Picking Up the Pieces (41 page)

Chapter 41: Lily

Once blood began running to the top half of my body again, rational thought came back to me. I didn't want a whirlwind romance with Max. I wanted something that would still be there when the winds died down.

So instead of fulfilling the promise I made myself about the multi-orgasm
ic weekend that was ahead of me, I pumped the brakes. Max and I had needed to talk about so much, get on the same page, and sex would've been a hindrance to us.

But after two weeks of my denying him anything beyond a heated make out session on my couch, Max decided to play dirty. However, when even his expert fingers and roving tongue proved no match for my resolve, he tactfully reminded me that playing hard to get was usually reserved for those who hadn't already given up the goods. And after I'd leveled him with a lethal glare that was completely for show, I straddled him on my loveseat and made it clear that he'd yet to see the best of my goods.

From there, we were inseparable. I tried to retain some autonomy at first, pretending like I actually wanted to sleep by myself in my apartment. But after Max knocked on my door at two in the morning on a Wednesday, complaining that he couldn't sleep without me hogging all of the covers, we both decided spending time alone was overrated. My things slowly began taking over his house after that.
I
began taking over his house after that.

And that's how, two months later
, I ended up on Bill and Marjorie's back patio, with Max casually holding my hand, and my parents talking about how great the food was.

"Really, Bill, everything is so delicious," my mom raved.

"Glad you're enjoying it, Lynn. It's nice cooking for folks who appreciate a good meal." Max's dad sent a purposeful look at his wife and son as he said the last comment.

"If we ever got one, we'd appreciate it," Max retorted, not looking at his father, but rather staring at our intertwined fingers as he drew lazy circles on my skin with his thumb.

"So, Max, Lily tells me you're doing really well with the hockey commentating. Is there room for growth with that?" My dad was smitten with Max, and who could blame him? It wasn't every day that I introduced him to my famous hockey player boyfriend. But he was still trying to play the protective father role. It was cute.

Max tore his attention from our hands to look my father in the eye, giving him the respect Max knew my father expected. "Absolutely, Howard. The post-game interviews I'm doing now could easily lead to doing play-by-play analysis during the game. I just need to wait for an opportunity to open up."

"Could that require you to move?" I knew my mom's question was asking more than it seemed. Even though she always wished I'd return to Chicago, she also didn't want me traipsing all over the country in order to pursue someone
else's
dreams.

"I have no intent
ion of moving. My family's here." His eyes skated to mine. "Lily's here." Refocusing on my mom, he sat back in his chair. "I'm not going anywhere."

I knew he was talking about more than just relocating for his job. He was letting me know that he was in this for the long haul. And I loved him for it.

Our relationship had progressed rapidly, but none of it felt rash or sudden. I knew it was because we'd actually been building up to this for over a year and a half. And once we finally arrived, it just felt . . . right.

Which brought me to one of the reasons we were all having dinner together. Other than us obviously wanting our parents to meet, we also wanted to discuss something with them. I had tried to think of the best way to broach the subject, but nothing had come to me. So I finally d
ecided to say the hell with it and just come out with it. "Max and I are going to move in together," I blurted as I pushed food around my plate.

Everyone looked up at me and set their silverware down.
At least they no longer have weapons.
I knew Bill and Marjory would probably be okay with the news, but my parents were pretty old-fashioned. There was really no telling how they would react.

"Are you two sure you're ready for that?
It's only been a couple of months."

I had been prepared for that sentiment, though I'd been stunned that it was Marjory who
had voiced it. But, when I thought about it, I had to admit that I had a habit of hurting her son. Therefore, I really couldn't blame her reluctance.

"I'm sure that I'm done waiting for my life to work itself out," I explained softy. "I want to start putting the pieces in place for my future.
Our
future. And I don't want to waste another second of my life. We only get one forever. I want to make every minute count."

Marjory smiled, clearly satisfied with my answer.

"Well, if you're sure, Lily, then your mother and I support whatever decision you make."

I nodded and looked at Max. "I'm sure."

"Great!" Bill exclaimed as his hand slapped his knee. "Now that all that's out of the way, what's for dessert?"

"Classy, Dad."

"What? We were all thinking it," Bill defended.

"I'm pretty sure everyone else was thinking about how great Lily and I are together," Max replied as he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "Until you completely bulldozed the moment, that is."

"I'm going to bulldoze this table if someone doesn't bring me a piece of cake or a brownie or something. I slaved over a hot grill for you, and you can't even get me a piece of pie. With some ice cream. And maybe sprinkles."

"Ignore him, Howard and Lynn. He gets antsy without his post-dinner sugar fix," Marjory explained.

"Don't let her change the subject. She's just trying to keep dessert to herself. I'm wise to your games, woman."

My parents were grinning widely, clearly amused by Max's dad. And I couldn't blame them. If Bill was any indicator of what Max would be like in twenty years, then I was in for a life full of laughs.

"Max and I brought dessert. I'll go get it." I got out of my chair as if doing so was a great burden, though I couldn't stifle my grin. "I'll be right back."

When I got to the kitchen, I pulled the apple pie we brought out of the fridge and grabbed a plate to serve it on. Then I spread the cookies I
’d made earlier around the outside of the plate. I was reaching up to grab dessert plates from Marjory's cabinets when I felt two strong arms wrap around me from behind.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked as I rested my arms over his.

