The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Alexander, S. B.

  His face paled, turning as white as the marble countertop. Not me—my cheeks were on fire, my hands were shaking, and the room seemed to be spinning slightly. In no way did I want him to say it back, especially not out of pity or because he felt he had to. Then I scratched that thought. Kelton wouldn’t say anything unless he meant it.

  Cold air would be good about now.

  Kelton moved toward me. He was about to open his mouth.

  I placed my fingers on his lips. “Don’t say anything. Those are my true feelings. They aren’t going to change when I return to Miami. Nor will they change ever, no matter where I am in this world.”

  “I was going to say stay and we’ll watch a movie and order pizza.”

  A movie sounded great. Anything to stay connected. “As long as we don’t talk about feelings or our past in Texas.” I didn’t want him to feel awkward that I’d told him I loved him. I was also drained from our game.

  “Deal,” he said, color returning to his face.

  Chapter 19

  Kelton

  I gazed up at the ceiling as the morning light seeped in through a crack in the curtains. I checked my watch. I had a math exam in about two hours. I’d planned to study after my date with Lizzie, but I couldn’t even concentrate. Sleep had been impossible too. I’d replayed the conversation between us at least a hundred times. When she wasn’t in my life, I was a fucking mess. Now that she was back in my life, I was still fucked up. The blood had drained from me when she told me she loved me, and not because she’d said the word love or poured out her heart. No, I was freaking out because if she was expecting me to say it back, no way. Fear gripped me. Fear that when she left for Miami I wouldn’t see her again. Stop being a pussy and commit. Take a chance. You’re not thirteen anymore. People have long-distance relationships all the time. Kade and Lacey were apart while she was in school. They were doing well. So why couldn’t I do it? My old man had always been separated from my mom when he was on deployment for the military, and they were still married. Do something, or you’re going to lose her.

  A knock sounded, and the door opened.

  “Can I come in?” Lizzie asked in a sleepy voice.

  We had fallen asleep watching Transformers. I hadn’t wanted to drive her back at midnight. She’d seemed so peaceful, sleeping on my lap. So, as much as it had pained me not to tuck her into my bed, I’d carried her up to one of the guest bedrooms.

  “Careful you don’t trip over my clothes.” They usually ended up on the floor when I was half-asleep.

  She undressed, taking off her tank top first, revealing that black lace bra I’d wanted to remove with my teeth during our game last night. Then she shimmied out of her jeans. When she bent over, her breasts practically spilled out of the garment.

  Motherfucker. Patriots. Football. Super Bowl.

  She kicked her clothes to the side and scurried to the bed. I thought to move, but I was entranced at her beauty. That didn’t stop her. She wormed her way under the covers, trying to push me. When her body touched mine, warm and soft as warm butter, tingles raced down my stomach. I slid over not more than an inch. I wanted her plastered to me, fused so tight I wouldn’t be able to let her go.

  “Wow, you’re on fire,” she said, yawning.

  Ha. I was an inferno of massive proportions, and not because I was sweating either. “It’s a guy thing.” I flipped onto my side, shoving my hand under my pillow.

  She adjusted herself so we were face-to-face. “How come you didn’t wake me to take me back to Dillon’s?”

  “It was easy to carry you to bed. I did text Dillon, though.”

  She threaded her leg in between mine. “Are you okay?” Her long lashes fanned out as she dropped her gaze to my lips.

  I repeated my sports mantra in my head, fast and furiously. But it wasn’t helping. My body was in desperate need to ravish her in every way imaginable. On the other hand, my brain roared no. My body had to be in sync with my brain for me to even think about making love to her. Fuck. I’d said make love. Usually I had sex with women. I didn’t make love. But Lizzie wasn’t any woman.

  “I really am a dickwad, aren’t I?” I pulled at her necklace until the half-heart charm was in my hand. The one thing that kept fucking with my head. This charm was the reason I was in a state of craziness. It raised memories, both good and bad, although the bad outweighed the good. I wanted to yank it off her neck and hide it where I wouldn’t be reminded of pain and heartache. But I couldn’t do that. It was special to her.

  “No. You’re scared. It’s okay to be.”

  Terrified was more like it.

  “Kel, why all the questions last night?”

  I dragged my fingers down her cheek. “I was trying to relive the past.” The good times we’d had. Maybe then I could move on.

  “Maybe it’s time to make new memories.”

  Her in my bed was already a new memory. “So, you love me, huh?” I stared at the charm.

  She snuggled closer before kissing my neck. “Yep.” Her lips moved up to my chin. “Flaws and all.” She moved her hips into me, her soft lips touching every part of my face except my mouth.

  My entire body turned to stone, the necklace falling from my hand.

  She snaked her fingers down my chest, dragging her nails until she reached the band of my briefs. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing. Then she nipped at my lips as her hand covered my dick. When she moaned, I growled, rolling her onto her back. I placed my hands on either side of her head, keeping much-needed space between us. I searched her hooded gaze as my own sexual needs warred with the right thing to do. And that was to wait until I was ready to confess my love. But with every thrust of her hips upward, every touch of her small hands on my body, every sensual noise that she spewed, and every breath of her jasmine scent, I was a fucking goner. I lowered my head until a minute space separated us. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, spiking every hormone in me to a new height. The room narrowed until I captured her mouth with mine. Then the world tilted, spun, as I swept my tongue over hers, tasting every sinful pleasure she had to offer.

