Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  “I meant my dinner.”

  “It’s in the fridge. It’s warm today, so I made a big salad with grilled chicken. Easy peasy for you to help yourself.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. “I like eating with you.”

  “I’ll be home in the morning and here tomorrow night.”

  I covered her hand with mine, frowning. “You’re not coming back tonight?”

  She patted my hand. “Nope. You get the house to yourself all night.”

  Somehow, I didn’t like the idea, which was odd. I usually enjoyed some solitary time. I felt a slight frisson of annoyance ripple through me. She hadn’t even mentioned not being here.

  “There had better not be yoga pants making an appearance tomorrow, Charly.” I swore to god she was trying to kill me with those things and the shirts. She was already far too distracting without adding in my sudden obsession with her wardrobe choices.

  She shook her head. “No yoga pants. Jeans. Simple jeans and a T-shirt.”

  I narrowed my eyes. She was caving too quickly. “What are you up to?” I groused.

  She rolled her eyes. “I only have so many clothes, Maxx. I still don’t get your beef with my pants—they cover me from waist to ankle. And it’s not as if I wander around in a bikini top—those shirts are huge.”

  She was right on both counts, except the pants fit her like a second skin and the shirts looked sexy on her. She didn’t see it that way.

  “You’re blind,” I snarled. “I see the customers looking at you.”

  She climbed on the bike, shaking her head. “Holy moly, what an imagination.” She gave me a little wave. “See you tomorrow!”

  I watched her disappear down the driveway, the urge to follow her and make sure she was okay, strong.

  She didn’t see herself the way I did. How she looked in the outfits she wore. How alluring she was no matter what she wore. Even on the weekends in sweats and a loose shirt, she was sexy.

  But at least I wouldn’t have to suffer the yoga pants again.

  Nothing could be as torturous as that.

  The house seemed too empty without her. I ate dinner on the porch outside, the salad and chicken delicious as always. Charly was right—her cooking was simple, but it suited me. Everything was tasty and fresh—way better than the shit I had eaten before she came along.

  Brett was gone, having agreed that Wednesdays were the quietest in the shop, so he would take them off. He headed into Toronto for a night with friends and wouldn’t return until tomorrow evening, so I had the place to myself. His friend was coming with him tomorrow for me to meet him. That should be interesting.

  I sipped a beer and polished off the dinner, then ate the last piece of pie, hoping another one would appear tomorrow. Or maybe more cobbler. I wondered if I could convince Brett to mention those cookies Charly owed him. I had a feeling they’d be damn awesome as well—as long as he shared them.

  I wandered the house, drinking another beer, listening to the silence. Had it ever been this loud before? Charly had only been around for a few weeks, and in the house for an even shorter time, yet the place felt empty without her.

  I had no idea what to do about her. She insisted she had no desire for anything but sex, but I still had my doubts. Sex with her was incredible. Hands down the most intense passion I had ever shared with a woman. She could light me up with a single look. The way she taunted me, goaded and teased me. Found ways to irk me so I growled and snapped at her, which for some reason, turned her on. I found that a little disconcerting, yet typical of Charly. She didn’t do anything halfway.

  But it was what happened after sex with her that confounded me the most. It was I who took her to my bed every night. She loved—needed—to be held. And I liked holding her—far more than I should. The feel of her molded to my chest, her hair spilling down her back over my hands was becoming addictive. I found the tighter I held her, the more she melted into me. It was hard to figure out where I stopped and she started at times.

  And then there were her little conversations in the dark that always started the same way. “Tell me a secret.”

  I knew about how lonely she was since her dad died. How devastated she had been when her brother passed. How she struggled when she realized her father would never recover from that loss and she would be alone soon.

  She whispered how terrified she was I would send her away that first week. “I had nowhere else to go, Maxx. And I already loved it here.”

  All her confessions told in the safety of the darkness, where I couldn’t see her face but could hear the pain in her voice.

