Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) by T. Gephart

see Max’s face pinked and covered in red welts, his lips puffy from swelling. It wasn’t as hideous as the scream had probably implied, I just hated the perfection of his face marred with the welts. Knowing I had caused it was even worse. His it’s okays tried to reassure me even though it was him who needed help.
    I couldn’t even offer to drive him home. Not that I actually knew how to drive a stick shift, but I would have worked it out. Hopefully before leaving his transmission on the side of the road. But we didn’t even get that far, my blood alcohol well above the legal limit courtesy of one or two too many refills on my wine.
    Thank God—clearly I had found a renewed faith in religion—we were parked in the undercover garage soon after. The small mercy that Christina’s and the drug store had been within blocks of our apartments.
    The car stalled to a stop, with the ordeal hopefully coming to an end as well as I ran around to the driver’s side and helped Max out of his seat.
    “I’m fine.” He’d tried to reassure me for the five millionth time while I clung to him with one hand and the paper bag with enough Benadryl to take down an elephant in the other. Max was a lot of things, fine was not one of them right now.
    “No, I got you into this mess, I need to fix it.” Or at least implement some damage control. I still wasn’t convinced we shouldn’t be heading to an emergency room, my fingers ready to hit 9-1-1 at any second. I was already hyperventilating at his refusal to take the meds before we got home, if I’d had my way I’d have shoved them down his throat earlier.
    “It’s not that bad, I’m not going to die. I promise.” Max laughed.
    He laughed.
    Like I hadn’t just tried to poison him under the guise of sweet creamy goodness. What’s worse is it was for my own selfish reasons. There was sure to be a special place in hell for people like me.
    Thankfully I didn’t have to deal with any more judgment or evil stares, bypassing the lobby and heading directly to his penthouse. Once inside the elevator I let go of my grip on him as I tore into the paper bag, the bottle of water and boxes of drugs spilling onto the floor as we continued to climb.
    “Shit!” I sunk to my knees snatching the packs and the bottle. His ever-present grin widening as I got back on my feet.
    If this wasn’t such a life and death—his assurances it wasn’t hadn’t convinced me—situation I’d assume that smile was less innocent, me on my knees in front of him. Although it was probably only my own sick perverted mind that would think something sexual at a time like this. I swear I’m not a bad person.
    My fingers fumbled with the stupid child-resistant foil backing while I tried to pry the pills from the box’s clutches. The elevator opening before I was able to complete my operation.
    “You know the allergy hasn’t made me incapacitated.” He held out his hand’s offering to lighten my load. No need, I had this. Or at least I hoped I had this. The paper bag that had given me so much trouble shoved under my arm so I could better deal with this ridiculous packaging.
    “No, no, it’s cool.” I stepped out of the elevator, nodding my head repeatedly like an idiot, Max following close behind.
    Success! Those pesky pills finally coming loose, popping into my hand as we walked to his door. And not a moment too soon, his hesitation to take them before we reached home because he had to drive and they made him drowsy.
    “Take these.” I shoved pills into his mouth without warning, his eyeballs opening wide at my hand against his mouth.
    “Water.” He choked, clutching at his throat.
    Shit. I knew I’d forgotten something, the bottle of water I’d retrieved from the elevator floor returned to the bag where it stayed, not helping. My fingers quickly twisted the cap and pushed the lip of the bottle against his mouth, the water flowing quickly as he swallowed.
    At this point I can safely say that I can