Текст книги "Becoming His"
Автор книги: Mariah Dietz
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Friday arrives and I enter the Philosophy classroom and text Max since the room is still fairly desolate.
Me: Four weeks and 1 day left … not that I’m counting or anything … ;)
I tuck it in my bag and wait for class to begin.
Professor Parker stands in front of the class¸ holding a plastic Easter egg and a stuffed chicken. “Chicken or egg? Egg or chicken? What came first? Who wants to begin?”
“The rooster came first … pun intended.” I look over my shoulder to see a guy smiling widely.
“Thank you, Mr. Loftus, for your wise assessment,” Professor Parker says over the laughs and snickers.
“The egg.” I glance behind me and see a petite brunette with a smug smile on her face. “An egg could have come from divine creation or the product of necessity since the creature hadn’t existed.”
“You don’t look convinced, Ms. Bosse.” My eyes widen slightly as they meet my professor’s. He’s staring at me while casually leaning against the podium with an amused smile.
“I just think the question is much broader than what we’re discussing.” Professor Parker nods for me to continue. “I think when people ask what came first, the chicken or the egg, it’s referencing instinct versus a learned action.”
“Such as?” he asks, raising his eyebrows as his head tilts slightly to the side, making me wonder if I’m grossly misinterpreting the question.
“I think certain fears are instinct—like how infants fear being placed on their backs with their stomachs exposed. Instinctively, they know they’re more susceptible to being injured because their vital organs are accessible.”
“Okay, fear.” He nods. “What else?”
“Breathing.” Another voice behind me speaks out.
Professor Parker looks to me and I squirm with unease.
“Not exactly. Breathing is an instinct, but it’s a physical instinct. It’s something our bodies are wired to do, like creating cells or our hearts beating. You can’t stop it or really control it other than for a few brief moments when you focus on it. So it’s along the same theory, because instincts you can’t control. I’m more referring to things outside of the body.”
“Okay so fear is an instinct, are all fears?”
“Of course not,” I reply instantly.
“Fear is fear. How can you be taught to fear something?” the brunette behind me asks.
I feel my chin tilt as I look to her. “How are you taught to hate? Fear is a powerful emotion, but people can influence you to fear things that you didn’t know to fear. We’re born to fear certain things for self-preservation; it’s natural and instinctual. However, there are many fears simply from not understand things, or from differences amongst beliefs or physical appearances. They’ve always existed in one form or another. Historically they led to wars and horrible acts of violence, like the Salem witch trials or the killing of scientists because it was against religious beliefs or the holocaust. These fears still exist, but now it’s more targeted to either sell materials or for political advantages.”
“Okay, so let’s go back to the instincts. What else is an emotional instinct?”
“Love,” I respond, earning a few snickers. “It’s been proven that when you’re born, your first love is your mother. Although you can’t communicate with her, or understand most of the interactions, you have an instant bond and love that you share with her—a dependency.”
Professor Parker looks at me with dark brown eyes gleaming with a look of excitement and pride. “Welcome to Philosophy, Ms. Bosse.”
The next morning I find myself heading to the track on campus. I haven’t been running since I’ve been in San Diego, and my muscles and mind are feeling slightly restless from the physical withdrawals.
Being six a.m. on a Saturday, the place is practically barren. I drop my bag and begin stretching as I flip through my playlists.
The outside world turns off as I begin to jog, feeling my muscles loosen up, falling into the familiar pattern.
I run for over an hour, pushing myself to the point my lungs feel the familiar lick of pain and my legs are slightly numb and wobbly. Taking a long pull from my water bottle, I wipe my face before taking a couple of deep breaths. A group of girls pass by, followed by an older man that is wiry and confident in his stride. The girl behind him catches my attention. I watch for a second longer because she’s running fast, as if someone’s chasing her. She rounds the corner, and I notice her head turn to look over her shoulder, as though she really expects to see someone in her wake. I scan behind her through the crowd of girls and catch sight of a guy with bright neon green and black sneakers that has a practiced form and a good pace. Nearly instantly, a girl wearing a bright purple outfit that makes her look like she should be at a gym, rather than a track, begins to speed up. Whether to show off, or just to push herself I’m not sure, but I sit and watch for a few moments before packing my things up and heading home.
