“Mmmmm, stop kissing me like that before we get to a point where we can’t turn back,” I moaned as he swayed and pressed against me.
Oh my God, how embarrassing would that be if his mom came up and found us?
“Wilson, I need you. Now,” he breathed.
With my body scorching I caught his face between my hands. “Max, I just want your family to accept me again. If we don’t go down for dinner—”
“Okay. I just can’t help it. Now that I have you back, I just want to be with you…in every way,” he mumbled, as he rolled off of me. We lay there, on his bed, both of us looking up at the ceiling, breathing like we’d just ran a marathon. Okay, so I hated stopping him, and I know that he’ll be sitting down at dinner touching me under the table. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it without wanting him to take me. Shit, a fantasy for another time. My stomach rolled in knots and my legs shook, weak from wanting him so badly.
“Can’t we just lock the door and stay up here forever? I really don’t want to go down there and deal with the bullshit we're in for when Dan opens his mouth,” Max breathed as he turned on his side, propping his head against his hand. The muscles under his flawless skin flexed and relaxed as if they were a perfect collection of ocean waves rolling in perfect sequence.
I knew he was uncomfortable with the position his father left him in, but I also knew we had to show his family that we were built of something more than a couple of lusty people who couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
Suddenly Joanie’s voice popped in my head…“You can’t keep running away from problems because they make you uncomfortable.” Yeah, well, that’s so easy for her to say, she wasn’t lying in bed next to the man she dreamed of marrying some day.
“Are you considering my proposal?” Max asked.
I gulped. What proposal?
“Well? Can’t we just stay here forever?” Max repeated. He watched my expression as his hand tickled my skin and he played with the charm on the necklace he’d given me.
“I wish I could stay here with you every moment of every breath I take, but I can’t. I have to go downstairs, and so do you,” I whispered as I captured his fingers in my hand.
He leaned into me, our lips met, and the steamy heat he built in my body ravaged every reason we were supposed to go. I pushed my hands into the back of his hair, which was cool against my hands. I opened my mouth, wanting more, when Max pulled away and my hand slid down his neck.
“Yeah, you’re right, we’d better go. I wouldn’t want anyone to come up here and find you taking advantage of me,” he said, teasingly, against my lips before he backed off the bed.
My hand fell down against the cool down comforter and I lay there, worked up and steaming for Max. I felt my chance to change my mind dissolve as he bent down, snatched his dress shirt and covered up his sexy physique.
Can I change my mind? God…I…want…him.
Chapter Twelve
~ Max ~
Backing off of Wilson while she lay there ready to be with me was so difficult. Everything in my body was fighting against the responsibility of heading downstairs to have dinner with my family. Going down there right then was like sticking my hand into a wasps’ nest. I knew I was about to get stung. How could I not? Calvin had always been the one that looked for Dad’s acceptance. He just played the “fuck it” card so he’d never have to admit how hurt he was by our father’s lack of confidence in him. And now…he’d never get the chance. Once Cal found out I was left in charge…the shit would hit the fan and splatter the walls. What a fucking mess.
I looked over at Wilson. Her hands were stretched above her head and she was spread so perfectly across my bed. I could see her firm nipples pushing against her top. Damn, really? I pulled at my pants, trying to make a little room.
“Stop lying there like that or else I’ll lock this door and have my way with you and we’ll never get down there.” I walked over and pulled at her ankle. She lifted her hand to me and I helped her off the bed. Yeah, we’re going to do this…face my family together.
Wilson swung her arms up around my neck and her hands tangled in the back of my hair. Damn, she’s beautiful. Her full breasts pressed against my chest and her stomach brushed perfectly across my hard-on. Her eyes cased my face and I could tell she wanted me to kiss her; instead I dragged my hands up her hips to her waist and pushed her away, just enough to make her groan.
“Well, your choice,” I told her.
“You’re right, my choice,” she answered as she let go of me and snatched my grey hoodie and slipped it on. She caught me smiling while I watched her.
