Текст книги "Becoming His"
Автор книги: Mariah Dietz
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
“Since when do you sleep in pajamas?”
“Since my girlfriend told me she wanted a week after the first time we slept together.” He looks down at his clothes. “Extra barriers,” he explains.
I laugh and sit beside him. I’m slightly shocked that the subject of sex and my inexperience doesn’t have me attempting to change the subject. In my head I hear my freshmen health teacher, Mr. Boyd, instructing the class that “if you aren’t ready to talk about sex, you aren’t ready to have sex.”
“How are you feeling? Are you sore?” Max asks, running his hand through my hair and down my cheekbone. Friday night he had asked me repeatedly if I was okay, and then again on Saturday night once things were settled.
I am, but I shake my head. “Now I just want more.”
Max grins. “Are you saying you just want me for my body?”
“Are you saying you’re objecting?” I tease, walking over to the door and flipping off the lights.
The TV casts a light glow in the room, illuminating Max as he stands and intercepts me at the side of the bed. All we do is kiss, but it’s filled with passion and promises and is hot as hell.
The next morning I open my eyes and see Max’s face inches from mine, his eyes still closed. I stare at him, memorizing every minute detail—every line, every curve, every eyelash. There’s nothing extraordinarily special about this moment, nothing significant and earth-shattering, yet I know instinctually that I’ll remember it and how Max makes me feel for the rest of my life.
I must have drifted off again. When I stretch my arm out to touch Max and feel nothing but cool linen, my eyes pop open and glance toward my attached bathroom to find the door wide open and the lights off. I incoherently mutter my disappointment into my pillow before I climb out of bed and check the rest of the apartment with no sign of him. I check my phone to ensure there aren’t any messages before going to take a shower, deciding that Max must have gone with Jameson to work out. My mom’s right; our generation has missed out since pen and paper is archaic.
I finish rinsing the shampoo from my hair as the shower curtain slowly opens, making me scream and flail in a maneuver that I’m sure is anything but sexy.
“Sorry, sorry!” Max says, trying to hide a smile. “I was just going to see if I could join you, not scare you.”
“Did you not watch Psycho?” I cry, feeling my heart race through my palm clinging to my chest.
“I’m surprised you have,” he teases.
I splash a handful of water at his face and chest. “Get in here, Norman Bates.” He laughs and pulls off his clothes with a couple of swift movements before getting in the shower.
My eyes travel over Max, etching every detail of him into my mind that I wasn’t able to see earlier this morning. He’s so beautiful it’s difficult for my eyes to focus on a single spot as they rove over his face and body, devouring him.
“Where did you go?” I ask, reaching for the conditioner as I shrink back so I take up as little room as possible. Shower scenes in movies have both characters looking flawlessly beautiful with water cascading over them, making them look sensual and sexy. Glancing over at Max, it confirms that he could easily do one of these scenes. However I can feel my wet hair sticking to my shoulders in thick clumps, and there’s a pretty good possibility that I have raccoon eyes from my mascara, plus the obvious fact I’m naked, surrounded by very bright fluorescent lighting. Thank God I already shaved.
Max intercepts my reach for the conditioner. Opening the bottle, he pours some into his palm. “Coffee and muffins.” He nods at me, eyeing my hair. I look at him, seriously considering objecting to this idea, when he holds up his other hand and extends his index finger down and turns it, indicating for me to turn.
He gently rubs the conditioner through my hair, massaging my scalp with the pads of his fingers, and I feel myself relax against his touch.
“No more disappearing acts for you either.”
His hands fall to my shoulders and I tilt my head back, basking in his touch.
“I didn’t disappear. I was gone less than fifteen minutes. You weren’t supposed to wake up.” His lips graze along the tender skin behind my ear, leaving a soft trail of nips and kisses along my shoulder, making my heart race faster than it had when he’d startled me.
He grabs the sides of my shoulders and turns me to face him. His hands run down to my hips, where he softly clutches and walks me back a couple of steps so I’m under the shower head. I close my eyes and reach up to rinse my hair and hear Max let out a small groan.
“I have to get out of here or I’m going to attack you,” he says gruffly.
I open my eyes and feel the water running down my face to find he’s gone to the far end of the shower and grips the shower curtain, prepared to get out. I cross to him and press my body against his and kiss him.
“I need to go get a condom,” he says, pulling back from me.
