by Julia London
“Are you sure? Because you seem pretty damn good at this to me,” he said, gesturing between them, and crawled over her, forcing her back against the pillows. “Would you like to set some ground rules?” he asked as his gaze skimmed over her and settled on her mouth.
“Do we need ground rules?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable,” Carly assured him. “I’m more than comfortable. I’m totally into—”
Max suddenly kissed her, silencing her before she could spiral into some long-winded explanation of how she never did this sort of thing, but if she was going to do this sort of thing, she wanted to do it with him. Right now. But Max kissed her back into the headspace she’d occupied when she’d stepped out of her car and had seen him, and she was suddenly back to wanting him in the worst way.
When he lifted his head, he kissed the bridge of her nose and said, “Okay?”
“Let’s do this,” she said, maybe a little too sternly. She took his head in her hands and pulled him down and kissed him and decided, the moment her lips touched his, that she was going for broke. She was going to enjoy the hell out of this, because it had been a minute since she’d had sex, and she was not going to overthink it, she was not going to burden herself with rules. She was liberated.
Eew! Too much like Mom!
Okay, she was a modern woman who asked for what she wanted!
Much better.
She was going to go for it, all right, but first, she had to figure out which way was up and which way was down, because Max’s hands and lips were all over her and she’d lost touch with where she was in space. His touch was warm and heavy and very arousing. She felt glittery and weightless. She pushed against him, trying to roll him onto his back. Max grunted and resisted her, but Carly leveraged him with her knee and managed to push him onto his back and crawled on top of him.
Max opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said, as if trying to figure out the road map.
“I’m going for it,” Carly announced.
“Great. So am I.” He resumed his caress of her, kissing her in that way that sent her tumbling through some intoxicating space before sinking down into a cloud of sensation and pleasure.
At one point, she tried to remove her sweater, so anxious was she to feel his hands on her skin. But her efforts knocked her off-balance, and she had to catch herself with a palm to his chest.
Max grunted, reached for her sweater, and yanked it over her head. He tossed it aside and cupped her breasts, then kissed her neck at the point where it curved into her shoulder.
It felt as if thousands of fireflies flared through her blood. She shoved at his chest and forced him to lie down, crawled on top of him, and pressed her body the full length of him.
“Look,” Max said, and reached behind her and unhooked her bra. “We have to remove some of this clothing if we’re going to really go for it.” He suddenly surged upward and flipped her on her back again. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a moment to move things along here.”
She realized, even as he spoke, he was kicking out of his pants.
“Agreed,” she said, and kicked out of hers, too. And then he was kissing her again, and somehow, they managed to remove their clothes while he kissed her in all the spots that made her sizzle.
And then he slipped his hand into her panties.
Carly closed her eyes. “Wow. Okay. This is amazing.”
He whispered in her ear, “You’re amazing.”
And that was it, all the talking that was going to happen for the next several minutes, because Carly was floating above the earth on some pleasurable little raft, being pushed and pulled, following the trail of his hands and his lips, spinning faster and faster toward release. His attention to her was a bubbling concoction of warm bare skin and soft lips, and it was all mixing in her, building into a surreal little eddy. This would live with her forever and, holy cow, how had she gone so long without this delicious, earthy activity in her life?
They floated along, kissing and stroking and sliding and sighing. It was twinkly and fiery, it was tender and rough—it was magic. It was all the physical sensations and emotions wrapped into a frothy peak miles high.
Max suddenly sat up and groped around the nightstand next to the bed, producing a condom. Carly sat up, too, and dragged her fingers through his hair, then nibbled his shoulder. “Hurry,” she murmured.
A moment later, he pulled her into his body as he slipped in between her legs. He paused, braced above her, and brushed away a strand of hair that draped across her face, and without a word, he entered her.
Carly pitched forward into the sensation, pressing into him, moving with him, losing herself in the sensations he was arousing in her. He caressed her as he moved, slow and fluid, his mouth on hers. Her heart beat at a clip that left her breathless. Her body strained for his, and she caressed his arms and his back, urging him to quicken his stroke. The blur of pure sensation—of touch and smell, of length and breadth—made her wild beneath him, rocking against him, striving for release. Max muttered something and grabbed one of her hands and laced his fingers with hers. He was moving quickly now, pushing her off the cliff. And when she fell, Carly went with a cry of release and gratification, the desire she’d contained for months and months finally spilling out of her.
Max gave in, too, thrusting powerfully into her one last time with a moan against her shoulder.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, panting like she’d run a marathon, but Max’s voice woke her from the fog. “Way to go for it,” he said.
She giggled. “Way to bring it home.”
Max lifted his head and gazed at her with an expression that made Carly’s heart skip. The regard reflected in his lovely expressive eyes seemed fathoms deep. She was pretty sure there was some sexual liberation shining in there, too. And maybe a hint of surprise and romantic desire, as well.