“I can’t very well go down there looking like this,” she said as she pointed to her nipples, rock hard, protruding through her thin top.
“Well, I have to,” I groaned as I pointed down. She smiled back. “Let’s just go down there and get through dinner as fast as possible, okay? No dessert,” I bargained.
“No berry pie?” she teased as she slipped her fingers behind the buttons on my fly. I felt the heat of her hands weigh against my erection as she pulled me closer.
“That might be negotiable,” I teased as I kissed her on the tip of her nose and pulled her out into the hall. “Listen, if the conversation at the table gets too heated, we’re out of there. Okay?” I made sure she looked at me.
“We’ll just get up and leave?” she questioned, unsure of what she’d just heard. Her stunning blue eyes dropped from mine, her shoulders slumped, and her body language told me that she wasn’t comfortable with my suggestion.
I leaned down, swayed into her, and gave her my best pouty lip ever. Her eyes narrowed and a smirk came across her face before she caved and kissed me. I pushed my hands to either side of her face and kissed her like she was the best berry pie I’d ever tasted.
“Trust me,” I growled.
“I’ve always trusted you,” she whispered.
“Good,” I answered before heading downstairs, Wilson in tow.
When we came around the corner into the kitchen Dan was helping Camille carry food out to the table. Wilson rushed past me and took the salad from the counter and followed them. I watched her fit right into my family just like she had since the first day she met them. She was everything I’d ever wanted. I grabbed the platter of blackened sea bass and traipsed behind them.
“Oh, Maxi, thank you sweetheart, just set it there in the middle,” Mom said as she gave me her “good job” rub across my back.
Before I knew it everyone was sitting down at the table. It was strangest thing—Camille and Dan sat in their normal spots across from Calvin and me. Wilson took the spot between my mom and me. Nobody sat at the head of the table. Nothing was said; no action was set into motion to acknowledge the vacancy that was so obvious in our lives. Maybe none of us wanted to bring attention to the fact that this was our first family dinner together since Dad had died.
I watched Mom fall into the routine she’d been a master at for my whole life. But this time Dad wasn’t there to start the chain of dishing up first and passing it on. We sat there like a bunch of lost soldiers waiting for their commander to tell them what to do. The silence screamed how raw our loss still was.
“Here, Nancy, why don’t you start?” Dan broke the silence, picking up a basket of rolls and holding it out to her.
She managed a quivering smile as she nodded her head and took the basket.
“I remember when your father got this basket from one of our favorite restaurants in New York. I never liked it, but didn’t have the heart to tell him,” she said amiably as she set the chunky, loosely braided wooden basket on her plate and unfolded the peach cloth that covered the rolls. Her hands, pale and thin, moved like they always had any time before. But this time it was different; suddenly I noticed how vulnerable she was. She continued like we had asked her for her side of the story. “God, every time we were in New York, we’d have to make a special trip into little Italy and have dinner at Pellegrino’s. This one nig
ht, your father was being…well, your father. We were being impish, and I dared him to take the basket. Just tuck it under his arm and walk out with it.” She smiled, her eyes glazed a little damp with her memories.
“Oh, my God! Did he do it?” Camille gasped.
Mom chuckled. Tears escaped the ledges of her eyelids as she nodded, yes.
“Dad stole that basket from Pellegrino’s?” I asked. Funny, I never thought my dad would steal anything. He was such a stickler about stealing. We would have had our asses whipped if we were found stealing anything…and I mean any little thing.
“Well, that’s a shock. I never thought Dad had the balls to steal something,” Calvin added in a nervous laugh. Mom shot him a look before she turned back and finished the story.
“Well, actually, come to find out, he never stole it. While I went to the ladies’ room, your father paid the waiter for the basket. I’ll never forget how brazen he was, though, when he shoved the basket under his arm, took my hand, and walked right out of the restaurant. I couldn’t believe it.”
“That’s sounds just like him,” Camille said as she picked up the salad and dished herself some.