  She fisted her hands in my hair, wiggling beneath me, trying to get me to press my body to hers. I wanted all of her. No, I needed all of her. The more we kissed, the more I felt her softness against me, the more I felt her desire for me, the more that steel wall around my heart melted. My brain fired at the last thought. But as she slipped her hand into my briefs, my brain shut down. The only way I was not taking all of her was if I ran out of there, ran away from her. The problem was I didn’t want to run. I wanted to feel her physically and emotionally.

  I snapped open the front clasp of her bra just as a door slammed somewhere in the house. Footsteps sounded, growing louder.

  Her soft body went rigid.

  “It’s probably Zach just getting home,” I whispered. “He won’t come in here.” Zach knew better. Then I realized I didn’t have the Do Not Disturb card on the outside of my door and it wasn’t locked. He and I had made one when we lived together in the dorms. When we’d moved to the townhome, we’d continued the habit even with separate bedrooms, just in case.

  Well, fuck. Panic drove intimacy right out the window.

  Knuckles rapped lightly on my door. “Kelton, are you home?” Chloe asked.

  Double fuck.

  Lizzie dug her nails into me. “I thought you broke up with her.”

  “Don’t move.” I scrambled off the bed before Chloe could form any idea of barging in. Which she had one time when I’d had a girl in my bed. How the hell did she get into the condo? I’d never given her a key. Unless I’d left the door unlocked the night before.

  “Kelton?” Chloe said again.

  Stumbling to get in my jeans, I hopped haphazardly to the door. “What are you doing here? And how did you get in?” I asked through the crac
k.

  “Sorry. I knocked. The door was unlocked. I thought you might be in the shower and didn’t hear me.” Her eyes were red. “I wanted to catch you before class. Can we talk?”

  I wanted to scream at her. She always had a way of showing up at the most inopportune time. Instead I said, in a calm tone, “I can’t right now. I’m going to be late for class.”

  She glanced over my shoulder as though she knew I had a girl in my room. “This won’t take long.”

  “Chloe,” I bit out.

  Lizzie huffed behind me.

  “Oh,” Chloe said. “Got it.” Then she stormed down the hall. Within seconds the front door slammed.

  “What’s going on?” Lizzie dressed quickly.

  I wanted to laugh at how cute she was with her bottom lip sticking out. “No reason to be jealous, baby doll. I seriously don’t know what she wanted.”

  “I should go. You have class.”

  I also had a growing hard-on watching her shimmying her hips into her jeans. But I couldn’t skip my math exam. I’d missed the last one because I’d been sick. I made it up, but not without the professor taking off ten points. I was striving to graduate next year with honors. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you at Davenport’s at four.” She hurried to the door.

  “Wait a second.” I grabbed her arm. “I want a proper kiss before you leave.” Before she had a chance to protest, I captured her mouth, trying to push my tongue past the lips she was pressing tightly together. “Lizard.”

  She opened, growling.

  Okay, I had to say her growl was the sexiest fucking thing alive. My dick agreed. Regardless, I kissed her slowly and tentatively. Otherwise, as irritated as she was, I might find myself with a knee to the groin. She softened before she whimpered. Then I fisted my hands in her hair, peppered kisses down her delicate jaw and her neck, and then back up to her ear. “Thank you.”

  She pushed away and smiled, but it seemed forced. I knew that jealous look. I hurried into the hall. “Lizzie? Don’t pull an Erika Ames on Chloe, okay?” I didn’t need two strong women fighting at the age of twenty, particularly Chloe. She was the daughter of a mob boss. I was certain she had torture techniques up her sleeve, not that I’d ever seen any. But I couldn’t help but smile at how hilarious it had been when I’d found out that Lizzie had sent Erika hate notes on my behalf in the seventh grade.

  Lizzie flipped me the bird as she barreled down the stairs and out the door.

  I grinned as I trudged back to my room, despite being sexually frustrated. Maybe a cold shower, or better yet, I should relieve the pressure if I didn’t want to walk around with blue balls all day. Then I shook my head. Exam first, then worry about my sexual needs.

  After I’d showered and dressed, I collected my backpack from the library, snatched my keys from the glass table in the foyer, and pulled open the door.

  Chloe was sitting on the top step. She popped up, gathering her hair in her hands and twisting it. Everyone had a tell, and hers was playing with her hair.

  A Mercedes cruised past, the sun gleaming off its shiny black paint job.

  “So who was the girl?”

  “You came over here to check on who I was sleeping with? Don’t answer that. Look, I’m going to be late for class.”

  “I don’t know how to tell you.” Her voice thickened. Then she wiped her nose.

  Anxiety sank its lion claws into the lining of my stomach.

  “We dated on and off for the last three years. You know how I feel about you.” Her voice was low.

  I lifted her chin. “Chloe, we had a good time together. You’re a wonderful person. Any guy would be lucky to have you. I’m sorry I’m not that guy.”