Oh, but she was feeling all the same things in her. That had felt good. It was the best she’d felt in weeks. Months! A very long time.
He grinned and rolled onto his back, then took her hand into his. “You know what? I never liked Brant so much as I do right now.”
She laughed. “I was going to kill him, but now I think we should invite him to dinner.”
Max stroked her cheek, his gaze soft and adoring.
Carly felt vibrant and sexy and she could stay in this bed for the rest of her life as long as this drop-dead gorgeous man continued to look at her as he was at this very moment. How had she gotten so lucky? How had her yin fit so well with his yang? How had . . .
“Wait,” she said. “What is that noise?”
Max kissed her temple. “That is the sound of two dogs sniffing after us.”
Carly sat up. At the bottom of the closed door she could see the shadows of a lot of paws.
“They aren’t going to let up,” Max said. “Should we let them in?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Carly said.
Max slid off the bed and walked in his gloriously naked form to the door. When he opened it, two basset hounds raced as best they could for the bed. With a squeal, Carly dug in under the covers. Hazel made it up onto the bed in one leap. Max had to help Baxter. After they painted her face with doggie kisses, the two dogs settled at the end of the bed as if it was theirs.
Max pulled on a pair of sweats. “Want some cold pizza?” he asked.
Carly looked at the dogs. Then at him. There were so many emotions swirling in her, filling her up. She smiled.
Max smiled back, and there were a thousand different shades of wonder and happiness in his smile.
“Hell, yes, I want some pizza,” she said, and began to fluff the pillows at her back.
Fifteen
Max and Carly were snug in a pillow fort, eating leftover piz
za straight out of the fridge, and every so often, pushing a curious dog away. They talked about everything. Carly told him about her last job and how she was laid off. She told him about her parents’ divorce and how crazy they were acting now, and how her sister had some unsubstantiated theory that their parents were still totally into each other.
For his part, Max told her about losing his mother and how he’d lucked into his house. How he’d taken Hazel from a professor who was transferring and didn’t have room for a dog.
They talked about trips they’d taken. Close friends. Sports they loved. Places they wanted to see. It felt good. It felt natural. Max was pretty sure there was no one else he would rather eat cold pizza with while naked in bed. One day, he would have a son, and his son would ask him what was life, and Max would tell him this. This was life. This is what made every day worth getting up for.
“This thing with you has been a very pleasant surprise,” he said, after they’d exhausted all the important topics.
“It’s fantastic,” she said, through a mouthful of pizza. “This must be what winning the Mega Millions lottery feels like.” She tossed down the end crust. “What’s that?” she asked, and indicated with her chin as she picked up another slice.
Max looked across his room. On the wall next to a chair, he’d tacked some of the calculations and lab results he’d run as part of his research. “That,” he said, “is my rehearsal for my presentation of my tenure dossier to the committee.”
“Oh,” she said, looking at him with bright eyes. “Like, in an auditorium?”
“In a conference room. It’s not a lot of people—the committee members, the department head, and . . . well, the other professor up for tenure.”
“The professor with the amazing research?”
“Yep, the one with the amazing research.” He sighed. “She’ll be there to see my presentation. And I’ll see hers.”
Carly chewed thoughtfully a moment. “That seems kind of brutal, to be honest. If it were me, I’d be obsessing more over what my competition thought of my presentation than the actual committee.”
“You have no idea,” Max muttered, his gaze still on his graphs and charts.
Carly giggled. “Really? Why?”
Funny, but there was no hesitation in him to tell her the truth. “My situation is particularly awkward. I didn’t know I had any competition until recently, and I only found out because of a unique situation.”
“What, did she fly a plane with one of those message banners across the sky?”
“Not quite.” Max laced his fingers with hers. “The thing is . . . we sort of hooked up one night.”
Carly stilled. Her brows rose, and for a moment he thought he’d blown it. But then she burst into laughter. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t gales of laughter. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you don’t seem the type, Max. Like, not at all.”
“I’m not. I’m not for all the reasons I’m not great at dating. But, you know, it was one of those things—we had a couple of drinks, too many drinks, and she said we were being too scientisty, which I took to mean we were overthinking it, and one thing led to another, and, okay, yeah, it happened. And it was . . . it got the job done,” he said, and felt himself blush a little. “But the next morning?” He shook his head. “It was obvious that neither of us was going to use the occasion as a jumping-off point to anything else, and I was hungover and miserable, and I didn’t know how to get out of it, but then she said that it was really a bad idea because she was up for tenure. That was the first I knew there was anyone else up for tenure this year. She didn’t know, either.”
Carly gasped. “No! Oh my God, Max—that’s unbelievable!” She laughed again. “I’m so sorry! I’m not being insensitive, I swear it, but . . . but that is the worst.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, chuckling a little, too. “I probably shouldn’t have told you, but at least you’ll know the truth about my rocky path to being denied tenure.”