I grab his wrist and he looks at me and shakes his head. “Max, I’ve been religiously taking the pill since I was fourteen. The statistical probability of—”
He interrupts me by pressing his lips to mine. He pulls back slightly and cups my cheek in one of his large hands that feels hot against my skin while his bright blue eyes lined with dark lashes shine with dampness from the shower and hold mine. “One day, I want you to wear nothing but that expression and use more phrases like statistical probability.” His voice is thick as he leans down and kisses me again. Hands glide down my sides, falling on my lower back as he takes another step closer to me. My mind begins spinning, wondering how in the world this works as the overwhelming sensation of clumsiness fills me.
“Stop thinking.” Max growls.
My eyes flash open, wondering how in the world he knows I’m contemplating this entire scenario. He stops kissing me, pulling his head back so he can stare into my eyes as I watch him read me.
“Would you rather—” I shake my head before he can finish, diligently working to tune out the visions of us falling and breaking our necks in here. I place my hands on his shoulders and press my mouth to his as I lean further into him. He groans a deep, throaty moan that I feel against my lips. His hands grip the back of my thighs, silently urging me to wrap my legs around him. As I do, I wonder if every girl fears that they feel like a whale in this situation. My thoughts cease as I feel the cold tile against my back and Max’s heat against my front. He deepens the kiss, and my excitement and need consumes me as I run my hands over his short hair, trying to pull him closer to me.
“There’s nothing sexier than seeing you turned on,” Max rasps.
I open my eyes to see him looking at my face hungrily.
“God, I want you,” he whispers, shoving himself further against me. His words and arousal are enough to make my entire body clench with need, causing heat and pressure to burn low in my belly.
I lean forward and kiss along his jaw, feeling the prickly roughness from his scruff, and it excites me even further. I arch my body against his, silently begging him.
“Tell me you want me.” Max’s voice is a pleading whisper, and I pull back slightly to look at his face and see doubt in his eyes that I don’t understand nor recognize.
I place both of my hands on his face staring into the blue abyss where I completely lose myself and any inhibitions that I have left. “I want you,” I softly confirm, tightening my legs around his waist. “I want all of you, Max,” I whisper, dropping my hand to land on his chest over his heart, feeling the warm steady beats accelerate.
Max closes his eyes, accepting my words, and when he opens them I find a resounding calmness as he squeezes my thighs and pulls me back slightly before plunging inside of me, taking the air from my lungs as he kisses me with an immeasurable amount of hunger.
We never make it to the park. Max leaves the confines of my bedroom only once, and that’s to answer the door when we order Chinese takeout late in the afternoon.
We spend the rest of the day lazily sprawled out on my bed like it’s a sanctuary, taking time to slowly and thoroughly study one another’s body and the reaction from each part as it’s nibbled, kissed, sucked, and licked in a mind-blowing, tantalizing experience. Periodically we speak, whispering secrets and truths, dreams and fears. It’s the most perfect afternoon of my entire life.
The next day I walk into Philosophy and take my seat, smiling to myself as I unpack my laptop. Fingers drum along the edge of my desk and I look up to see Wes giving me a tight smile. I’m sure the shock on my face is evident as he sits at the desk that has been unoccupied on my left as his smile grows.
“Hey, stranger. Hey I just wanted to—”
Thankfully Professor Parker walks in before he can finish. I feel my eyebrows furrow, trying to understand what he’s doing in here, but Professor Parker doesn’t seem surprised by his presence at all.
When class ends I again wait for Nate to get up before I stand, grab my bag, and head outside while reaching for my phone. I see that I have a text from my dad when I hear someone approaching me.
“Ace, hold up a sec.”
I look over my shoulder to see Wes and don’t slow my pace as I continue toward the track.
“Okay, so this is really awkward,” he says, and I stop, turning to allow him to finish because he’s right, this is really awkward. If he wasn’t one of Max’s friends I would probably keep walking but we need to clear things up. “I had no idea.” He starts again. “I mean, he’s mentioned you several times, but I didn’t realize that Ace was short for Harper.”
“It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “It really isn’t important. I just want us to forget about it and pretend it never happened. I won’t leave him, Wes. We have a really great thing between us.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No,” I answer, glancing ahead at the field, feeling a bit ashamed that I didn’t. “I don’t want to harm your friendship, and I’m going to assume you have no intention of harming my relationship.”
Wes nods in understanding. “I swear. I would never do that to Max. We’ve known each other for like ten years,” he explains, placing one hand on his chest to display his sincerity.
“Then there’s nothing to tell.” I shrug as I turn to head toward the track again.