“Remember the time Dad convinced Calvin he was found under a rock?” I said to Camille, laughing.
“Oh my God, that’s right. He told me that he traded his watch and fifty cents to a band of gypsies for me,” Camille blurted out as she passed the salad to Dan.
I looked over at Wilson. She was comfortably watching our family interact, her eyes glossy with tears. Her laughter was my home. Somehow I was no longer worried about the news Dan had tucked away. It didn’t matter what was going to happen tomorrow; tonight was reserved for good-humored memories of our father. I pressed my lips to the side of her head and inhaled her essence.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Me too,” she said.
Calvin’s voice roared behind his laugh. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t funny; I’m still going to therapy over that one.”
“And that’s a big bill, let me tell you…” Mom teased.
“Well, Daddy used to say that Max was delivered next day air, by the UPS man. Or was it that you belonged to the UPS man?” Camille snorted.
“Oh, that’s just because I dated a guy who worked for the post office before I met your father,” Mom interceded before she grabbed Wilson’s hand. “Oh, dear, I hope these hooligans aren’t scaring you away from our family.”
Everyone at the table was laughing, and suddenly took a collective breath, as if it was planned.
“No. I feel right at home,” Wilson sighed.
Mom smiled at her before nodding. Her brown hair, that always framed her face perfectly, swished forward before she looked over at me. “She’s a keeper, Maxi.”
“I know,” I answered.
Then the table was quiet and the only thing we heard was the clinking of forks and knives against the plates. Calvin was humming as he ate, and Dan smacked his lips as he chewed his food. We were home. As home as we could be without my dad.
“Nancy, how did you and Frank meet?” Wilson asked just above a whisper.
I looked up from my plate at my mom. All of us at the table stopped eating.
Mom put down her fork, pulled the white cloth napkin from her lap and stared at the chair my father was supposed to occupy for dinner.
“Well, Frank and I met in college. He was the T.A. for Professor Hall, my Algebra instructor. It was my first year at Georgetown. I’ll never forget that day: I was running late for class, I can’t remember why. Frank was instructed to take over the class until Professor Hall got there. Oh, heavens, there must have been seventy five to a hundred people shuffling into the room at once. My foot caught the threshold of the door and I stumbled forward and flew right into his arms. Oh, God, our eyes met, he smiled, and I melted. From that day forward I sat in the front row because at least two days a week Frank would take over the class. Your dad says the moment I landed in his arms he knew I was going to be there for the rest of my life.”
Mom stopped telling the story, choked by the memories of how she fell in love with Dad. Her chin reflected her battle to keep from losing it; her eyes squeezed shut to hold back her tears. It took a minute for her to compose herself enough to continue the story.
“He always told me he knew, that very first day, I was going to be his bride.” Tears soaked her cheeks as the battle was lost. She dabbed her face with her napkin and struggled to continue without sobbing. Wilson reached over and touched my mom’s arm. She smiled and laid her hand on top of Wilson’s.
“Ha, right, little did he know, I wasn’t that easy to get. He’d ask me out; I’d always make up excuses. You know, I had to wash my hair, had homework, girlfriend drama, anything that kept him just far enough away to stay interested. Until one day when he showed up at my dorm room with an armful of flowers, claiming he picked them from the Chancellor’s private garden. He was romantic that way,” she pressed her hand to her lips as she began to cry again.
“Yeah, just like stealing baskets from restaurants…real romantic,” Calvin griped. Mom laughed through her cry before she continued.
“I only found out later, he actually went to a floral shop and picked out each flower himself—daisies, daffodils, cosmos, tulips, and calla lilies—each one just for me.”
I looked at Wilson, her eyes glued on my mom as she spoke about my dad, her hand still touching my mom’s arm. I reached over and held Wilson’s other hand, breaking her mesmerizing stare.
“That’s so romantic,” she whispered, her sky blue eyes damp with the story of my parents as she looked over at me. “I never knew how my grandparents met. I guess I never really asked before.”
