time. I’m not going anywhere."

I headed to the bathroom. As I was about to only close the door, I thought better of it and bolted it shut.

I didn’t trust Maxwell. Not even injured and barely able to move.

The shower was heavenly. I scrubbed away the blood, the fear, the exhaustion, letting the hot water wash everything down the drain.

When I emerged in my robe, I found Maxwell watching me from the bed, his eyes tracking my every movement.

I ignored him and grabbed casual beachwear from my suitcase - denim shorts and a loose white tank top.

I could feel his eyes on me as I changed, even through the robe.

Finally dressed, I turned to face him. "Are you strong enough to go back to your room? I’ll need my privacy. I want to sleep."

"You can sleep on the bed." His smile was lazy. "I don’t bite."

"That’s highly debatable."

"I’m too weak to stand anyway." He gestured vaguely at his bandaged torso. "Looks like we’ll have to share for now."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"Completely serious."

"Fine. Then I’ll go to your room instead." I moved toward him. "Give me your room card."

"I don’t think I have it on me."

"Yes, you do. Where is it?" I started patting his trouser pockets, searching. "It has to be somewhere..."

Maxwell just lay there, that infuriating smile playing at his lips, enjoying every second of my hands on him.

"Are you getting any warmer?" he murmured.

"Shut up."

My fingers finally closed around the plastic card in his front pocket. "Got it!"

I pulled it out and checked the room number.

Right next to mine.

I froze, staring at the number. "Your room is next to mine?"

"Funny how that worked out."

"How convenient," I said flatly.

I didn’t wait around to ask how he’d managed that. Didn’t want to know. I just headed for the door, card in hand.

Freedom. Finally.

I stepped out into the hallway, walked the three steps to his door, swiped the card, and pushed it open.

The room was identical to mine - same layout, same furnishings, just mirrored.

I stepped inside, already planning where I’d sleep, how I’d finally get some space...

And then I heard it.

Footsteps behind me.

I spun around.

Maxwell stood in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other pressed to his bandaged side. He was breathing hard, his face pale, but he was standing. Walking.

"What are you doing?!" I stepped toward him. "You’re supposed to be resting!"

"Changed my mind." He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a definitive click. "If you’re sleeping here, so am I."

"Maxwell..."

"It’s my room, isn’t it?"

"You can barely stand!"

"I’m standing just fine." He took another step toward me, and despite the pain clearly etched on his face, there was something predatory in the movement. "Besides, you’re right. We should share this room instead. It’s cleaner. No blood."

I backed up instinctively. "You need to rest. You need to..."

My back hit the wall.

Maxwell stopped just inches away, one hand coming up to rest on the wall beside my head. His other hand still pressed against his wound, but his eyes were completely focused. Completely aware.

"I almost died tonight," he said quietly. "You know what I thought about? In that alley, bleeding out, thinking I might not make it back?"

I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

"You. I thought about you."