  They all made me hold her tighter as if I could stitch the pieces of her broken heart back together with my embrace.

  I wasn’t as open as she was, but I talked about losing my parents, my worry about the shop and doing them proud. She listened, always finding the right words to assure me of her confidence in my choices. I did confess to planning on sending her away at first but was honest and promised she had a place here for as long as she wanted it.

  And that, right there, was the thing. She would want to move on. Sooner or later, living in a room in my house, having sex with me, and facing the reality that I was twelve years her senior, set in my ways, and not interested in marriage or much else aside from my garage, would wear her down. She would want more. And she deserved more.

  I sighed in the stillness of the house, sitting in the darkness of my living room. Rufus was at my feet, somehow sensing my mood and staying close.

  I dreaded that day, yet I knew it would come.

  At least, this time, I set the rules. I was prepared, and when she left, I would wish her well and be grateful for the time we had together.

  I was a here and now.

  Not a forever.

  I ignored the thought that if there were a forever, Charly would be the one I chose to spend it with.

  I couldn’t deal with thoughts like that.

  Chapter 20

  CHARLY

  I climbed off the bicycle, parking it inside the barn. I ran my hand over my head and smiled. Mary had French braided my hair last night, and the thick band hung down my back. It felt different, the air on my neck, but I liked it. I had no idea how to French braid, but Mary had been patient, showing me as she went along. I hoped I could do it half as well as she did next time.

  It had been a fun evening and so great to see Monica again. She and Mary had been friends for years, and it was nice to spend some time with both of them. Monica cupped my cheeks before she left.

  “You look so much happier, child.”

  “I am,” I assured her.

  “Good. Come see me soon, yes?”

  “I will.”

  “Bring this Maxx of yours. I want to meet him.”

  I felt my smile falter a little. We were closer, but I doubted he would ever be truly mine. He was adamant about the future—that we had none. Still, I nodded. “You should come to the garage and meet him. Have your car serviced. They do great work.”

  “I will do that.”

  I wiped my hands off on my jeans and tugged down the new T-shirt I wore. My yoga pants were far more comfortable, but I decided to give Maxx a break today. They seemed to drive him to distraction. Hopefully, an evening away from me would have done him some good. He probably enjoyed the peace and quiet.

  I headed directly to the garage, smiling as I walked through the large space. It looked so different. Many of the customers this week had commented positively, engaging Maxx in conversation about the pictures, some sharing memories with him about his parents. The chats seem to lift his spirits, and I was so glad I decided to go with my gut on the pictures I chose. The garage’s past was so tied up with his parents and his life, and the history should be celebrated.

  I set my bag beside my desk and went to the back of the office to make coffee. I filled the pot with water, then looked around for the coffee filters, spying them on the second shelf. I rolled my eyes, knowing either Brett or Maxx had pu
t them up there, forgetting it was I who would use them next. I stretched up as high as I could go, reaching for them, muttering under my breath about tall men and their thoughtlessness. I startled when a strong arm wrapped around my waist, and a hand reached past me to snag the pile of filters.

  “No need for all the mutterings, Red. I got them.”

  I relaxed back into Maxx’s firm chest. “You need to leave them on the bottom shelf.”

  “You shouldn’t leave the coffee to me or Brett—for many reasons,” he replied, his voice a low hum in my ear.

  “Then stop being so impatient in the morning and wait five minutes until I come in. If you weren’t so intent on sexing me up all night, I could get in here a little earlier.”

  He chuckled darkly. “I like sexing you up.”

  His arm tightened, and I moaned. “Is that a dipstick in your pocket, Maxx, or are you just happy to see me?”

  He ran his lips down my neck, licking and nipping at my skin. “I’m very happy to see you, Red.” He sucked at my earlobe. “I like the hair.”

  “Mary did it for me. It’s going to be hot today, and she thought it would keep my neck cool.”

