by Layla Hagen
This brings a giggle out of me. “I thought elevator sex wasn’t in the cards.”
“Right now, I’m reconsidering it.”
Pushing him away, I step back. “Keep your dirty thoughts until after our dinner. Where are your manners, Bennett?”
“You make me forget I have any.”
“Let’s go,” I say, because his eyes still have that dangerous glint that sends delicious shivers down my back.
As we step out of the building, we find Mrs. Deveraux smoking and pacing in the small park in front of the clinic.
“Is anything wrong, Mrs. Deveraux?” I ask her.
“No, dear. Just waiting for my date to pick me up. Have fun with yours.” She gives Max an exaggerated wink, which makes him frown.
“Err, why did your patient give me the sex wink?” Max asks once we’re out of her earshot, looking somewhere between surprised and panicked.
“She told me from the very first time she saw you that you’d be a stud in bed for sure.”
Max lightens up considerably at this. “How could she tell?”
“Apparently there’s this way you walk that made her awesome-sex radar pick up.”
“And here I thought I actually had to prove my worth to women by doing the actual deed. Turns out, all I have to do is walk around.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say cockily, “but I think Mrs. Deveraux’s level of wisdom can only be acquired with age. You still have to prove yourself to us youngsters out here.”
Max doesn’t reply, merely kisses the living daylights out of me, right in the middle of the sidewalk.
“There’s no sweeter challenge than proving it to you,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver. As he leads us to the car, Max places a protective arm around my shoulders and I interlace my fingers with his.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asks, kissing my temple.
“I’m just amazed how you can go from sexy beast to protective boyfriend in just a few minutes.”
“Hey!” He shoves the side of his hip playfully against mine. “I can wear both hats at the same time. For example, now, I’m thinking about how easy it is to feel you up in this dress. I have free access below, and I bet if I pull it down, I’d have a wonderful view of your tits.”
“Haha! When I bought it, I wondered how long you’d last until you made a comment about it. We didn’t even climb in your car yet.”
Max shrugs, and as we come to a stop in front of his car, he opens the door for me. I love the gentlemanly side of him. Damn it, I love every part of him.
“I have a dirty mind. Always have, always will,” he says before closing my door.
We drive in silence to the restaurant, and as the car veers on a street snaking along the shore, I press my nose to the window.
“I love the ocean so much,” I whisper.
“I know. But you never told me why you love it so much.”
“Not sure. When I look at it, I can almost believe that anything is possible, that the possibilities are endless.”
“We can go on a cruise around the world one day.”
My head snaps in his direction, his words reaching somewhere deep inside me. “That’s incredibly sweet of you. But I don’t think we could take so much time off from work.”
He smirks. “The wonders of modern technology. I can do most of my work from anywhere if I have cell phone reception and Internet. And you can take a break.”
“You know I can’t afford one.”
“Emilia,” he says in a measured tone, keeping his eyes on the road, “I know you’re stubborn, but I do have more money than I could need in this life, and I have every intention of sharing it.”
“I don’t take handouts.” My voice is strong and unwavering.
He groans. “Jesus, we’ll always fight on this.”
“Probably,” I say, but smile to myself as one word bounces around in my mind. Always. Can I really allow myself to hope that there will be an always for us? When twenty-eight years have shown me that the only constant is disappointment?
I push those sad thoughts out of my mind as we arrive at the restaurant a while later. It’s on a cliff high above the sea, and all the walls are made of glass. The view is amazing, the atmosphere is romantic and intimate, and I might never want to leave.
“Wow,” I exclaim once we’re sitting at our table. “How can such a place exist?”
“A friend of mine opened it as an experiment.”
“I like your friend already.”
As we scan the menus, Max’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his jacket with the clear intention of shutting it off. Then he frowns, and instead puts it to his ear, mouthing Sorry.
“Max Bennett,” he says into the phone. The voice at the other end speaks rapidly, but I can’t make out the words. “Okay, keep me in the loop.” After clicking off, he shoves the phone back into the pocket of his jacket.
“Max? Is something wrong?”
“Let’s order.” His words are clipped and heavy. I don’t like seeing him like this, but I will let it go for now. Maybe he’ll cool off in a few minutes. The waiter jots down our order, returning quickly with our drinks.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I ask Max once we’re alone. “You don’t have to, but you can.”
He takes one sip from his glass before answering. “That was the detective who is searching for your dad.”
Oh. Now I wish I hadn’t pushed.
“What did he say?”
“That he’s got three good leads. One in Chicago, one in Wisconsin, and one in Quebec, Canada.”
My heart leaps to my throat. “Three? He narrowed it down to three in such a short time?” My father’s name is Julian Campbell, and he shares the name with a few thousand others.
“Not necessarily. He says they look like possible matches, but he’s still researching other leads.”
I remain quiet, my eyes fixed on the candle between us. Sweat breaks at the back of my neck, and I have the distinct feeling that someone is poking the inside of my throat with a needle.
Max reaches for my hand over the table. “Tell me.”
How can two simple words carry so much weight? Hesitantly, I place my hand in his, soaking up the warmth and reassurance he radiates.