“Maybe we could go running together. Try to be friends, since I’m going to be around Max and all.”
I stop and glance over my shoulder and see his hopeful expression. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wes. You’re Max’s friend.”
The next few weeks fly by as we attend classes, work on papers, read assigned chapters, and work on various projects. Wes and I have slowly become friends after we were paired together on a project for Philosophy. I start seeing him more and more as he comes around to visit Max. He’s actually a pretty decent guy as much as I initially hate to admit it. He’s easy to get along with and seems to sincerely care for Max. He even has a pretty good sense of humor. Although he has a tendency to quote shows I’ve never watched. I repeatedly explain to him that I grew up in a house with six women and that Seth MacFarlane really didn’t grace us with his presence much. We even begin running together pretty consistently, mostly because of having a fairly similar class schedule. Occasionally Max joins us, but he prefers going after classes, saying that the exercise at the end of the day helps him get out of school mode.
“Ace, we’re seriously running out of time. We need to figure out what we’re going to do for your birthday!” Kendall complains, stirring a bowl of pancake batter that I placed beside the stove, waiting for the griddle to get hot.
“Stop stirring!” I say, waving her away.
“Birthday. What are we going to do for your birthday?” Kendall asks, sounding more annoyed.
“I don’t know. I’m sure there’ll be a hundred parties going on that we can attend.” I pour a measuring cup of batter and watch the first pancake form.
“Wow, it smells really good in here,” Jameson says groggily as he sits at the kitchen table looking half asleep. “We have a pitcher?” he asks, eyeing the glass pitcher holding orange juice.
“Shhh, we’re discussing birthday plans,” Kendall snaps, waving her hand at him dismissively.
“That’s right. Ace, when’s your actual birthday? I know Kendall mentioned celebrating on Halloween.”
“It is Halloween,” she says.
I look at Jameson questionably. Kendall’s never a morning person, but she’s in a particularly grouchy mood this morning, especially for something that seems so trivial.
I dish up some bacon and hand Jameson a bowl filled with scrambled eggs before returning to the stove to flip pancakes.
“It’s Saturday. Saturday mornings I’m supposed to wake up and see this beautiful face,” Max says, holding my face in his hands. I smile and lean forward to kiss lips that are minty from toothpaste. He grins, standing before me wearing only a pair of black mesh shorts. “You’re in trouble.” He growls quietly, lightly biting my ear.
“We’re in trouble,” Jameson says, taking a piece of bacon, “We’re being domesticated. We have a pitcher.” He waves his hand in front of it.
Max ignores him and kisses me again.
“Can you guys wait like fifteen minutes? I’ve been hearing about these pancakes for the last couple of months.” Jameson groans.
I laugh and plate some pancakes. As I pour more batter, Max wraps his arms around me from behind and holds me tightly against his chest as I continue flipping and pouring.
“You’ve permanently ruined me of every other pancake. My mom’s going to be heartbroken,” Jameson says between mouthfuls.
“It’s the chocolate chips,” I confess.
“No, it’s the deliciousness,” Jameson mumbles, making me laugh.
“You know, we could go to the haunted house,” Kendall suggests, scrolling through her phone.
“You want to wear your naughty nurse costume through a haunted house?” I ask her dubiously.
“No, just for something to do. We could go this weekend!”
“You girls are so going to scream!” Jameson chides.
“Do you want to go?” Max asks, looking at me with uncertainty.
“About as much as I wanted to get a tattoo. Yet, I still have a tattoo.” He smiles and softly kisses my temple.
Later that morning I text Abby, extending an invite to her and Jesse. Surprisingly she accepts and we agree to all meet at seven at Antonio’s Pizza Palace. I’ve hardly seen Abby in the past couple of weeks other than the few occasions that she and I have made plans to hang out. I tried to apologize for the excitement that led to Max coming over and ransacking our apartment, and although she seems to have forgiven him, Jesse has no interest in hanging out with us, and it causes a bit of tension between us.
The haunted house is horrifying. I literally feel like it strips four years of my life away as we’re chased by a man with a chainsaw, another with a large axe, and countless other menacing characters through the scarcely lit space as spooky sounds and screams echo around us. By the end, Kendall has latched herself like a barnacle to both Jameson and Max. While I’m tightly wound around one of Jesse’s arms and Abby has a strangle hold on the other.
“Seriously. Never again,” I repeat, reluctantly releasing my hold from Jesse as we make it through the exit. I jump as a hand lands on my back and look back to see Max grinning at me.