  He flattened his hand on my stomach, rubbing his finger under my waistband in long, slow passes.

  “I’m feeling pretty hot already,” he growled.

  I gasped as he tugged my braid, tipping up my head. His mouth covered mine possessively. He stroked along my tongue in slow, intense passes. His lips worked mine hard, holding me prisoner against his body. He ran his hand over my breasts, plucking the nipples through my shirt, making me squirm. He made fast work of my button and zipper, then his fingers, his talented, wicked fingers, slipped under the material and strummed at my clit. I arched against his touch, suddenly desperate for the feel of his hands on me.

  He pulled away from my mouth, dragging his lips across my cheek to my ear. His voice was low, demanding, and intense. “You’re always ready for me, aren’t you, Red? You knew I’d come for you.”

  I could only whimper. I was wet five seconds after he kissed me. Only he could do that to me.

  “You left me alone last night. I didn’t like it.” He pressed one finger inside me, then added a second, keeping his thumb on my clit. My legs began to shake, and I moaned at the sensations he was creating. “Don’t do it again.”

  I reached between us, running my hand over his erection. “Maxx, please.”

  “No,” he hissed, his hand moving faster, pressing harder. “Just this. Give it to me, Red. I want to hear you.”

  The bell rang, signaling a car was out front. I shuddered, and Maxx sped up his movements.

  “Come for me, Red.”

  “The bell—”

  His snarl cut me off. “They can fucking wait. I can’t.” He pressed harder and crooked his fingers inside me, making me see stars. “You come now.” He bit my earlobe. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

  I cried his name as colors exploded behind my eyes. Like a cat in heat, I arched my back, pushing myself closer to his touch, riding out the waves of ecstasy. I bucked and moaned, my legs shaking, gripping his neck and almost sobbing as my orgasm crashed around me, peaked, then ebbed, leaving me a boneless, shuddering mess in his arms.

  Maxx kissed my neck, slowly withdrawing his touch. He tugged my braid, kissing my mouth, gentle and light. He stepped back, one hand still on my back, making sure I was steady. I turned to him, glassy-eyed.

  “You—” I began.

  He kissed me again, tugging up my zipper. “You owe me, Red. Later, on your knees, I’ll collect. You got me?”

  I nodded, then felt my cheeks flush as he slipped the fingers he’d had inside me into his mouth.

  “This will hold me until then.” He winked. “That and coffee.” He spun me back, facing the shelves. “Get to it.”

  I peeked over my shoulder as he sauntered away. I grinned as I watched him adjust himself before he opened the door, waving at the customer, then heading to the sink to wash his hands.

  I gripped the shelf, resting my head on my hand.

  That was one way to say good morning.

  His words drifted through my head. “I didn’t like it. Don’t do it again.”

  I wondered as I went through the motions of making coffee if, perhaps, he was a little more mine than I realized.

  Maybe he was a little more mine than he planned.

  Without Brett there, Maxx was busy all day. The phone was steady, and next week was already filling up. I stayed in the garage, only heading to the house to pull out some burgers to grill later and make sure I still had lots of salad stuff. It was hot, so I put on the air conditioner and shut the windows before heading back with a sandwich for Maxx. I munched on mine as I walked across the grass, thinking of this morning.

  Every time I was close to Maxx, I felt his eyes on me. The heat of his stare made the back of my neck prickle. His voice seemed to reach my ears no matter what I was doing. His laughter as he talked to customers seemed darker—richer. I felt him all over my body, the ache between my legs growing all day. I had dated prior to Maxx. Had sex before he entered my life, but what happened between us was so much more than just sex. The passion and need he inspired when he was close at times overwhelmed me. His growls and snarls turned me on. His possessive nature and the way he controlled me were both a surprise and a shock. I had always liked sex, but with Maxx, it was becoming an addiction.

