“Relax, princess. Now ease yourself down.”
When she didn’t respond immediately, he gripped her hips harder. She moaned and did as he asked. Next thing she knew, she was lost in sensation, his mouth on her sex.
She grabbed on to the headboard, unable not to rock her hips back and forth as he licked and sucked her into oblivion. His talented tongue lapped at her lips, up one side and down the other, before darting inside her. She moaned and pushed against him, barely aware when she took one hand and rubbed it over her sensitive clit. Pleasure mounted quickly, faster than ever before.
Between the friction of his mouth and the pressure of her finger, she detonated quickly, her entire body shaking and succumbing to pleasure and stars exploding behind her eyes as she rode out wave after wave of the most intense climax. She collapsed beside him, barely aware when he pulled her into his arms and into the protective curve of his body.
A little while later, they showered, taking the time for a luxurious round of making love under the hot, steamy water. And she couldn’t call it anything less than that. Nothing she did with Max fell under one category only. He wasn’t just her lover. He wasn’t just her best friend. He wasn’t just anything.
He was everything.
She loved him despite having done everything in her power to avoid feeling this way. And now? She’d have to deal with the fallout.
* * *
Max hadn’t thought he’d visit the house of his adolescence ever again. Yet somehow, because Lucy had convinced him, he was here to talk to his parents. He’d known today would be tough for him. But Lucy was right about regrets, and he didn’t want to be coming back here with things he should have done haunting him. As they approached the old neighborhood where she’d grown up with her parents, her silence told him that he wasn’t the only one facing the past today.
Gabe had sold the house next door to his after Lucy graduated from college, and as far as he knew, she hadn’t returned since. As he parked out front, he glanced to the side, noting her complexion had turned pale. Apparently she wasn’t any more ready to face the past than he was.
He turned off the engine, and she hurried out of the car, rushing over to grab his hand, taking over… taking care of him. If it meant she was putting her own painful thoughts out of her mind, he’d let her take the lead.
Max rang the doorbell and met Lucy’s gaze for a brief second before the door opened and his mother stood before him. She’d aged. There were fine lines in her face that hadn’t existed the last time he’d seen her, and there was a light sprinkling of grey in her brown hair. His mother had never been one to overly worry about personal appearance, and that hadn’t changed. No hair dye or heavy makeup for her.
“Max,” she whispered, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was standing there.
“Mom.”
She blinked back tears, and he didn’t know what to make of the change. In this older woman, he saw signs of the mom he’d grown up with in that small apartment, before she’d let her job overtake her family.
“You remember Lucy,” he said, his hand on the small of her back.
“Hi, Mrs. Savage.”
“Loretta,” she corrected her.
“Loretta. It’s nice to see you again,” Lucy said.
“Come in, come in. It’s cold outside.” She ushered them into the house, which was still decorated the same way Max remembered. Not overly ornate but too fancy for his taste, especially as a teenage boy prone to running, not walking, and for a houseful of foster kids.
A little while later, they sat with both Max’s parents on the porch they’d enclosed to create a sunroom. His father looked pale, and though the room was heated, he had a blanket over his legs.
“Dad, are you okay?” Max asked him, realizing his father had aged as well. His complexion was sallow, his shoulders hunched, and he lacked the strong-as-a-bull appearance Max had always associated with his dad.
“Just some reaction to chemo.”
Lucy sucked in a startled breath, and Max felt as if he’d been punched hard. He wanted to double over, but he remained upright. “What kind?”
“Lymphoma, but it’s under control.”
His father had always been a straight shooter, and Max believed him. Max nodded slowly. “That’s good then.”
Max felt sad for the years that had passed, worried about the man who’d raised him, and though there was some guilt for not returning their calls, a part of him was still that hurt boy they’d all but turned their backs on.
“Is that why you’ve been calling?” he asked, looking at his mother, who sat by Victor’s side.
“No, actually we’ve been dealing with the cancer on and off for a while now,” Loretta said. “It makes you look back on your life. Reflect.”
Beside him on the sofa, Lucy slid a hand into his as he listened, stunned by the fact that there was more to this visit than letting him know his father was sick.