“A little jumpy?” he teases, arching that single eyebrow with the look that melts my annoyance with him before it can even fully formulate.
I am jumpy, to the point that it’s a bit embarrassing. I cling to Max’s side for the remainder of the evening that we spend back at the guys’, laughing and telling stories. The previous awkwardness with Jesse seems to have been left behind in the walls of the haunted house. Perhaps it’s from seeing Max in a more relaxed setting and realizing that the version he’d seen wasn’t his normal state. Or maybe it’s the fact that I was plastered to his side like drywall out of desperation for what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to twenty minutes. I don’t spend much time speculating what has changed the overall demeanor, but I’m grateful for it as I sit back and soak it in.
My birthday passes in a buzz of costumes and parties, ending at the hospital where Savannah delivers my fourth niece, Sawyer. Her arrival is the greatest gift, making my birthday nearly as perfect as she is.
“I can’t stop reading this!” Kendall squeals, pinching the bridge of her nose. The book drops to her chest as she falls back into the couch beside me.
I grin at her and nod. “I know, it’s like a train wreck. You can’t turn back and it keeps getting worse!”
She giggles, pumping her feet into the air.
Jameson and Max enter the room and I glance at the clock on the wall, wondering what they’re doing back so soon. They were supposed to go to the gym, and I was hoping to be gone by the time that they returned. It’s only been fifteen minutes.
Max and I are experiencing one of our first awkward stages. We’ve just returned from Arizona where we attended his older brother Billy’s wedding. The long weekend had been amazing, until the night before we left when Max made a comment about sex just being sex that sent me on the strange path I’m still trying to navigate, making me speculate things about our relationship that I haven’t before now.
“What’s with this chick crying every time they have sex? That’s not normal! Is it?” Kendall asks, looking at me confused, “Do you cry during sex? I don’t.”
“Can we not be that open with all of that, babe?” Jameson asks, obviously uncomfortable.
“Wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say, as opposed to doing it behind closed doors? Because it’s going to happen, one way or the other.”
“You don’t just start a conversation like that about sex!” Jameson cries, and if I wasn’t in such a mood I’d probably laugh at the vulnerability he’s showing.
Jameson has become one of my favorite people. I’m beyond happy he and Kendall are dating. The first day that I’d met Jameson my initial thought was that the calm, inquisitive, and caring side he’d shown me at the track was just a façade, but it wasn’t. He is hilarious and goofy with a radiant energy, and calm and caring with a more inquisitive nature than most.
“Like you guys don’t talk about sex, please!” Kendall retorts.
“Yeah, isn’t sex just sex? Something we just do because it’s our primal instinct? We are animals,” I say.
“And with that, I think you’re done reading this book,” Jameson says, grabbing the book off of her chest and winging it across the room. “Something tells me they need to talk.” He grabs Kendall’s hand and pulls her up.
“Here’s some good advice, don’t repeat whatever it was you said before,” Kendall says, widening her eyes and nodding at him before they walk down the hall disappearing into Jameson’s room.
I intentionally avoid Max by turning my back and heading up the stairs to get my things.
“How long are you going to freeze me out?” he demands, following close on my heels.
“I’m not freezing you out.”
“The hell you’re not! You’re pissed at me for what I said, and you’re trying to make me pay for it!”
“Pay for it? You think I’m trying to make you pay for it?”
“People have casual sex all the time! I’ve had plenty of it; sex isn’t always about emotions and deep-seated promises tying two people together. It’s naive to think that!” Max’s eyes are dark with anger as he throws an arm in the air.
Although words rush through my head faster than I can aptly process them, I don’t respond. I don’t think I’ll be able to without losing my composure, and the last thing I want to do right now is cry in front of Max, especially when he’s saying these words.
I grab my backpack that thankfully still holds my books and laptop, and without attempting to gather my other belongings that are strewn around, I turn to leave. I know I won’t be able to keep things inside much longer.
“You always want to run away when shit gets real!” His voice is a notch louder than normal as he stands in the doorway with his hands clutching the molding. “You have to stop running!”
“What am I supposed to do, Max?”
“Fight! Tell me that’s not what it means. Tell me how you feel!” His voice still carries an authoritative edge, but it wavers at the end, as though he’s realizing these words shouldn’t be said as a demand.
“Are you kidding? You want to completely demean me and our relationship, and now you want me to profess my feelings for you?” I feel my eyebrows lower as I look to him for an answer. All he does is stare back at me with hard eyes, his jaw clenching.
