Picking Up the Pieces (42 page)

His fingers increased their speed, causing more of the slickness to slide into his palm as he swirled and stroked me toward orgasm.
When my hand reached down to grip his shaft, he moved it away slowly. “Mmm-mmm,” he groaned teasingly. “You’ll feel me when I’m inside you. Not until then.”

I whined playfully, but the truth was I liked it.
The idea that I couldn’t please him right away only turned me on more. He took his time licking his way down every inch of my body, across my arms and down my stomach to my toes and back up my legs, until his warm mouth finally ceased its torturously long journey and came to a stop at just the right spot.

Slowly at first, and then with increasing speed, he made love to me with his tongue
—licking, thrusting, flicking, and sucking wildly until my need to have him inside me was excruciating. My subtle sounds grew steadily louder until I was sure the whole street knew what we were up to.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming as his tongue and fingers worked inside me perfectly.
“Please,” I finally begged, knowing that I couldn’t hold out much longer. But he didn’t let up. He teased me, bringing me just to the brink of orgasm before slowly tapering off his movements.
God, he knows me better than I know myself.

Slowly, he brought his mouth back up to mine, kissing every speck of skin on the path up to my lips.
I writhed beneath him, waiting impatiently for him to fill the emptiness in me that only he could ever fill. Then he pulled away for a moment, his gaze finding mine before speaking. “What is it you want?” he asked, a slight smile peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

I stilled my body before speaking, my eyes returning his intimate stare.
“What I always want,” I said simply, knowing he loved to hear it. “You.”

And that's exactly what he gave. What he'd always given. And as he thrust solidly into me, causing my body to climb even closer toward release, I was so incredibly thankful for getting this chance that I really hadn't deserved. And as he pounded into me and brought me to the brink of shattering, love swelled even more in my chest because I knew that he'd be there to pick up the pieces after. In his arms, I'd always be whole.

"Let go, doll. I wanna see you fall apart beneath me."

I met his thrusts, my hands roving wildly over his body, until finally my body seized and my orgasm rocked through me.

He continued to pump inside of me, causing my body to continue to shake as my muscles contracted, making me even tighter for him.

He groaned his release, emptying inside of me. "God, I'm so glad we stopped using condoms. The feel of you around me with nothing between us is incredible." He lowered himself onto his side so that half of his body draped over me.

I laughed. "You are a true romantic, you know that?"

"Just speaking the truth," he replied as he buried his face in the crook of my neck.

"So did I show you?" I asked.

"Show me what?"

I turned so that we were facing each other. "How much I love you," I whispered.

His sexy smirk primed my body for him again. "You did. But maybe you should show me again. Just to be sure."

"Whatever it takes," I replied sincerely.

And as we began to get lost in each other again, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I loved this man. He was my one, my only, my Max.

Epilogue: Max

Nearly Five Years Later

“In five, four, three, two . . . ,” Scott pointed at me.

             
“We’re here with Anton Gavrikov," I began, "who scored the tying goal in the Flyers come-from-behind victory. Gav, at the start of the third period, you were down by three goals. What was the secret to today’s win?”

Gav brushed his sweaty hair from his eyes with his fingers as he leaned toward the mic I was holding and spoke with a thick accent that reminded me of
Arnold Schwarzenegger’s. “We were never out of it, you know. All the guys worked together.” He looked toward his teammates, who were filing excitedly toward the locker room. “We just kept up our speed and never stopped attacking. And I guess it paid off ‘cause we won in the end.”

It was no secret that I loved when the Flyers won.
How could I not love my home team, especially when I was one of the on-ice broadcasters? But what I loved more than just watching the Flyers win, was watching them win when they were the underdogs. Just when you thought they were down and out, they’d pull off nothing short of a miracle at the end. “You know, these are the kinda games fans love to watch, Gav. New York's favored, they’re up by three in the third. It looks like they’re gonna win, and then you take a risky shot that could quite possibly result in New York recovering the puck and holding it 'til the buzzer. If you’d missed, fans might've said you should’ve been more patient, waited ‘til the right time to strike, gotten a little closer to the net. What made you take the shot when you did?”

“Well, there wasn’t much thought that went into it. More reflex than anything else.
I saw an opportunity and I took it. Didn’t really think about
not
taking it. Just brought my stick back and focused my eyes on the goal.”

I chuckled at Gav’s confidence.
I knew what it was like to fight for something you wanted—something you
needed.
To know that sometimes you just had to go for it and fuck what anyone else thought. Because while you might miss nine out of ten times, it was the one time that you made it that everyone would remember. That one time—that was the game changer.

"Then that gave us the opportunity we had in overtime. It's almost like a new game when that happens.
A fresh start. Plus you're pumped up ‘cause you've just come back from behind. There's already a feeling that you've won."

“And you think that attitude is what helped you finish the game?"

"Yeah, they gave us a second chance. We weren't gonna screw it up again."

"Well, it paid off. People were pulling for you, and you found a way to win.
The only thing that matters is the score at the end." I shook his hand, signaling that our brief interview was coming to a close. "Well, I'll let you go celebrate with the guys. Great win today."

***

Thankfully, the drive home didn’t take long. Saturday afternoon games were my favorite. I’d be home in time for dinner and to put Maddie to bed. Those were the moments I cherished most now. As much as I loved the fast-paced atmosphere that broadcasting provided, nothing beat reading a bedtime story to my daughter. Except maybe holding her mother in my arms as we lay in bed together after a hectic day.

