She squeezed and then couldn’t help but lightly smack one with the flat of her palm. He chuckled a “fuck” into her neck and then threw off her tank top and wriggled her out of her shorts.
Just like last night, Max didn’t hold back, giving her whatever she asked. Harder. More.
“What about Cam?” She whispered against his mouth.
He nipped at the corner of her lips. “He always wears his headphones when he’s playing games in his room.”
She pulled back, shot him a coquettish look and then cupped him through the front of his pants. He groaned, grabbed her wrists and stepped back. “You better hold that thought. Hold it real hard, and I’ll be right back.”
He turned and walked out of the kitchen—walked a little awkwardly—and she laughed. “I’m holding it soo hard, Max!”
A grumble was her only answer.
She stripped while he was gone, down to her white lace underwear, which she always loved in contrast to her tattoos.
He was back in under a minute with a condom and stepped out of his sweatpants in the doorway so he stood in front of her naked. Naked and hard and bold and so gorgeous, it took her breath away. And his gaze on her was hot, so hot she was surprised her skin wasn’t on fire.
“Fuck me, doll.”
She reached forward and gripped his hip. “I think it’s the other way around.”
He grinned and pressed his lips to hers and she wondered how she even went two days without a kiss from Max. Without feeling those full lips on hers and his tongue in her mouth and those sexy noises he made in the back of his throat.
She pulled back and flipped open the lid to the shoofly pie.
“What is that?” Max asked as she reached down, slid a drawer open, and retrieved a knife.
“Shoofly pie.” She cut a small slice and pulled it out with her fingers. “Open.”
Max jerked his head back and eyed the treat. “I need some more details other than a weird name.”
She giggled. And she wasn’t a giggler. But everything about Max brought out an inner confidence.
“Trust me. It’s sticky and sweet.”
Max pressed his lips together in a closed-mouth smirk. She giggled harder and pressed the pie slice against his lips. She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Come on,” she whispered, lowering her voice to a purr. “Open.”
Max’s lips softened, and he slowly opened his mouth, baring his teeth for a bite. While he chewed, she took a bite of her own, moaning as the taste hit her tongue.
“Good, right?”
He swallowed and licked his lips. “Delicious.”
She smiled and fed him the rest of the slice. He nipped her fingers before she could take them away and she giggled (again!). He laughed, both of them spewing shoofly pie at each other.
“Ew, gross!” she said, swatting at him. He laughed harder and grabbed her around the waist. Then their lips met and it was a delicious mix of Max and sugar and carbs and she wanted to overload on all of it.
Amid sweet kisses, Max rolled on the condom and entered her on a shudder. In this position, clinging to his shoulders as he pistoned his hips, she could feel him more, every ridge, every pulse of his delicious length as he moved inside her. His strangled breath on her shoulder and hisses through gritted teeth told her it felt just as good for him.
And after she threw back her head on a climaxing moan, and he buried his face in her chest with a last grunt, neither moved. She laid her cheek on the top of his head while his breath misted between her breasts.
He shifted his hips back, slipping out of her body. She closed her eyes, stroking his hair. She was wrong Friday morning. Her souvenir from this date wasn’t just the pain in her leg and the memories. It was him, those eyes and that smile and that surrender he gave her so easily, squeezing her heart.
M
AX HAD NEVER
been a “meet the parents” type of boyfriend. Hell, he rarely even held the boyfriend title, to be honest.
It’s not like he didn’t know how to make a good impression if he put the effort into it. But he’d never been this nervous. He’d never felt this pressure for someone to like him so much.
He rubbed his palms on his jeans and took a deep breath, staring out of the windshield of his truck at the Hot Cakes Diner.
Lea was inside. Right now.
With her father.
He dropped his forehead onto his steering wheel. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart and supply oxygen to his brain to stave off the lightheaded feeling.
This was ridiculous. He was Max Payton. The Confident One. Making parents love him since 2006.
He rolled his eyes at himself and stepped out of his truck, shutting the door behind him. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and walked into the diner.
It was a Friday afternoon, so the diner was crowded. He looked around and spotted Lea in a corner, facing him, sitting across from a man with his back to Max.
After a nervous bite to the inside of his cheek, he squared his shoulders and strode across the diner, dodging a waitress with a loaded tray.
Lea’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Max!”
And the smile on her face, the flush of her cheeks, made him remember why he agreed to do this in the first place. Because whether she knew it or not, he’d do whatever he could for that look on her face.
He gestured for her to stay seated and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Hey, doll.” Then he sat in the booth beside her and looked across the table at the man who could ruin this all for him.
“Dad, this is Max. Max, this is my dad.”
“Carl,” her dad corrected, reaching across the table so Max could shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Max said. Lea inherited her big, dark eyes from her dad, although he had a lot more wrinkles in the corners. Laugh lines, they looked like, because of the way they crinkled as he smiled at Max. A large knapsack was perched on the bench beside Carl, a ball of yarn peeking out with hooked needle stuck in the strands.