“I don’t know what to say,” I explain.
“Anything that’s on your mind.”
With other men, I kept my cards close to my chest. But Max makes this impossible, even if I wanted to. Maybe it’s because we have so much history, but there is an inherent trust between us that I didn’t have with other men.
“I don’t know if this is good news or bad.”
“Do you want me to stop the search?”
“No, not at all.” He watches me with an expectant expression, and I decide to open up. “I don’t remember much about him. But on the day of Mom’s funeral, I overheard him fighting with Grams. He told her he hadn’t signed up to be a single father and raising me on his own was too much work, that he hadn’t wanted me in the first place. ” I have never shared this with him. In all our years of friendship when we were kids, I kept this to myself. Looking back, I think it was because I felt ashamed, as if it was my fault he left. My voice is uneven, but I force myself to keep talking. “And then when my fiancé bailed, he said something very similar, that being with me felt more like work than a relationship. It felt as though I wasn’t worth fighting for, like I didn’t deserve love. And now I’ve turned into an insecure mess.”
“No, now you finally trust me. Thank you for telling me this. Explains a lot. I admire you even more for wanting to find him to make Grams happy.”
I give him a small smile.
“Just to make one thing clear. You deserve love, and you are worth fighting for. You are an amazing woman, and it’s a damn honor to be your man. I don’t take that for granted. I don’t take you for granted. You deserve everything, Emilia.”
“So do you, Max.”
Sighing, I try hard to swallo
w the love declaration that’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s too soon. Sometimes I think Max knows some deep parts of me better than I do. He didn’t seem shocked or taken aback by my admission. I think that is because he saw my wounds a long time ago, and was looking for the right balm for them. When we were kids that meant being my friend, making me laugh and come out of my shell. Now… now he’s saying all the right things.
A recognition strikes me and the surprise is such that it knocks the wind out of my lungs. I’ve been in love with Max Bennett since I was nine years old. I just didn’t know it.
A startling noise jolts me out of my thoughts, and I discover I’m shaking with equal parts giddiness and nervousness. One day I will share this realization with Max, but now it seems too soon.
“Sorry,” Max mutters, checking his phone. When he pushes it back in his jacket, he’s frowning.
“Anything wrong?” I ask, wishing I could wipe that crease off his brow.
“Work stuff. We want to expand in Brazil, and I’m having trouble bringing their distributors to the negotiation table.”
“I have full confidence you’ll succeed,” I assure him. “What other countries are you expanding into?”
“Mostly European ones. We got into France while I was in London, and last week I sealed a very good deal with some high-end retailers in Germany.”
The waiter interrupts us, bringing mountains of food, and we exchange no words afterward, concentrating on the treats in front of us. Our dinner is delicious, and I discover Max loves clams. He ordered a double portion as his main course, explaining that he’ll skip dessert instead. So while I’m savoring my stracciatella and chocolate ice cream, he’s eating the last few clams, attacking them with a boyish enthusiasm.
“I always thought clams look too much like a pussy to enjoy them.” I freeze the second the words are out of my mouth.
Max chokes on his bite and bursts out laughing, not calming down for a few long minutes. A few guests from the other tables have turned to us.
“Sorry,” Max explains to them through chuckles. “My girlfriend here is very funny.” Turning to me, he says in a low voice, “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Me either, even though it’s true. But let’s forget it. Clam talk is off the table.”
“How about pussy talk?” he whispers. “Is that on the table? How about under the table? Or in the shower, on the bed. We can steer clear of any tables.”
“Stop, or I’ll drown in embarrassment. There are people around us.” Granted, his voice is low enough that they can’t hear, but I feel like my cheeks will catch fire soon.
“Why don’t you check the situation under the table? It requires your attention.” His gaze holds so much heat that I instantly ache for him, especially once I make sense of his words.
“Max,” I admonish, my cheeks on fire.
“Do you know what hearing the word pussy from your mouth does to me?”
“Obviously it made you laugh,” I mumble.
“It made me hard.”
***
Those words bounce around in my mind, messing with my senses for the entire journey back home, which I’m certain is much shorter than it should be. Max is driving like a man possessed. When we finally reach his apartment, we wordlessly give in to our desire, not even making it to his bedroom.
He kisses my jaw and the column of my neck, biting me gently at the base of it. Damn if that’s not a turn-on. I dig my fingers in his arms to show my appreciation, then run my hands down his chest feeling him up shamelessly.
“I will make you feel so good tonight that you won’t want to leave my bed ever again,” he murmurs against my skin.
His voice is inviting, and everything about him beckons to me. His eyes, full of kindness and desire alike; his hands, searching and comforting at the same time. With every kiss and every word, he carves himself a place in my heart. He hoists me up on the counter in the kitchen, undoing the zipper of my dress, which falls to my lap, leaving my breasts exposed to him. His nostrils flare as he takes a sharp inhale.
“I’ve wanted to do this the entire evening.” His thumbs caress the sides of my breasts, making my insides instantly tighten. Every word coming out of his mouth feels like a sinful promise. My body hums at his proximity, yearning for more of his touch. But Max doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. His thumbs still torture the sides of my boobs in the lightest of caresses. Such a simple movement, such a devastating effect.
