To the Max (21 page)

Too young.

“…run,” Max said, handing her a stash of envelopes and fliers.

She shook her head, trying concentrate. “What?”

“I met Holly on my run,” he repeated. “She gave me this for you. She went to pick up her mail and got yours.”

Oh, that. She looked at the stash. On the top was a golden envelope. “Why is it that the postal service never loses what needs to disappear?” Although it wouldn’t help. Charlene would call. Then her grandma.

“Bills?”

She snorted. Bills she could handle. Hell, she could be playing catch-up with her credit cards and she’d be happy. “Worse. Birthday-party invitation.”

“When? Today?”

“Oh no. My dad’s family needs to coordinate their schedules, so the preparations start early.”

“How early?”

“A month, give or take.”

Max laughed, his beautiful eyes trained on her. “How many schedules need to be coordinated?”

Surprisingly many, considering most of them didn’t work for a living.

“You don’t look too enthusiastic about it,” he pointed out, finishing his breakfast, propped against the counter.

“No, I’m not. This year even less than usual.” A baby out of wedlock wasn’t what the Vaughan family would want for their heiress. Especially her grandma. She was going to have a meltdown. Not there in front of everyone, because it wouldn’t be appropriate, but later, in private.

They spoke for a while—well, Max spoke and Annie did her best to answer without glancing at him. All she could think of was how she’d been literally begging for his fingers. Soaking wet down to her frigging knees, screaming as she came like crazy and he watched. By his amused expression, he knew exactly what was on her mind but didn’t bring it up.

Max took his plate to the sink, and it seemed like he was going to leave.

“Max?”

He turned to her. “Yes?”

“Umm… Are we going to talk about…you know,” she fumbled, feeling totally mortified.

Never mind how embarrassing this was; they needed to discuss what had occurred yesterday, analyze it, agree it was a mistake, and make sure it didn’t happen again.

Max stepped close and tipped her head up. Looked straight into her eyes. “Talk about what? How watching you come blew my mind? How you almost made me spill in my pants?” He moved even closer, his breath slamming against her lips. “About how sweet you tasted? How badly I wanted to make love to you? How much I ached to get inside you? My mouth, my cock?”

He cupped her face, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs, leaving tingles in their wake. He had rough hands, and she loved that. All the men she’d been with before had had soft, perfectly manicured, and cared-for hands. She’d always known there was something missing in their touch but hadn’t realized what. Now she did.

“How I couldn’t sleep all night from the need for you, your smell all over me? How I jacked off twice afterward and still couldn’t get my cock to stand down? How badly I want to kiss you now, rip your clothes off, and take you right on this table? Fucking you again and again until your voice is gone from screaming my name?”

Annie couldn’t answer. Hell, she was sure she’d stopped breathing several questions ago. And that was good, because suddenly she couldn’t remember why having sex on the kitchen table wasn’t a perfectly reasonable suggestion.

“Nope, we aren’t going to talk about it,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because you’ll freak out on me, and I don’t want you to freak out. More than you probably are.”

He brushed her lips with his, softly kissing her, and left.

Her legs gave way and she crumbled on her chair.

Yep, not talking about it made perfect sense.

* * * *

Max got tired of listening to Annie toss and turn. Lying in his room, he stared at the text message she’d sent to him during the day. Not “Yo, Boob Enhancer, what’s up?” as she usually did.

Tonight it’s going to be better if I sleep in my bed and you in yours. Get some perspective.

It was just plain bullshit, so he hadn’t answered. He’d decided to give her some space, though, not to push her too far. After all, he didn’t want to send her packing, and she was very capable of doing so. That had been two hours ago, before he came home and she hurried to go to bed at eight frigging o’clock with some shitty excuse, only to start tossing and turning right away.

Enough was enough.

Her door was closed. Whatever. He marched into the room without even knocking.

Annie was fighting with the pillows and the blankets, cursing under her breath. She froze at the sight of him. “Max, what are you doing? I thought we agreed—”

He didn’t let her finish. He lifted her in his arms and took her to his room. “I agreed to nothing.”

“Max!” she screamed, trying to squirm away from him. No fucking way.