The next week passes quickly as we get used to the routine of classes and a schedule for the first time in a few months.
I find myself at the track the following Saturday, still unable to sleep past six. I insert my earbuds and set off, working my muscles and disappearing into an existence of breathing and soft melodies.
Finishing, I gather my belongings and rest my hands on my head to open my lungs for more air.
“You keep quite the pace.” I turn my head slightly, my eyes still trained down, and see the familiar neon green and black tennis shoes I’ve seen nearly every morning the past couple of weeks. My eyes travel up to his face where he wears a giant grin that displays a single dimple on his right cheek and perfect white teeth. He’s undoubtedly attractive, with a golden tan and eyes that are nearly as dark as mine, and for some reason he seems a bit familiar, but I can’t place him.
“Sorry?” I don’t know why I just apologized, I heard what he said.
“You’re fast,” he says, running a hand over his hair in a movement too similar to Max to go unnoticed. I smile casually and sling my bag over my shoulder to indicate my departure. He’s fast too, though I have no intention of admitting that to him.
“So, I heard there’s a coffee shop around the corner. They’re supposed to have killer bagels. You want to check it out?”
I tighten my grip on my backpack and take a step back. “Sorry, I have plans with my boyfriend.”
“Alright, well I’ll see you later,” he says. The grin on his face doesn’t falter at the mention of boyfriend. I nod once and turn on my heel and head back to my apartment.
“I don’t want to look like I’m heading to prom,” I instruct Kendall as she begins setting to work on my hair in preparation of a black and white themed party we’re attending tonight. Kendall grins and begins twisting and pinning sections of hair as she asks about how things are going, and I start discussing my favorite subject: Max.
Kendall shares about Jameson, and then the subject of classes comes up as she’s curling her hair into large waves. I’d told her about Nate being in my Philosophy class and had listened to her psychoanalyze Max’s response to finding out. It’s not surprising when she asks for an update on how things have been going with Nate.
I shrug nonchalantly; there isn’t much to report.
“You know you don’t have to hate Nate because I do.” Kendall starts out slowly. “I mean, we both know he’s a total douche, but you don’t have to hate him for me. If you want to tell Max the history there, it’s fine.”
I nod. “I know,” I reply quietly, fiddling with a makeup brush to prevent admitting Max already knows. I think most everyone we went to school with knows that Kendall and Nate hooked up and that he dumped her the following day.
“Hey you want to go shopping tomorrow? I need some new running shoes. This morning my right one started making a terrible popping sound.”
“You went running on a Saturday?” she asks, her face twisting into a frown as her forehead creases. “Were you the only person out there?”
I laugh at her disgust and watch as she sprays another wave into place. “One of the very few. I think a guy was trying to hit on me. He was kind of hot. I was thinking I could get his name for Shelby since I know she hasn’t dated anyone since she and Emilio broke up.”
“Ace, you don’t set someone up with a guy that hits on you. It’s weird.” I laugh at her expression and shrug.
“It’s not like we have a history. He asked me for bagels.”
“Yeah, but obviously he was interested in you, so imagine if he does begin dating her and the two of them hang out with us. Wouldn’t that be weird? I can’t imagine Max taking it well.”
I almost mention that Jameson had shown interest in me when he had first met me, but opt not to knowing she’s likely right.
“Can you zip me?” I ask, holding my dress in place with my arm tightly locked around my midsection as I head into my bathroom where Kendall faces the mirror with her mouth popped open, carefully applying her makeup.
She puts down her brush and zips me then slaps my backside, letting out a loud cheer that echoes off of the walls, making me laugh. I turn around glancing at my reflection. My dress is black and strapless with a straight neckline that cuts across my chest, allowing only the hint of cleavage, but snug enough I can move freely and be safe from having any wardrobe malfunctions, or “nip dips” as Kendall so eloquently puts it. The dress goes down to my mid-thigh with a slit that goes up my right.
“Will you do my makeup?” I run my fingers along the compacts lining the counter. I wear makeup enough that I do a decent job, but I always wear makeup to enhance and conceal. Kendall does makeup as a statement and tonight I want something bold.
“You really are crazy about him, aren’t you?” she asks opening a small bottle.