“O-okay,” I stutter, drawing in a deep breath.
“Put your arms on my shoulders and wrap your legs around me.” His voice drips strength and masculinity, a combo that makes me inherently trust him even though I don’t know what he intends to do. I do as he says, and without warning, he lifts my ass off the counter. I tighten the grip of my legs around him, lacing my fingers at the back of his neck.
“Don’t worry,” he says, as if sensing my thoughts. “I won’t let you fall.”
“I know,” I whisper. Max leads us to the bedroom, putting me on the bed, removing my dress and thong. Wordlessly he removes his own clothes as well, and as I watch him reveal more and more of his skin, I can’t help a little movie playing in my mind.
“Why are you smiling?” he inquires.
“I was imagining you as a stripper.”
Max chuckles, but doesn’t stop removing his clothes. “You have a dirty little mind, Emilia.”
“You need a stripper name.” I frown, tapping my jaw with my forefinger, feigning to be thinking hard. “The Amazing Max?”
“That’s too tame. How about Orgasm Machine? Or—”
“You need to earn such a name first,” I tease, flaunting my hand as if he couldn’t possible deserve the nickname.
“Challenge accepted. Lie on your back.”
I do as he says, now looking forward to his sweet torture even more than before.
“Spread your legs for me.” The commanding tone in his voice sends tendrils of heat low in my body.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Oh, you’ll want to.”
We engage in a battle of stares, and he wins of course. I spread my legs and he settles between them, lounging over me.
Max peppers my chest with kisses, my nipples puckering almost painfully, begging for his attention. He licks the sides of my breasts with the tip of his tongue.
“Your skin tastes so sweet.”
My hips buck off the bed as need sears me, but Max takes his damn time, nuzzling one nipple and then the other.
Finally, finally he descends with his kisses, lingering around my navel for a few excruciating seconds before going further down. But then he proceeds to kiss my inner thighs, completely ignoring my center. I writhe and moan as his lips nuzzle the soft skin of my legs.
“Max, please.”
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs as he drags his thumb up and down my entrance, making me shudder. “I love seeing you like this.”
He lowers his head and when his lips touch my sensitive flesh, my entire body ignites. I hold my breath as he sucks gently on my clit while thrusting one finger inside me, moving it in and out at a frantic pace. Needing more, I buck my hips, looking to meet his thrusts.
“Stay still,” he commands.
“No can do,” I whisper. “I—”
Abruptly, Max pulls his hand away. I sigh in protest, feeling betrayed.
“Every time you don’t do as I say,” he explains, “I will stop what I’m doing.”
I pout, letting him know his words don’t make me happy, but I secretly enjoy this little game of his. Which I’m certain he knows.
Placing my hips back on the bed, I nod, licking my lips for good measure. His eyes darken instantly, and he rewards me by sliding two fingers inside me. He mimics the act of making love with his fingers, his mouth expertly suckling and nipping at my clit until I come, harder than I ever have before.
“One.”
I barely have time to register what he means before I feel one stroke of h
is tongue right under my entrance. A white-hot shudder thunders through me as I realize he’s counting orgasms. As he licks me all the way to my clit, I become so wanton and aroused, I don’t know what to do with myself. My flesh is still tender from my orgasm, and Max’s mouth gives me as much torment as it offers me pleasure. Time to return the favor. Placing my palms on his shoulders, I push him away. He cocks an eyebrow, but I just shake my head, rising to my knees. He’s in the same position. I take advantage and run my hand once over his muscle-laced torso. Then, lowering my head, I lick him once from his navel up on his chest. Max grips my hair gently, pulling me up until our eyes are almost level.
“Turn around,” he commands. His eyes have a spark of dominance that strike right in my core.
“Okay.”
No sooner is my back to him than he says, “Lie down on your stomach.”
I’m shaking with anticipation as I follow his instructions. My tender nipples hurt as I touch the bedsheet. Before I realize what’s going on, Max shoves a pillow under my center, lifting my ass up. Having the length of his erection against my ass cheek sends sparks of desire along my nerve endings. Not being able to see him or anticipate his next move makes this waiting game all the more thrilling. Then I feel his hot and humid mouth at the base of my spine, trailing up my back until he kisses my neck.
“I will be so deep inside you, Emilia,” he all but grunts into my ear. His fingers reach down, coaxing my clit, which is still oversensitive from the last orgasm. I come in one minute flat, biting into my pillow. “Two.”
My entire body is on fire as my orgasm still pulses through me, but I want him. All of him. He’s making me insatiable.
“I need you inside me, Max. Now.”
A strange sound reverberates from my left, as if Max is rummaging for something on the nightstand. The sound of ripping foil follows. Condom.
The anticipation is killing me. My flesh is still so tender, I think I will explode the second he enters me. When he slides the tip inside me, a shiver runs through my entire body.
“You’re so tight.” He slides inside me to the hilt, coaxing a whimper out of my mouth. “Oh, fuck, Emilia.”