He placed her on his bed and spooned her, trapping her arms with one of his. “Enough, Ace. Settle down. If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t, but I will not sleep ten feet from you, knowing you need me.”

“I don’t need you to sleep.”

“Really? And the current state of your room? You trying a new form of Pilates?”

Annie harrumphed.

“And so you know, I don’t appreciate being turned down by text message.”

“I’m seeing Luigi, and what happened yesterday was totally inappropriate.”

Her snippy tone pissed him off. “You’re in my bed every night. Mine. Not his. You come to me, not to him. Have you let him kiss you since you’ve been seeing him?”

She didn’t answer. She just shook her head.

“Caress you? Have you let him pleasure you? Have you come for him? No, you haven’t. Whatever it is you have with him, it’s nothing like what you have with me. I hate it every time you go out with him. I’m fucking jealous for every second he gets to spend with you. I want to walk up to him and tell him you’re mine. I want you in my bed every night, in my arms.”

She was quiet for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me,” Annie whispered.

“So what is it? I was right there with you when you came in my arms. You were into it. Into me.”

She turned to face him. “Do I have to spell things out for you?”

He stared at her, waiting.

“Fine,” she finally said, looking aggravated. “I’m much older than you. And I’m pregnant. There. I said it.”

“And?”

“And?” she repeated. “What do you mean, and? Aren’t those reasons enough?”

“No. You’re not much older. That’s bullshit. Eight years’ difference.”

She ignored him. “Max, I’m not looking for a hookup.”

“And who says I am?”

“Please. You are the definition of a hookup.”

He’d been a bit of a man slut, granted, but her words hurt. “I’ve been here, in this bed, for the last month. I’ve spent all my free time with you. I’m not after a random hookup. Or any kind of hookup, for that matter.”

“So what are you after?” she asked, confused.

“You.”

By the look on her face, that terrified her even more. “Max, I do like you. More than I should. Way more. You’re handsome, funny. Considerate. Sexy. Smart. You’re a dream guy, but I can’t afford the head injury I’d get when I wake from the dream. Besides, I’m not your type. You’ll get tired of me.”

He was so fucking tired of people telling him who his type ought to be. He grabbed her hand and put it on his straining erection. “What’s that?”

“What—” she said, trying to jerk her hand away.

He tightened his hold and kept it on his groin. “That. Under your hand. What is that?”

“Umm. A hard-on?”

“Exactly. A permanent one. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time already. Spread under me, screaming my name while I fuck you. So don’t tell me you’re not my type. And get tired of you? No fucking way. Not in your lifetime. I love being with you, or do you think I’ve been coerced into spending all my time home? It’s not only sex I want from you.“

She was not listening to him. “This can get extremely complicated. I’m pregnant. It’s not me alone we’re talking about. Me and the baby—we’re a set.”

Max snorted. “I know you’re pregnant. Every time the baby has kicked, I’ve been there. I know it’s not only you, that you both come together.”

Even Luigi came with the set, if the ass decided to stick around for his kid.

Annie closed her eyes. Shook her head. “We need to stop this before it goes any further and develops into an intimate relationship.”

Her words hit him like a freight train. He stilled. “I’ve watched you come apart in my arms. I’ve held you while you slept. I’ve felt your baby kick. No, I haven’t fucked you. My dick hasn’t been inside you. But don’t be mistaken; we do have an intimate relationship.”

He stood up, grabbed his clothes from the chair, and left. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he needed to get some air.

* * * *

Annie sat on the bed, at first stunned that he’d walked out on her. Then ashamed, because he’d been right. They did have a relationship. A very intimate one. And she was acting like a kid, not him. She’d heard the door bang, so she knew Max had left. Nevertheless, when the doorbell rang, she ran downstairs, hoping he had forgotten his keys.

It was Aunt Maggie, carrying several bags. She had her own set of keys. Hell, until a year ago, Max had still been living with her and going back and forth to this place. But since Annie had moved in, the old lady had never let herself in or used the keys in any way.

“Hi,” Annie greeted her.