“It’s a little ridiculous.”
“My God!” Kendall growls, looking at her phone once again. “Why doesn’t he put a god dammed ankle bracelet on me so he can track my every move? I told him we were on our way!”
I carefully navigate around some double parked cars and pause in front of a house that has the front door agape with people filing in and out. “It’s been over an hour since we said we’d be here. He’s just worried.” I glance around for parking, “Your feet are going to hate you in a couple of hours. Why don’t you get out, and I’ll park.”
“Ace, I’m not leaving you. It’s late, it’s dark, we don’t know the area, you’re in heels, and you forgot your phone … we have all the ingredients for a horror movie here. Jameson said he’ll meet us in the yard. I guess the house is packed,” Kendall explains as we follow the music and loud voices spilling down the block from where we parked.
We reach the driveway where more people stream through the open door, and I catch sight of Jameson standing like a pillar on the grass, searching for Kendall. His eyes grow wide, and his smile deepens as he sees her.
“Wow, you guys look amazing!” he says without even turning to see me. She beams and leans forward, pressing her lips to his.
“Thanks, so do you.” She runs a hand down his black button-down shirt and white tie.
“Where’s Max?” I ask, peering around Jameson at the horde of people filling up the room behind him.
“Inside. I’m under strict orders to bring you to him.” His eyes settle on my face, giving me a knowing smile. He nods his head to the side, instructing us to follow him as we step out of the way of more people trying to get in. “He thought you were ignoring him and got a little worked up. He’s fine now. Landon and Wes gave him a couple of drinks and now they’re looking for Wes’s mystery girl.” I raise my eyebrows and he shakes his head. I shrug as he takes Kendall’s hand and leads us into the house.
The place is packed. Loud music penetrates the air as bodies adorned in black and white move and sway in every direction. We’re swallowed into the monochromatic color scheme where it’s difficult to see where one ends and the next begins. Bright colored lights flashing highlight people’s faces and hands. I scan the crowds, tightly gripping Kendall’s hand so I don’t lose her.
A few stray hands grope at me as we make it further into the house; it’s difficult to know whether any of them are actually intending to do so. With everyone so tightly crammed in here, it’s very possible I’m simply a casualty.
Practically all of the furniture has been removed so it’s hard to tell what room we’re in. Eventually Kendall squeezes my hand and I look up from the web of arms and hands I’m working to avoid and see Max striding toward me, a heart gripping smile on his lips.
I release her hand as he grabs me in his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest, as his warm, familiar scent engulfs me before his mouth meets mine in a consuming kiss. His breath lingers against my mouth with the faint taste of beer.
He takes a step back, holding my hands as his eyes shine with a smile. “You look fucking incredible!”
“Kendall made me over.”
His eyes travel over my body several times before his head shakes. “It’s not the makeup or the hair. It’s just you.” My heart hammers painfully in my chest at his words.
“You look pretty amazing yourself!” And he does, dressed in a black dress shirt and black tie that make his eyes look a more intense blue.
“Come here, I want you to meet Wes,” Max yells over the noise. Tightening his grip on my hand and wrapping the other around my waist, he guides me forward.
I see Landon first, looking relaxed. His head tilted back as he laughs. Max’s hands tighten and I turn, catching his smile spread across his clean-shaven face. I glance back to Landon and see the owner of the neon green and black track shoes; his brown eyes alight with alcohol and laughter until he notices me. I watch his stance straighten as the same smile I’d seen this morning suddenly falters.
“Ace, this is my good friend Wes. Wes, this is my girlfriend, Ace,” Max says, gesturing between us. “I told you she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.”
“Actually—” I begin in an attempt to explain that we’d briefly met this morning, sans the breakfast invite.
“Get this, babe, he’s been stalking a chick at the track and this morning he finally got the balls to talk to her, and she blew off his playboy ass because she has a boyfriend. He thinks he’s going to sweep her off her feet and steal her from the poor sap.” Max laughs, obviously amused by this, and my heart staggers with nerves.
I look over to Kendall and can see that she’s connected the two of us as she gives a slight shake of her head, telling me to not say anything.
I lean further into Max and clear my throat. “Sounds like a losing battle.”