  I sighed, entering the fresher interior of the garage. On hotter days, Maxx kept the doors shut and the air as cool as possible, using the huge exhaust fan to keep the flow moving. It was warmer than usual, but better than the heat of outside. The thick cement walls helped, but there was still a change in temperature.

  Maxx was crouched beside a motorcycle, working away as I went by.

  “I brought lunch.”

  He stood, wiping his hands. “Great. I just finished, and I’m starving.”

  He followed me to the workbench and sat down, reaching for the sandwich and taking a large bite. I watched him for a moment. His T-shirt was soaked, his arms glistening in the tight sleeves. He wiped his forehead, taking another bite. “What?”

  “You’re drenched.”

  “It’s hot. I’m putting out a lot of manual effort.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

  “Are you drinking lots of water?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should change your shirt. Wear something lighter.”

  He glanced down. “I guess.”

  “You should have a shower and cool off.”

  He chuckled. “You worry too much.”

  “No, I’m being sensible. I’ll go get you a fresh shirt.” I frowned. “We should get you some lighter pants or long shorts for days like today.”

  “I like my jeans.”

  “Some cotton ones that breathe would help keep you cool.”

  He wiped his forehead again, and I went to the washroom and soaked a towel, coming back and draping it on his neck. He jumped as the towel touched his skin, then relaxed.

  “That feels good.”

  There was a small restroom off the office—a sink, toilet, and a shower stall. “Shower, and I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

  “I’m quite capable of doing that myself,” he griped.

  “I’m aware you can dress yourself. I’ll just get you the clothes.”

  He huffed, and I shook my head. “Stop being stubborn, Maxx. Let me help.”

  “I’m not used to anyone looking after me,” he admitted in a low voice.

  “Well, you have me now. So, stop arguing.”

  He met my eyes, his gaze intense and searching. He reached out and stroked my cheek, his fingertips rough, yet so gentle on my skin. “I guess I do. For now,” he added quietly. “Okay, Red. Get me some clothes. A shower would feel good.”

  Fifteen minutes later he emerged, his hair damp, and a frown on his face as he plucked at the gray T-shirt I had left him.

  “What, exactly, is this?”

  “I ordered thos
e last week. They arrived while you were in the shower. You get to wear the first one!”

  He stared at me, then looked down. It was a simple cotton T-shirt with the new logo on it, large and vivid.

  “I hadn’t approved the logo last week. I still haven’t,” he rumbled.

  “I only ordered a few. Besides, I knew you’d like it. It looks good on you.”

  He filled out the extra-large perfectly. It clung to his chest and arms, the gray looking nice against his tanned skin. The rounded neckline wasn’t too high, so it was comfortable.

  He grunted, obviously not too pleased.

  “I’m wearing one too—look!”

  I stood, and Maxx’s face went lax. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  I looked down, confused, then realized what he was staring at. “Oh. My, ah, jeans were hot. I changed.”

  His face was like thunder.

  “You said no yoga pants. This is all I’ve got left.”

  “A miniskirt?” he asked through tight lips. “You’re wearing a miniskirt?”

  “No,” I explained slowly, noticing how his eyes were darkening more than usual and his voice becoming deeper. Richer. “It’s a skort.”

  “A what?”

  I twirled around, showing him. “A skort. Shorts, with a skirt over top. Perfectly acceptable.”

  “To whom?” he snarled.

  “To everyone?” I offered, although my reply sounded more like a question.

  He shook his head. “Not to me, Red. Not to me.”

  MAXX

  She stood in front of me, sex incarnate, wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with my new logo, a miniskirt/skort thing, with a ponytail. French braid. What the hell ever. And sparkly sneakers.

  A wet dream, looking confused and still so sexy, my cock, which had been semi-hard all morning, roared to life.

  “You have no idea what you look like, do you, Red?”

  “Ridiculous?” she questioned.

  “No.” I shook my head slowly. “Like you need to be down on your knees in front of me right now. Sucking me off while I pull that braid and ride your sexy fucking mouth.”