The smell of homemade Italian food and Maddie's eager embrace greeted me the second I entered the door.
“Daddy!” she screeched with her little arms stretched around my legs. “We made you dinner.” I knelt down to scoop her into my arms and squeeze her against my chest.

“What’d you make together?” I asked, overemphasizing my excitement.
“It smells great.”

“Chicken . . .” She held her finger to her lips like she was deep in thought.
“With cheese,” she added. “And sauce . . .”

I carried Maddie into the kitchen and Lily turned around to face me, leaning against the counter. “Chicken parm,” she mouthed with a coy grin.
“Shh,” she warned, not wanting to spoil our three-year-old daughter's fun at remembering the dinner she helped cook.

As I watched Maddie try to remember the menu, I smiled widely.
I’d recognize that face anywhere: the way the left corner of her mouth raised slightly more than her right when she smiled, how her green eyes shimmered with specks of bronze when the light hit them just right. Maddie’s dark hair hung to her shoulders and her brow was furrowed, deep in thought. “You know,” I said, tapping her on the nose playfully, “you look just like Mommy when you do that.” I held up my finger to my lips to imitate her expression, and she giggled at me.

My eyes raised to Lily, who pushed off the counter and walked slowly, gracefully across the kitchen toward me.
“She does, does she?”

“Yup, dead ringer,” I said, pulling her into me so I could hold them both close.
“I think we’re in trouble. Is it wrong to keep her locked in the house for the next thirty years?”

Lily’s expression told me I’d probably have a tough time doing that.
“How was your day?” she asked.

“Great.
Flyers won,” I said, giving Maddie a kiss on the forehead before lowering her to the ground. "Even better now that I get to see you," I said, placing a soft kiss on Lily's warm lips. Even after all this time, it was still nearly impossible for me to kiss her without wanting to take things further. I brought my fingers up to the locket I had given her a few months after we met and untwisted the chain. I was always happy to see her wearing it, knowing she was keeping a piece of me close to her.

“Why don’t you go wash your hands for dinner, honey," Lily said, and Maddie turned to scamper down the hall toward the bathroom.

"You know how beautiful you are?" I asked, cradling Lily's chin with my hand as I looked into her eyes.

"Oh stop, Max," she replied with a shy smile. "Even like this?"
She ran a hand over her growing belly and I placed mine over hers, hoping to get a feel of my son moving around.

I gazed into her warm eyes before answering her question.
“Especially
like this.”

***

Forty-five minutes later, Lily had Maddie in the bath, and I was finishing up with the dishes before putting Maddie to bed. When she was finished, Maddie came bounding down the stairs at rapid speed.
She may have gotten her looks from her mother, but she definitely got her recklessness from me
. The thought made me grin. She was a perfect combination of the two of us.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked her. "I thought I was gonna come up and tuck you in?"

“You are. Come on.” She tugged lightly on my shirt, and I scooped her up in my arms.

Once we reached the second floor, I lowered Maddie to the ground. “Why don’t you go into your room and pick out a bedtime story. I’ll be
there in a minute.” As Maddie disappeared to pick out a book, Lily came
out of the bathroom. “You know how I like a good wet T-shirt contest,” I said, gesturing to her dampened shirt. “And you didn’t even invite me?”

“Your daughter," she laughed.
“She’s wild.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.
And I’m pretty sure she gets that trait from me.”

“Oh, ya think?” she joked.

“Hey, speaking of wild, how’d the writing go today?”

“Eh, could be better,” she shrugged. “Got a little done.
Writer’s block, I guess.”

“Hmm,” I said with a hint of subtle seduction that I knew she’d pick up on.
I swept her hair away from her neck and leaned down, allowing my breath to tickle her ear as I spoke. “I bet I can alleviate that writer’s block you were talking about. You know I can be very inspirational.”

Just then I heard the pitter-patter of Maddie’s little feet as she ran toward us excitedly.
“Daddy, what about this one?”

“Let’s see.
What do we have here?” I asked, turning away from Lily and taking the book from Maddie’s hand to give her my attention. “
Sleeping Beauty.
Excellent choice.” Then I leaned in to give Lily’s earlobe another teasing nibble. "I can't wait to sleep with
this
beauty later," I whispered.
That'll get her
.

“Stop it,” she scolded with a playful swat to
my chest.

“I was just talking abo
ut the book,” I said innocently, feigning shock as best I could and pointed to the cover.

Her look told me she knew better than to believe that.

“What?” I replied, plastering on the boyish grin I knew she couldn’t resist. “Girl meets guy . . . they fall in love, but they can’t be together. A bunch of other crap happens, and neither one of them realizes they were destined to spend the rest of their lives with each other until the dashingly handsome prince kisses her to wake her up from her hellish nightmare.”

She couldn’t help but
smile at my plot summary. Even I was impressed by how quickly I’d come up with it.
“Hmm . . . I dunno. I always sort of had you pegged as more of a knight.”

I laughed softly through my
nose as I planted a kiss on her forehead. “Whatever works for you as long as the ending’s still the same. They get married, have babies, and have tons of great sex,” I added quickly under my breath to be sure Maddie couldn’t hear.

She shook her head at my last addition.
Works every time.
"Only you can make a fairy tale sound dirty," she laughed, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in close.

I took a moment to gaze into those eyes that would always remind me that it was always her. She was my piece of perfect. And she
always would be. “Aw, come on, doll,” I said with a seductive smirk. “You know how I love happy endings.”

Her expression fell somewhere between playful scolding and heated desire. But her voice held sincerity when she spoke. “Me too, Max,” she smiled. “Me too.
”