Max leans down, kissing me right below my ear. “Let’s dance,” he whispers, his lips still close enough they tickle my skin. I nod happy to have an excuse to step away while I process this situation.
Max leads us into the sea of people before stopping and pulling me close. I place both of my hands on his chest, where they travel around to his back as I kiss him playfully, pushing my body along his. Max’s hands run down my sides, resting on my hips as I turn around and begin moving with the music and Max. We dance for several songs, lost in our own world.
“Miller!” I look up to see a couple of guys approach us with bright smiles. Max’s face lights up, and they greet one another in a half hug. Max introduces me to David and Eli, more baseball friends. I smile politely as they catch up, but eventually stop listening when I hear them discussing different women they’re looking to sleep with.
Thankfully, I catch sight of some friends and motion to Max where I’m going. He scans the crowd and then gives me a lingering kiss before I turn and make my way through the bodies to hug my friend Amanda. I look over my shoulder when she releases me and see Max engaged in conversation with his friends, his eyes focused on me.
I continue to feel his eyes until dancing bodies seem to push more space between us. After a while I head back to find Max and discover a small swarm of girls surrounding them. Some are dancing, others pawing, all fighting for their attention. I battle my initial impulse to escape and take a deep breath, carefully sliding between two girls. I’m thankful to notice the bored expression on Max’s face as his friends flirt back with the girls.
Max’s lips turn up in a relieved smile, and I watch him place his hand to a girl’s shoulder and mutter “Excuse me,” as he carefully moves to stand beside me. He greets me by pressing his lips to mine and a hand to my lower back. I thread my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer as his tongue slides against mine. My body bows, arching to press further against his chest. The kiss ends as we’re jostled by a group of people being too rowdy. Max releases a soft growl against my ear in protest and presses a trail of kisses along my jaw to my ear before he pulls back when one of his friends asks a question.
I turn my attention to the crowd still dancing around us. It’s a few hours into the party and a good number of people are already inebriated, while several more hang on the cusp of being so. Most people are having a good time, laughing and talking loudly, flirting as they dance and drink, but as alcohol creates fun for some, it’s also starting to cause drama as I notice a few girls trying to wipe makeup and tears from their faces and couples fighting publicly, not sober enough to care about their surroundings.
Max must realize I’m not paying attention to their conversation because he says a quick goodbye and grabs my hand, pulling me back in the direction we’d been dancing.
We begin dancing again. The music and Max invade my senses, intoxicating me as his hands slide up and down the curves of my body, making my nerves ultra-sensitive with the anticipation of feeling the warmth and pressure of his fingers. His pelvis presses against me, and his lips glide up and down my neck in hot lingering trails.
It all becomes too much. I snake my hand under Max’s shirt and watch his eyes darken and his mouth go a little slack as he reaches his breaking point as well.
“Let’s go.” His voice comes out deep and husky, and I close my eyes and nod. Max grips my sides, allowing me to navigate through the still packed house, continuing to gently squeeze my sides while lightly tracing along the line of my hips.
When we reach the front door I come to a stop and palm my forehead. “My keys. Jameson has my keys.”
Max shakes his head. “They can take your car. I drove him.” Before I can reply, he sweeps an arm under my legs, catching me slightly off guard. I wrap my arms around his neck and he carries me across the yard without another word.
When we reach his Jeep, Max unlocks the doors and sets me down slowly, as though he’s not certain he wants to release me. His hands linger on my lower back as we stare silently at each other. The intense look that we share conveys our need and desire.
Max opens the passenger door and I slide in, making sure that I don’t touch him, knowing that if I start now, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop. I take deep breaths of Max as he closes my door and crosses to the other side.
The only sounds are our slightly labored breaths and the quiet stream of the radio as we steal glances of one another. Our eyes lock and something passes between us as we both realize the line we’re about to cross. Nerves and excitement course through me since we’re going at least twenty over the speed limit. The practical side of me wants to tell him to slow down as the needle edges higher, but my lips refuse to utter the words.
Max pulls into the driveway. I quickly undo my seat belt and open my door, sliding out in one fluid motion. Max is beside me in the blink of an eye with the most smoldering look in his eyes. After reading so many books, I’ve often wondered if it was possible to communicate a desire with just a look, and I know in this moment it is.