When Max raised his gaze back to Carl, he expected wariness from the older man. A “don’t hurt my little girl” and “I own a gun” speech. Instead, Carl took a sip of his coffee and leaned in toward Max. “La-la told me about the date. I want to thank you, because that was really thoughtful. Can’t imagine how much planning it took.”
A curl of warmth tickled Max’s chest and spread out to his limbs, something that felt a lot like pride. He clasped his hands together on his lap so he wouldn’t fidget. He wasn’t as good at reading people as Cam, but even he could see Carl’s posture as inviting, nonthreatening. What would it have been like to grow up with a parent like that?
He wished his father could see him now. He’d done something right. Something someone else valued.
Max looked down at Lea and gripped her hand, flashing her a wide smile. She beamed back. “It was a perfect date.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and she leaned in to Max. “Even though I panicked the next morning.” Her cheeks colored in a blush, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes darting to her father. Max groaned inwardly and closed his eyes.
Carl cleared his throat, his voice coming haltingly. “Um . . . well, I mean, just the date. I know nothing about the . . . um . . . next morning . . .”
Lea’s cheeks colored more. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she said through closed teeth.
Max looked at Carl to see the man tugging at the collar of his shirt. “The public date. That’s all I’m referring to.”
“Dad—” Lea said.
More throat clearing. “I mean, I support the women’s movement and their sexual revolution.”
“Oh my God,” Max said, unable to look anyone in the eye at this table because for fuck’s sake, why was this the first conversation he was having with his girlfriend’s father? And what kind of family was this? All open and sharing and caring. Max searched the diner for their waitress, because he needed some ice-cold water to dump over his head.
“Dad,” Lea said more urgently.
“I even championed the local school board for a better sex ed class that didn’t focus on only abstinence—”
“Oh my God,” Max said again under his breath.
But Carl kept talking, looking like his mouth was moving before he could clamp his lips shut. “And as the father of a daughter, I’m an avid supporter of feminism, which means accepting women’s sexuality . . .”
“Dad, oh my God, please stop,” Lea said on a groan, finally silencing her father and descending the entire table into awkward silence.
Put me out of my misery,
Max thought.
Carl looked just as uncomfortable as Max with the turn of the conversation. “Right.” He fidgeted, his gaze bouncing around, avoiding Max and Lea. “Um . . . want to see what crocheting project I’m working on?”
“Yes, please,” Max answered, way too cheerily and excited about a blanket or scarf or whatever the hell was in Carl’s knapsack. But he was saved from having to make another awkward conversation about knitting when the waitress finally arrived at their table.
Max wanted to order about three shots of vodka but settled for a coffee.
While they waited for their food, Lea cut through the awkwardness with ease, telling her father about how she introduced Max to the wonders of shoofly pie. He managed to keep himself from blushing, glad that Lea conveniently left out how they ate half of the pie in bed together, naked, with Wayne scarfing up the crumbs left on the navy comforter.
After a brief explanation about the origins of Lea’s nickname, La-la, Carl turned to Max. “And what do you want to do after graduation?”
It was a question everyone asked but it was so loaded for Max. Because what he planned to do and what he wanted to do were miles apart. Ever since he’d started helping Lea with the self-defense classes, more and more he began to feel like his true calling was teaching and coaching. He’d already looked into changing his major, researching at night on his computer, casting furtive glances at the door like he was watching porn and his father was going to come in at any minute. Hell, if he got caught watching porn, his father would probably say, “That’s my boy.” But researching changing his major? That was grounds for disownment.
Max twisted an empty sugar packet in his hands. “My major is business and after graduation I’m going to help my father with his mechanics business. My brothers work there, too.”
It was amazing he got the words out. Because his voice sounded flat and vaguely pissed off. He stole a glance at Lea, who studied him with furrowed brows.
“And is that what you want to do?” Carl asked softly.
He didn’t want to have this conversation either. He shrugged. “It’s okay. Doesn’t really matter, since that’s what I’m doing.”
The man hummed under his breath, which set Max’s teeth on edge. But Lea’s hand slipped onto his thigh and he relaxed, turning to her with a smile. She returned it, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“La-la said you’ve been a big help with the self-defense classes,” Carl said.
Max’s smile felt genuine now. “Your daughter’s pretty tough.”
Carl laughed and nodded. “Yes, yes she is.”
M
AX TOSSED HIS
wallet on his desk and sat on the edge of his bed while Lea sat cross-legged at the head of it, petting Wayne.
“I like your dad,” Max said, taking off his boots.
“Me too,” Lea said, flashing him a smile.
Max took off his shirt and crawled toward Lea, laying his head on a pillow near her hip. “Think he likes me?”
Wayne’s purr vibrated the bed as Lea scratched under his chin. “Yeah, I think he did.”
“You
think
?”
Lea rolled her eyes and stretched out beside Max, propping her head in her hand. “I can’t read his mind, but yes, I think he did.”
Max chewed his lip. Lea reached over and pulled the skin free of his teeth. “Stop that,” she said softly.
He pretended to bite her finger and she giggled.
“Thanks for meeting him. Were you nervous?”
Max pshawed. “Nervous? Me? No way.”
She shoved his shoulder gently. “You were too nervous. Shut up.”