“Move!” I demand, gripping my backpack.
“What is running away going to accomplish?”
“What is being here going to accomplish? All I want to do right now is get away from you! I’m disgusted with you!”
“You’re disgusted with me for having casual sex?”
“I’m disgusted with you for pretending to care!”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Max seethes, his fingers tightening around the molding causes the veins in his arms to become more prominent.
“I thought I knew that, but right now…” my head shakes with defeat “…I don’t know what I know, other than I need to get out of here.”
Before he can respond, I push past him and head down the stairs. I get in my car and throw my bag to the passenger seat and leave.
I drive around aimlessly, not sure where to go. I don’t want to chance running into Jesse and Abby at the apartment, and being peeled like an onion by my dad isn’t appealing. I have no intention of discussing the meaning behind sex with him—ever. Before I realize it, I’ve headed directly to the beach that Max and I found several weeks ago.
I kick my Converse off near the fire pit we’d created and continue down the desolate stretch to where the water softly kisses the sand.
Thoughts flood my mind as I begin to walk toward no particular destination, trying to articulate what’s happening. It takes me a while to realize that I’m further than I’ve ever been and should probably stop. Otherwise, I’ll never make it back before the sun sets, and I don’t have a flashlight to try and find the path that is fairly indistinguishable even in the daylight.
I stare out, facing the waves as my mind relaxes and focuses on the tickle from the water as it washes over my feet, pulling the sand out from under me in small increments, making me slowly sink. I take a deep breath, enjoying the sounds of the surf and the seagulls as they cry overhead, and feel the wind blow through my hair.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you again.”
I leap in the air as my silence is penetrated by Max’s deep voice.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you,” Max says, a small grin tugging on his full lips. I pull my attention away from his handsome face. The last thing I need to do right now is be reminded at how beautiful he is.
“Why are you here, Max?” I ask, frowning as I look back to watch the water lap over my feet.
“All weekend I kept hearing how great we are together. How it will be our wedding that everyone’s gathered at next.” His voice grows closer.
My head snaps around to face where he stands a couple of feet behind me. “I’m not giving you any ultimatums or pressuring you into anything!”
“I know.” He turns his attention to the water, and then to me. His eyes don’t seem to be able to focus on me as I watch them waver between iciness and warmth. “I’d almost prefer you did! I never know what in the hell is going through that damn head of yours! I don’t know what you’re thinking or how you feel! You’ve dated so many guys, and yet you were a virgin! And you weren’t reluctant to sleep with me at all, even when you thought …”
Confusion clouds my thoughts as I stare at him. What is he talking about? Is he upset about the first time we had sex again? Then it hits me like a wave soaking me to the core: Max is feeling vulnerable and is afraid of me just as much as I am of him.
“You think I’m using you for casual sex?” The words come out barely above a whisper as my mind spins.
He looks at me expectantly.
“Max, I’ve had a crush on you since the day you moved in next door,” I admit, rolling my eyes, having to discuss his insecurities by forcing me to discuss my feelings. But why am I hiding my feelings? Am I causing his insecurities? But what if Max doesn’t feel as strongly as I do?
I take a deep breath and my lungs quiver, as if they don’t want all of the oxygen because they aren’t sure they want me to continue talking. “Max, I love you.” My brain goes into overdrive, processing if I should have just let my vulnerability shine through.
Max crushes my body against his almost violently, holding my face in his hands as he kisses me. Conflicting emotions rush through me, as the anger, confusion, and doubt begin to wash from me like a receding wave. Love is an emotion that until spoken, I hadn’t realized the immense power that it holds.
“I love you,” Max says against my lips, kissing me softly once more before pulling back further to look at me. I feel my heart race, not realizing how badly I needed to hear his confirmation. He reaches up and softly cradles my face with a large hand. Gently, he slides my hair back as his blue eyes, bright with energy, frantically seek mine, reading my every thought, fear, hope, and things I’m not even aware of. “I love you so much.”
“You’re still reading that book?” I laugh, sitting beside Kendall on the couch and look over her shoulder. “I thought Jameson tossed it?”
“If I sent him a text like this, I think he’d have a heart attack and die,” she says, ignoring my question, and pointing to a section of the book.
I lean forward to read the passage she’s referring to and laugh. “He’d probably die happy though,” I say, smiling at her. Kendall throws her head back and laughs a loud and contagious laugh as Max comes through the doorway with Jameson, returning from a run. He looks at me, holding my gaze as his smile grows as a silent knowledge of our love passes.