"I missed you," he replied as he started trailing kisses down my neck.

I tilted my head to the side to give him better access, though I said, "Don't start something you can't finish."

I felt a small laugh rumble in his chest. "Have you ever known finishing to be a problem of mine?"

I slapped his arm lightly. "You're bad."

He spun me around and lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my thighs. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slipped his around my waist.

"Not bad for you."
He said the words as a statement, but his eyes let me know that they were a question too. He was asking me, pleading with me, to tell him that he was good enough.

And just as I'd done every time he'd
needed this reassurance from me over the past two months, I gave it willingly, knowing that I was the reason he needed it in the first place. I just hoped that, with time, I could relieve all of the hurt I'd caused him. "No, you're the very best thing for me." I leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

"I love you, doll."

"I love you too. Now let me off of this counter before I show you just how much," I said with a wink.

His hands clamped my hips roughly as he slid me hard against his waist, as if daring me to follow through with my threat.
He stayed there for a moment, giving me access to the feel of his steadily growing erection. Finally, when he knew I’d been sufficiently teased, he backed up and I hopped down from my perch, missing the feel of him against me immediately. I was still amazed that I'd been able to ignore my feelings for so long because part of me had always known that no one fit me like Max did. We were two halves of the same coin, two adjoining pieces of the same puzzle. We just fit . . . in every way.

Max swatted my ass as I walked past him with the plate. He picked up the dessert dishes I'd retrieved before he'd come in and followed me out of the kitchen. "Just so you know," he said behind me as we approached our parents, "you will be showing me how much you love me as soon as we get home."

And I smiled. I almost corrected him, but decided against it. Instead, I'd spend the rest of my life showing
him that I wasn't only interested in demonstrating my love in the privacy of our home. I wanted it to be on permanent display so the whole world knew that Max Samson was mine.

And I was his.

***

The rest of the night passed by smoothly, and we made our exit soon after my parents headed back to their hotel.

Normally Max never missed an opportunity to touch me in some way, no matter how small. But as the night had worn on, his touch was noticeably absent. And in the car, I couldn't help but notice the determination on his face, as if he were struggling with something. When I moved my hand to the center console to brush his, he jerked back before I made contact. That's when it dawned on me: the bastard was going to make me beg.

Max had perfected the art of driving me insane. Actually, I often thought he had been specifically built for
that purpose alone. But this was a game that two could play.

When we arrived home, I followed him up the path to the front door. As he unlocked it, I pressed into him from behind, causing my chest to rest on his strong back.

He ceased all movement. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just a little cold," I replied, adding a shiver for good measure.

"It's August, doll." He turned slightly so he could see me.

I simply quirked an eyebrow at him in response. He finally opened the door, and as soon as we were inside, I started shedding clothes. It began innocently, me slipping off my red, peep-toe pumps one at a time and dropping them to the ground.

But then came my halter top. And then my jeans. I sprinkled these up the stairs as I made my way to the bedroom. When I was about four steps from the top, I unclasped my bra and let it fall to the stairs. I didn't need to look back to know that Max hadn't moved from the foyer. I could
feel
his eyes on me, enjoying the show, yet trying like hell not to sprint up the stairs and carry me the rest of the way to our bed. Once I was upstairs and out of his eyesight, I took off my last remaining article of clothing: my black lace panties. I giggled to myself as I tossed them over the railing. When I heard his footsteps pounding against the floor in pursuit, I dashed toward our bedroom, laughing the whole way.

I stopped just before the bed and turned around
, observing him as he slowly stalked toward me, as a predator would approach its prey. I watched him shuck his own clothing, so that when he reached me he was completely nude.

He laid his hands on my shoulders, and then began to drag them down my arms, before moving them to my stomach, and back up so he could fondle my breasts.

"I love seeing my hands on you," he said slowly, my body instantly responding to the sound of his raspy voice against my ear.

"I love feeling them there."
I wanted to roll my head back and bask in the pleasure his hands were doling out, but there was something so primitively erotic about watching him appraise my body that I couldn't look away.

He stepped closer to me, his erection pushing into my pelvis deliciously.

"I thought you were playing hard to get?" I asked him.

His eyes shot to mine, the
ir burning intensity rocketing warmth through my entire body. "I'm not hard to get.
You've
always had
me
.

For a few minutes after he spoke, we did nothing.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t kiss. And truth be told, I couldn’t be sure if we even breathed. As always, I instantly got so lost in him, in us, that the thought of doing anything other than just being with him hadn’t even crossed my mind. I savored this time spent with him, and silently cursed myself for almost ruining the chance to experience it.

Eventually, his mouth moved purposefully toward mine, my lips meeting his with the same intensity. As much as I adored our ability to simply be, I loved these moments too. When a kiss began slowly, our tongues licking, pulling, and sucking until our hearts began to race faster and our breaths quickened.

I moaned against his mouth, my hands massaging down the length of his spine and back up again, feeling the pull of his skin beneath my fingers.
He lowered me onto the bed and his hand immediately found my thigh, draping it over his hip so we could grind softly against one another. I felt myself get even wetter as his cock teased me until I was ready to beg to have him inside me.

His fingers danced tantalizingly down my legs and settled between my thighs. Reflexively, I thrust my hips against his hand, gaining the friction I craved. “So smooth,” he groaned out as he slid a finger inside me, expertly stroking the most sensitive part of me.