“Good evening, darling. Sorry I’ve come so late, but James and Tate just drove me back from Rosita’s and I brought some food,” she explained. “It’s Nils’s. Not as good as mine but decent enough.”

Annie took the bags from her. “Thanks.”

“Where is he?” Aunt Maggie asked, looking around.

“He went out.” Annie tried to pretend that everything was fine, but she sucked at it.

“Oh. Okay,” she mumbled, sucking as badly as Annie at pretending.

While Annie started unpacking, Aunt Maggie said, “I made sure there’s no raw cheese or anything that may not be suitable.”

“You know I’m—”

“Pregnant. Yes. Congratulations, my dear.” She reached for Annie and hugged her. “It’s written on your face.”

“It’s not Max’s,” she hurried to explain, mortified the old lady would think otherwise.

“Oh, I know,” Aunt Maggie said, waving at her.

Annie felt sad. Disappointed, somehow. “Did Max tell you?”

“Of course not. I know because if it had been Max’s, he’d have told us long ago. There’s no way he would have kept it from us. How far along are you?”

“Four months,” she said, patting at her still rather small stomach.

Aunt Maggie smiled at her, her eyes soft. “My boy is not what he looks like. I love Cole and James and Max as if they were my own children. They’re pure gold, but I got Max when he was just a baby. I know him completely. He seems carefree and immature, but he isn’t. You can lean on him. He’s solid as a rock.”

Yes, he was very sure of himself. She, on the other hand, was a mess.

When Aunt Maggie left, Annie went to her room to get her cell, pulled up his details, and studied the picture she’d taken of him one night when they’d been goofing around. Yes, his looks were staggering, but there was more to Max than looks. So much more. Could she risk it? She didn’t know, but no matter what, she needed to explain herself. Erase the hurt she’d caused him. She wanted him smiling and relaxed, like on the picture on her screen, not in pain, his face carved in stone as when he’d left. She was about to call, but at the last second decided not to. This was something she had to do face-to-face.

She didn’t want to risk missing him, so she went back to his room.

She waited and waited, but he didn’t come home.

Chapter Thirteen

Max was surprised to find both of his brothers in James’s garage, the door up, drinking beer while rain poured outside. By the disgruntled look on Cole’s face, he wasn’t having a great night either.

“Did I get you in the doghouse?” Max asked his older brother. Because if so, then that had been fast.

“Nope,” James said. “He got himself there. He even got a voice message in Klingon. He was right. Extremely hostile language.”

Max picked up a beer and sat down beside Cole. “What did you do?”

Cole grumbled. “Apparently I’m being an unreasonable prick.”

“Christy is right on that one,” James stated.

“How do you know? You haven’t heard why—”

“We don’t need to. You are an unreasonable prick most of the time, so whatever Christy says you did wrong, you did, and she’s absolutely right.”

“Did you carry her out of the exotic aerobics on your shoulder again?” Max asked.

“Of course not. The three of us were in the locker room talking the last time they had that damn class. Not that I won’t carry her out again, screaming and kicking if need be,” Cole muttered as if to himself. Then he turned to Max. “And you? What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something? Can’t I be here just to keep you company?”

Both his brothers lifted their brows.

“Have you looked at your face?” James pointed at him. “Your jaw is so tense, you must be fucking all your teeth up.”

Max rubbed his neck and took a deep breath, trying to relax. “Not sure if you guys are the most appropriate people to give me advice, seeing as Cole is hiding from his one-hundred-pounds-lighter fiancée, and you—”

“Hey! I give great advice,” James complained. “Whenever you morons agree to listen to me. And even if I didn’t, I’m the only one so far who has managed to marry the girl of his dreams. I have inside intel.”

True. Because Cole and Max were apparently batting zero.

“I pushed the issue,” Max admitted. “I wanted her to choose, and I wanted her to choose me.”

“She didn’t? She picked the other guy?”

“Not exactly. She just didn’t choose. It seems she has her reservations about me. I’m not suitable. Or reliable.”

Cole studied him. “You’re taking this hard.”

Fuck, yeah, he was taking it hard. Her not even acknowledging that they had an intimate relationship had been a huge blow. A reality check he hadn’t been ready for.