“I was cool as a cucumber.”
Lea laughed and flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “We could have brought up our grocery-story cucumber discussion too, just for a total trifecta of sex-pie-vegetable awkward conversations.”
“I’m pretty sure listening to your father talk about the ‘women’s sexual revolution’ shriveled my balls.”
Lea cackled and rolled onto her side. “Aw, poor Max.”
“I think they need to be held and stroked and maybe fondled a little.”
“Do they?”
Max nodded gravely. “Soon, too. Or I think they’ll stay shriveled.”
Lea rolled her eyes and ran her fingers over his bare chest. “So . . . when do I get to meet the rest of the Paytons?”
He didn’t think it was possible for his balls to shrivel more. He hadn’t thought this through. Meeting Lea’s dad seemed like a natural step, but his dad? Fuck, she didn’t know what she was asking. “Uh . . .”
Her touch vanished and her lips turned down. “I guess . . . I just thought . . .”
She was inching away, not just physically, but her eyes were darkening. Shit.
He reached out and laced his fingers with hers. “Of course I want you to meet my brothers and . . . my dad.” If she noticed the crack in his voice on
dad
, she didn’t show it. How to stall . . . “But they’re really busy. They work a lot.”
Her eyes lightened a fraction. “Oh, okay. Well, I’d like to meet them when they have time.”
He could have told her right there. Pieced together the clues he’d sprinkled in during conversations with her so she saw the whole picture. But he didn’t. Because maybe he could just keep putting it off until he could figure out a way to make sure his dad wasn’t an asshole to her or said something obnoxious.
“I’ll talk to them, okay? Just give me some time.”
A smile now, a bigger one. “Okay, Max.” And then those dark eyes drew closer and those full lips touched his and then he forgot all about families and dads and unwanted futures. Because it was the present and he had Lea under him and in that moment, it was all that mattered.
M
AX STARED AT
the front window of his dad’s shop, watching the cars drive by on the busy road outside.
He glanced at the clock for the ten millionth time that day and sighed. He still had another hour and a half to go before he could leave. And go to a party with his friends and Lea. A
beach-themed
party. Which meant Lea is some sort of revealing clothes. And that made his face heat.
Cal walked into the shop, a plastic bag dangling from two fingers. “Dinner!” he called into the garage, then slapped a sub down on the front counter for Max. “Extra onions.”
Max grabbed the sub and broke the tape so he could peel back the paper wrapping his cheesesteak.
He took a bite and raised his eyes to see Cal squinting at him. “What?”
Cal swallowed his Italian sub. Extra oregano. The thing reeked. “You ask that girl out yet?”
The cheesesteak settled into his gut like lead. “Why?”
Cal shrugged. “Just curious.”
Max picked at his sub, pulling out a long string of onion, then dropping it into his mouth. “I did.”
Cal brightened. “Yeah?”
“Are you trying to live vicariously through my social life?”
Cal shoved his shoulder with a laugh. “Fuck you.”
“We had some dates.” Max took a bite of sub and avoided Cal’s eyes. Keep it simple. The less information, the better.
“You going to keep seeing her?”
Max opened his mouth but a booming voice cut him off. “See who?”
Max winced, and Cal rolled his eyes.
Jack’s grease-stained hand grabbed his sub. He ripped the paper off one end and took a bite out of it while standing up, icy eyes on Max. “You got a girl, again?”
Max wanted to chuckle. Did he have a girl? No one really had Lea. If anything, Lea had a boy. Him.
“She anything like that exotic one you had last year?”
Exotic? Max guessed it was an upgrade from “foreigner,” a reference to Kat’s Brazilian heritage that his father had used to describe her after Max showed him a picture on his cell phone.
He couldn’t imagine what his Dad would say about Lea’s limp. He’d be a dick about it, for sure.
It felt weird to think about Lea in his dad’s shop. This place was grease and noise and metal.
Lea was clean and soft and gentle.
How the hell was he ever going to introduce her to his family? His brothers . . . okay, that could work. But his dad? Jack Payton already owned his future. Max wanted one thing that was his— all this—and that was Lea. He wanted to keep her separate from all of this until he could figure out how his two worlds would mesh.
And so he blew the question off to get his dad off his back and prevent further questions. “Just some girl I hung out with. No big deal. I’m gonna break it off before she gets too attached.”
Lies.
Jack’s eyes narrowed, like he was feeling his son out for the truth. Max resisted squirming.
Brent walked in, breaking up the tension of the moment, and the attention shifted away from Max to talking shop.
Max stayed silent, picking at his sandwich, glad he’d shut down the conversation. But an odd sensation rippled over his skin and a weight settled in his gut that felt a lot like guilt. Had he done the right thing? Or should he have told his dad the truth?
Brent and his dad returned to the garage to start shutting down for the night. Cal threw his sub wrapper in the trash and then turned to Max. “You fed Dad some bullshit about that date being no big deal, didn’t you?”
Max looked him in the eye, took a bite of his sub. And gave his brother nothing.
But Cal’s narrowed eyes let Max know he wasn’t fooling him.