I reach forward and slide my arms around Max’s neck, pulling myself flush against his chest, and kiss him with all of the heat, passion, and desire that’s been swirling around inside of me for what feels like an eternity. He responds instantly with a matching need, pressing my back against his Jeep. His hands glide along the bottom of my dress, slowly inching up my thighs until the dress restricts him from going any higher.
Gripping his hand in mine, I pull him toward the front door and take his keys from his loose fist and turn to unlock the door as his hands run over my dress. I finally manage to focus on the door long enough to open it, take the few steps required to get us in, and lock it behind us before turning to the staircase.
Anticipation races through me, as well as a burning sense of empowerment from the look that Max gives me confirming that he wants this too. I begin ascending the stairs, draping my hand over the banister for support, hoping that I look graceful rather than stiff like I feel.
I climb six stairs before I look over my shoulder to Max and pause. Reaching up to my hair, I remove the few pins and my hair tumbles around my shoulders and down my back. Max’s eyes fill with lust and desire, and yet I can see the determined look silently telling me we still have several weeks to wait.
Before his thoughts can progress, I brace myself against the railing and reach forward to take the tail of his tie between my fingers and gently tug on it, pulling him towards me before I drop it and saunter up the stairs, letting my hips sway. Max is behind me before I reach the top, his hands pressing against my lower stomach as we hit the landing.
We make it to his bedroom in a tangled mess of groping hands. I hear the door close, and briefly wonder how he managed to do so because his hands haven’t moved from running over every inch of my torso. I feel the wall at my back as I secure my hands in his shirt, pulling the last of it free from his jeans as I hungrily kiss him and feel his weight against me.
My fingers run through his short hair, and I feel something building inside of me that I need to translate. I attempt to by gently biting his bottom lip before pulling my head back, allotting myself enough space to release his tie. He allows me easy access, holding his chin high, as I loosen the knot. As I slip the silk from around his neck, he grazes my ear with his teeth, sending a current of heat and electricity through me that makes it difficult for my hands to focus on releasing the small buttons of his shirt.
Max kisses a path to my lips, and the silkiness of his tongue against mine causes my hands to falter as I momentarily lose all focus. His hands meet mine at the front of his shirt, and he gently moves them away before giving one harsh tug to his shirt, creating an echo of tinkling as the buttons scatter across the wood floor. Max pulls the shirt from his arms, exposing a tight white T-shirt that my hands instantly work to remove. I exert little energy before he reaches down and removes it.
“Max, I want you,” I whisper, staring into his cobalt eyes. They’ve become more heated and alive with want as they dance across my face.
I softly place my hand against his chest and lean forward, kissing him slowly; it’s a tantalizing kiss—a promise, an invitation.
I break away so I can turn around and pull my hair over my shoulder in a silent request to remove my dress. Warmth radiates from his body as he hovers behind me and my heart races. My fears and concerns of rejection whirl through me, making my palms sweat as the moment stretches. Suddenly I feel his lips trace along my spine as his hands settle against my back. He deftly unclasps the dress and lowers the zipper to my tailbone where it ends. I hear his breathing increase, becoming slightly ragged.
Digging my elbows into my sides, I securely hold the dress in place and quickly work to submerge my insecurities. I release my arms and the dress falls around my feet. I hear Max’s intake of breath as I stand in front of him, wearing nothing but a black lace thong and my black heels. My heart pounds so hard in my chest I fear he can hear it.
Slowly turning to face him, I feel a nervous energy course through me as I find his eyes burning into mine. “I need you Max,” I whisper, praying he won’t stop things this time. I don’t think I can take the rejection or humiliation … not when we’re this close.
Max presses his lips to mine, entwining his fingers in my hair. His other hand travels down my back, splaying over the lace of my panties, holding me firmly against him. I feel his chest warm against mine.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve been naked in front of Max; however the last time a lot of alcohol had been consumed and my inhibitions were practically nonexistent, along with my memories of that night. I feel him groan against my mouth, his hands tightening, sending me even further down this path of desire.