She settled in next to him. “You haven’t been denied yet, pal. You should listen to my favorite podcast, Big Girl Panties. Megan would tell you to pull them up and believe in yourself, and until the door is shut, it’s still open. I’ve never done it, by the way,” she said. “The one-night thing.”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” he said, putting his arm around her. “It’s fun in the moment, but afterward, in my experience, you definitely have to face some feelings about yourself you’d rather avoid.”
“Oh, interesting,” she said. “What feelings did you have to face?”
“I’ll just say I’m not that guy, and in the light of day, I didn’t like that I’d been that guy. But it happened, and life goes on, and I’m going to present my findings to the full departmental committee and Alanna and hope for the best.”
“I think you’re amazing, no matter what,” she said. “I mean, you literally know how the brain works. I don’t think I could ever understand it.”
“Sure you could.” Max pushed aside the pizza box. “Give me your hand.”
She put her hand into his, and he turned it palm up. Carly laughed. “Are you going to read my palm now? Please tell me if I’m going to get a job soon.”
“The fascinating thing about the brain is how it takes in and processes information. The strongest pathways are your senses. Like, the smell of apple pie may remind you of your grandmother’s house.”
“The smell of anything being deep fried reminds me of Grandma,” she said.
He traced a line across her palm. “What do you feel?”
“A really smart guy tracing a line across my palm, and my brain is wondering if it’s a joke.”
He changed direction and moved his finger up her palm and to the inside of her wrist. Her lips parted a little.
He moved a little farther up, to the inside of her elbow. “Still feeling a guy tracing a line across your palm?”
“No.” She looked into his eyes. “I feel an ocean. And there are waves and peaks and valleys, and I feel a little unsteady.”
“How interesting. Because my gonadal hormones are taking a dip in that same ocean.” He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “When you experience something, as opposed to reading or hearing, you tend to remember it longer.”
“So neuroscience is about experience?”
“In a way.”
“I’m going to remember this night for the rest of my life.”
“Me, too. It’s indelibly imprinted right here,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. He leaned over and kissed her again. And then he got up, shooed the dogs out, and leapt onto the bed. “And now I’m going to give you something spectacular to remember.”
Carly squealed with delight. “I can’t wait!”
Max was happy. And in his bed, with this woman, he really could believe there was nothing that could derail them. This felt meant to be.
* * *
Carly woke up the next morning in Max’s bed feeling like something big and wonderful had happened to her, and it wasn’t a dream. It was real. They had started something really great last night, she could feel it in her bones.
She dressed quickly so she could dash home and change for work. Max had propped himself up on one arm to watch her. “How are you this morning?” he asked.
She pulled on a sneaker. “I’m pretty damn good, Max Sheffington. I rarely make it this far in most relationships I attempt. How are you this morning?”
His gaze languidly moved over her. “Fucking fantastic.”
“No morning-after regrets? No facing any feelings you’ve avoided?”
“Not at all. I am very much looking forward to all the feelings.”
Carly grinned. She stood up and brushed her fingers through his hair, then trailed them down his cheek to his chin. “So . . . we’re doing this? W
e’re going to be a thing?”
Max got off the bed. He pulled her into his arms. “We are so going to be a thing.” He kissed her, then put his arm around her shoulders and opened the door to the bedroom.
Baxter and Hazel were waiting for them like two little sentries. They both instantly turned and trotted down the hall as if they knew where they were all off to.
Max walked with Carly to the front door. As he opened the door, her phone rang. “When will I see you?” he asked as she dug around in her bag for the phone. When she didn’t find it, she turned from the door to prop her bag on a brick planter so she could better search for her phone. “Tomorrow?” She found her phone and looked at him. “Maybe we could try out Barkin’ Springs?”
“Perfect.”
Carly looked at her phone. It was a message from her mother. You may meet your future stepfather tomorrow. Jesus. She’d managed to forget that looming disaster in the last twenty-four hours.
“Dinner after?” Max asked. “I know a couple of places that take dogs.”
“Wait,” Carly said. “Something just came up. I can’t do tomorrow.” She would deal with this when she got home. “How about Friday?”
“Friday,” Max agreed. “Barkin’ Springs and then dinner?”
“Yes! And then . . . my house?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“I’m excited.” Carly rose up on her toes and kissed him. He kissed her back, anchoring her to him with one arm. And when he lifted his head, he kissed the tip of her nose and said, “Are you forgetting something?”
“I couldn’t find them,” she said, assuming he meant her panties.
He looked at her funny. “I meant your dog.”
“Baxter!” she cried and scooped down to give him some love. “I’d be lost without you.”
She stood up and kissed Max once more, then she and Baxter trotted off together to her car. Halfway there, she turned and walked backward, unable to take her eyes from this man. Unable to believe this had actually happened to her, the unluckiest person she knew. Maybe this was her reward for having done everything right. Maybe at long last, she’d found the right guy. “Hey,” she said. “This?” She gestured between them. “It’s really awesome.”