I leaned in and kissed her temple. I’d always known how my parents met. I always took it for granted, because I’d heard the story a hundred times before, but this time it was different. This time it meant more to me knowing that Wilson was hearing it.
Camille broke into her story, then, on how she met Dan. But I didn’t listen. I was so entranced by Wilson, all I wanted to hear was her heartbeat speed and her breath hitch when I touched her. I wanted her to know that I felt the same way my dad did when he saw my mom for the first time.
Her eyes met mine, and I just wanted to be alone with her. I wanted to hear what she had to say, wanted to listen to her voice as it trembled when she talked about her family.
“Well, Mom, this was the best sea bass yet,” Calvin said as he stood up and picked up his plate. “Thanks for dinner.” He leaned over and kissed his mom’s head.
“You’re welcome, honey, don’t you want some dessert? It’s vanilla bean ice cream and mixed berry pie.”
Cal looked at me then over at Dan before he answered. “Ahhh, no thanks, Ma,” he said has he rubbed his stomach, “I’m stuffed. And besides, I gotta talk some business with Dan and Max. I bet Wilson and Cam will have some, though. Isn’t that right, ladies?” Calvin smiled, winking at them. There goes my hard-on.
Camille sat up straight. Her face—drawn long with narrow eyes—showed a different story. Her expression looked like she was one of the last kids picked on a kickball team after school. Wilson, on the other hand, looked over at me and with twinkling eyes. I knew it…she isn’t going to get up and we aren’t going to leave. So much for my plan.
I dropped my hand against the top of her thigh, before I inched it inward. She always reacted to my fingers as I pushed them up against the seam of her pants. Her legs widened. Damn, I can feel the heat radiating from her.
I stood up abruptly and kissed the top of Wilson’s head. “I’ll be right back. Save a bite for me,” I whispered.
“Maybe,” she teased.
I shuffled past her, following Dan and Calvin into the great room. This wasn’t my plan—not at all.
Chapter Thirteen
~ Wilson ~
I watched Max walk out, leaving me with his mom and sister. Not my plan, but I didn’t mind too much either. I really liked Nancy, and well, Camille
wasn’t half bad herself. But there was a part of me, a pretty huge part, that really wanted to be alone with Max right then. Nancy stood up and grabbed the last cluster of empty dinner plates.
“Let me take these into the kitchen,” she droned quietly.
“Here, let me help you,” I said, shooting up out of my chair.
“No, absolutely not. It’s a one-woman job. I’ll be right back with some pie and ice cream,” she insisted.
“Oh, Wilson, just let her do it. That’s her way,” Camille said as she motioned for me to sit down. She looked at the kitchen before she repositioned herself to face me. I could tell she had something on her mind, something she needed to talk to me about. The minute Nancy disappeared, Camille’s chest heaved and she looked down at her hands as she slid them across the table in front of her. Camille’s eyes rose to meet mine and we sat there for a measurable second, looking at each other in silence.
“Camille, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted when you came to me for help with Max. I should have—”
“Do you want to know why I came to you? I went to you because it’s what Max would have done for me. My brothers have always been the ones to protect me. Even though they are younger than me, they still take it upon themselves to take care of me, like I’m this delicate, breakable thing. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my brothers. I just wish they would stop thinking that I can’t handle anything.”
I felt the muscles in the back of my neck tighten and blood flush across my face, and without any warning, I felt jealous. Not that she had Max’s attention, or even that she held a protective space in his heart. I envied that she had brothers who would protect her so vehemently. How different my life may have been if I had a sibling to protect me. Thank God I had Joanie. She was the closest thing I would ever have to a sister.
“It’s just their nature, I guess,” I rebutted
“Yeah, well, their nature is getting old quickly. I mean, did they honestly think Dan wouldn’t tell me about my father’s decision? Like he could keep that away from me. You know, it’s Calvin everyone should be worrying about,” Camille roared.
Beyond Eighteen Page 8