  Tears rushed down her cheeks, clouding her brown eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

  My vision flickered. My mouth locked open. If I’d paled at the word love, I was a fucking ghost at that. The sounds of the city streets vanished. I sat down and dropped my head in my hands, trying like a motherfucker to breathe. My mind ran back to the last time she and I had had sex, the day after we’d broken up—almost two months before. What was I worried about? I always used a condom. Always. Maybe the one I used had a defect. For fuck’s sake, I prayed the whole box didn’t. If so, then I might have more women showing up to tell me they were pregnant.

  Motherfucker.

  My breathing was all over the place. I had to run, to move, to get out of there. The thought of me being a father pried open my guts. I couldn’t even tell a woman I loved her, let alone have a baby with someone I didn’t love. My future whizzed by with snapshot after snapshot of how I was a fuckup. My father taught me to be responsible. I’d just failed miserably. I pulled on my hair, hungering for pain, for someone to punch my lights out. Maybe when I woke up I’d find I’d been in a bad dream.

  Chloe called my name. As she did, a harrowing thought careened through me. Her father. Jeremy Pitt, Russian mob boss, was going to lock me in his torture chamber and cut off my dick, my fingers, and my legs, then my arms. By the time he was done with me, my family wouldn’t know who I was. I shot straight up, grabbed my backpack, and catapulted off the porch.

  “Kelton, where are you going? I still need to talk to you!” Chloe shouted.

  “I need a minute.” I ran one block down to my Jeep. Then punched the side window, crushing my knuckles. Breathe, man. Go back. Talk to her. I had to think first, clear my head, or maybe jump off a bridge. I dove into my Jeep. I was being a complete jerk by taking off. I should have been asking her if I was the father. But somehow my gut was telling me I was. Otherwise she wouldn’t be breaking the news to me.

  I zipped through the streets of Boston, not knowing where I was going. Blood dripped down my knuckles as I banged on the steering wheel over and over again. As I stopped at a light, my phone rang. I checked the screen. Chloe. My hand shook as I shut off my phone.

  Chapter 20

  Lizzie

  I waited in the reception area of Mr. Davenport’s office. Kelton wasn’t there yet, but we had another ten minutes before our scheduled appointment. I flipped through a car magazine, landing on a page that displayed a Lamborghini. The headline read A Relentless Force—A Fearless Look. I studied the picture of the expensive automobile, picturing Kelton behind the wheel. Several other words came to mind when I thought of Kelton—sleek, hard, and powerful from the way he’d felt in my hands that morning to the way he’d kissed me. I’d wanted us to keep going. I’d wanted every part of him, but Chloe had blown that moment to pieces. What was she doing there at eight in the morning? I would’ve asked her when I practically tripped over her on the steps, but I was too irritated, too frustrated, too jealous. Okay, too angry, too, at Kelton for spouting off about Erika Ames. It wasn’t so much the name but rather his flippant and amused attitude over my jealousy.

  I tapped my foot on the carpeted floor—3:59. No Kelton. I called him. The line went straight to voicemail. “Kel, where are you?”

  Bonnie, Mr. Davenport’s squat assistant, walked up. “Where’s Mr. Maxwell?” She searched the reception area.

  “I’m sorry. He must be running late.” He’d wanted to be there since he was vying for a summer position at the firm. Not only that, I needed him. He’d done his homework on Florida law. “We can start without him.” I prayed nothing had happened to him.

  I clutched my phone as we passed by the conference room, law library, and other offices bustling with lawyers and assistants. Phones rang, doors closed, and a young guy with a ball cap wheeled a mail cart past us. I could never see myself in a stuffy office. Working in some type of marine biology job appealed to me far more than any job that required a suit with heels.

  “I explained to Mr. Davenport about your appearance,” Bonnie said.

 
I’d forgotten that I’d had my wig on when I met with Mr. Davenport. “Thank you.” Bonnie had done a double take when I’d removed my wig in front of her. I’d thrown it in the trash in the ladies’ room.

  Bonnie gestured with her painted blue nails to the chair in front of Mr. Davenport’s desk.

  I eased down onto the leather seat, squinting at the bright sunshine beaming through the windows with a panoramic view of the Boston skyline.

  Bonnie waited for Mr. Davenport to sign a document. After she’d collected the paper, she left, leaving us in complete silence.

  Placing his elbows on his desk, Mr. Davenport twined his fingers together, his bushy gray eyebrows lifting. “So, no Mr. Maxwell.” He didn’t sound surprised.

  “I know he had class. He probably got hung up there.” I hoped Kelton had a good excuse. I didn’t want to see him ruin his chances for the summer position.

  “Very well. I’ve managed to talk with Mr. Pilkington, the lawyer in Florida, and read through the estate documents. First, Mr. Pilkington has tried to call the trustee, Terrance Malden, on several occasions. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to connect with him. Second, while we try to locate Mr. Malden, it’s wise to freeze the estate assets.”

  “Kelton found that under Florida law that if we can prove Terrance no longer lives in Florida, then we could get him removed as a trustee immediately. Is that true?”

  “It is. But we would need a document or evidence to support that assumption.”