I kiss him fiercely, letting my hands travel across his bare shoulders on their own accord, traveling a slow path to the front of his jeans where I unlatch his belt and work to unbutton his jeans. I clutch the denim in my fists and shove them down. Max releases his vise grip and steps out of his shoes without breaking our kiss, then folds each of his legs behind him to remove his socks. He takes a step back and pulls his jeans off, standing before me in a pair of black boxer briefs. I watch as his chest rises and falls with his breaths.
I know without a doubt that I will never forget the way I feel in this moment, or the look in Max’s eyes.
My heart races as I bend my knee, lifting my foot behind me so I can slide my heel off before doing the same with my other shoe, letting them both fall to the ground as Max and I keep our eyes trained on one another, wearing nothing but our underwear. Max takes a step closer to me, kissing me so softly that it concerns me.
“We can wait—”
I kiss him hard, cutting off his protest, and push him toward the bed. Thankfully that’s all the encouragement he seems to need.
He swiftly lifts me, laying me on the bed with a gentleness that doesn’t seem humanly possible. His eyes travel the full length of my body several times as he stands over me, his fingers softly trailing down my body, stopping on my hips. He hooks his index fingers through the black lace, and slides them down my legs, dropping them to the ground.
“God you’re beautiful, Ace.” His voice is quiet as his eyes rake up my body, stopping when he reaches my gaze.
I feel my lips tug up in a small smile. “You’re beautiful,” I whisper. Reaching out, I thread my fingers with his and pull him toward me. He releases my hand and climbs up beside me, holding my cheek as he begins kissing me, slowly, lightly. I stop myself from deepening the kiss, waiting for him to get comfortable and take the lead. His hand slowly runs from my cheek down my neck and over my breast, where it stops. My back instantly arches from the bed as I try to push myself further against his hand, needing to feel the pressure.
His kiss becomes harsher, rougher, as a growl escapes his lips, and I squirm as heat floods between my legs—a constant pulsating need that leaves my body tingling in anticipation. Max’s fingers gently massage my nipple, tugging and kneading my breast as my breathing becomes more ragged. He pulls his lips from mine, and his mouth replaces his fingers as his hand slowly trails down my abdomen to the inner edge of my thigh before running back up to the apex of my inner thigh and then down the inside of my other leg. The sensation makes my hips surge off of the bed as I grip Max’s back.
“Max.” The words leave me, sounding like a groan and a plea.
A small grunt escapes him as he skims his nose along my jaw. His mouth lifts from my breast, and I tug his face to mine, pressing my lips to his to express my need. Slowly, his finger slides back up my thigh and inside of me, and I feel Max’s lips press harder against mine as my hips rise to meet him and a loud moan escapes my lips.
After a few moments of pure ecstasy that leaves me feeling breathless and dazed, Max sits up and reaches over to his nightstand. I watch his chest rise and fall as he pulls a condom from the drawer. He brings it to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth before reaching down between us.
He peers down at me and runs his tongue along his lips, his eyes focused on mine as I reach up to pull him back down to me. I lift my face to meet him and kiss him again, feeling my growing addiction to Max hit an all-time high. He places a hand on either side of my shoulders and slowly lowers himself into me. I gasp and my fingers grasp his sides, digging into his clenched muscles as I continue to stare up into his eyes, working to prevent myself from saying something I won’t be able to take back.
Sex with Max is slightly painful and a little awkward as my brain occasionally attempts to decipher what I should or shouldn’t be doing, but it’s also exhilarating and enormously fulfilling.
Afterward, Max lies stretched out on his side with me firmly pressed to his front so we’re facing one another. He trails kisses along my forehead and nose, down to my mouth, replacing hungry kisses from moments ago with soft tender kisses as his fingers trace up and down my back.
Max climbs off of the bed and returns with a wet washcloth. I quickly sit up and mumble a few awkward words before escaping to the bathroom to clean myself up, grateful that I have my overnight bag in here. I pull on some clean underwear and pajamas and lean against the counter as I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are bright as I soak in my appearance. I’ve never thought of myself as being particularly attractive, especially compared to my sisters, but in this moment I feel beautiful.
I find Max changing the sheets when I come back out and feel completely mortified for a brief moment before he stops and turns to me, wearing a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I swallow a joke about the fact that I obviously hadn’t slept with Pedro when Max crushes his lips to mine and runs a hand through my hair.
