Marrying Max Page 2

  Max gladly takes the baby into his arms. He’s a total natural at it. And the sight of Max cradling a little sweet babe…

  …yep, my ovaries just exploded.

  Just then, my other best friend, Marisa, joins our little group and introduces herself to Max.

  “So how did you two meet?” asks Marisa, splitting a glance between us.

  “We actually just met,” I say, and tell the story to my friends.

  When I finish, Aurora laughs and says, “Thank God for blowouts, huh?”

  Then Elle is calling for everyone’s attention, and we all turn to see her carrying in a huge birthday cake for Grayson, who’s sitting in his high chair at a table in the front of the room. We all start singing, and it’s such a joyful moment.

  It’s the kind of moment I hope to have too someday.

  And when I glance up at Max and watch his lips move as he sings happy birthday to a little boy he doesn’t even know, I can tell he’s touched by this moment, too.

  Afterward, the cake is sliced up and handed piece-by-piece around the room. I’m not surprised when I end up with a corner piece that’s absolutely slathered in frosting. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love frosting. But the amount of frosting on this slice of cake is obscene.

  And I’ve really, really been trying to stick to my latest diet.

  I don’t mean to let out a groan. But I do. And I guess it’s loud enough for Max to take notice, because he looks over at me and frowns.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Oh…yeah. I’m fine.” I say. “You wouldn’t want to trade pieces with me, though, would you?”

  Max laughs. “What, not a frosting fan?”

  “That’s the problem,” I say. “I’m too much of one. I mean, look at me.”

  “Look at you?” says Max. His eyes turn serious. “Lindsay, you’re gorgeous. You should never think anything less.”

  No one has ever said anything like that to me. I mean, my friends have, but no guy ever has. I’m both startled and touched by his words.

  This man. This man.

  Chapter Four

  Max

  It’s late in the afternoon when we leave the birthday party. For about an hour, we just walk around the neighborhood, talking more, getting to know each other. Every new little thing I learn about Lindsay makes me fall for her more and more.

  Am I in love with her already?

  Nah. Not yet.

  But I can feel it out there in our future.

  By the time we circle back to our cars, I know the perfect place to take her to dinner. When I make the suggestion, Lindsay says it sounds great. We head over to the restaurant, get seated right away, and pick up our conversation where we left off.

  Looking at us, you’d never guess we met only hours before.

  The food that night is delicious. But it’s Lindsay’s company I enjoy more than anything. We talk about our families, our childhoods, our past relationships. As we talk, it feels like we’re never going to run out of things to say to each other.

  Fuck, I don’t want this night to end.

  I don’t want to ruin this by moving too fast, though, either. And so when I walk her out to her car, I just give her a single kiss goodnight. Lindsay’s lips taste like honey. They’re so damn soft. And by the look in Lindsay’s eyes after I kiss her, I can tell she wants more.

  But I don’t give her more. Not yet. I know I’ve been fantasizing about her all day, but tonight, the night of our first date, this is all we’re going to do.

  After all, if she’s really the one, we’ll have a whole lifetime together to do all kinds of dirty things.

  I take Lindsay out twice more that week. On our second date, we see an awful movie that we laugh about together afterwards over late-night coffee and pie; the kiss we share that night makes me hard as a rock, but I keep my wits about me. A few days later, for our third date, Lindsay comes over to my place and I cook her dinner.

  That night, when we’re cuddled up on the couch together and she angles her head up to me for a kiss, I can’t fucking hold back any longer.

  As I seal my mouth to hers, I run my hand over her thigh, silently marveling at how sexy her curves are. I smooth my palm down her thigh, then back up it, curving around to the inside of her leg as I move back up. I slow as I near her sex, but I keep drawing my hand closer and closer, until finally my fingers are lightly pressing against the layers of fabric between her legs.

  Lindsay moans softly into my mouth and our tongues slide against each other.

  I apply a little more pressure, eliciting a slightly higher moan from my sweet girl. As I begin to move my fingertips in a circle, she spreads her thighs wider and pushes against my touch.

  I draw back from our kiss to look Lindsay in the eye. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyelids softly drooping.

  “Touch me, Max,” she whimpers. “Please.”

  I work down the buttons on her pants and slip my hand inside. My fingers graze over the silky patch of hair between her legs and then find the slickness waiting for me further down. Lindsay groans as my fingertips come in contact with her clit.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby,” I murmur, sliding my fingers down even further. I dip a finger into her pussy, eliciting a gasp from her pretty mouth.

  “Oh my God,” Lindsay moans.

  “Want me to put another one in?”

  She nods. I slide a second finger in and she moans again, louder this time. As I begin to slide my fingers in and out of her, she grinds her hips against my hand, her breathing quickly picking up in speed. Already, she looks like she’s nearing the edge of ecstasy.

  I lower my mouth to hers again as I keep pumping in and out of her. I give her a kiss, then pull back again and drink in her beauty.

  “That’s it, sugar. Come for me. Let it wash over you.”

  “I’m—I’m—” It’s all she can make out.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, thrusting deep into her wetness. “You have no idea how badly I wish this was my cock.”

  She cries out and clamps her thighs around my wrist. As she pulses around my fingers, I claim her mouth with mine. I guide her down the other side with my kisses, eventually drawing my hand out and then using both of my hands to cup her face.

  “That was…” Our eyes meet and Lindsay laughs, her cheeks still bright and rosy. “Amazing.”

  “You are amazing,” I tell her.

  She looks at me hungrily and reaches down to tug on my belt. “My turn.”

  “To be honest, Lindsay, I’m not really into getting fingered.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Yeah…that’s not…”

  “I know,” I say, and plant a grinning kiss on her neck.

  She resumes undoing my belt. I groan as she pulls out my cock. I’m so fucking turned on that I feel like I might come the second she dips her head down and takes me into her mouth. Through sheer willpower, I stay in control.

  At least, I do until she starts moaning.

  The vibration from her mouth—and the sound of it, fuck—it’s too much. I grunt out that I’m close, and she smiles around my cock, and I erupt into her mouth.

  It feels incredible. More than incredible. And yet it pales in comparison to how it feels ten minutes later, when we’re buck naked on my bed and I’m caging her in with my body, bottoming out inside of her as she cries out my name.

  That—being inside of Lindsay, being one with her—that, my friend, is heaven.

  Two weeks later, Lindsay and I are walking back to her place after hanging out with some friends at a neighborhood bar. I ask her if she’s free the following Saturday, and she gives me a playful look and tells me her schedule’s always open for me.

  “There’s this fundraising gala I have to go to,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “You interested in coming along?”

  “Sounds fancy,” she says.

  “Sure,” I say. “But it’s mostly just a work thing.”

  “Well, work gala or not, the answer’s yes. That sounds fun.”
<
br />   That evening, after I get home, I pull open my laptop and scour the internet until I find what I’m looking for. The following evening, my phone chimes with a text from Lindsay: Um, assuming this dress is for the gala?? Max, I can’t accept this. It’s too nice.

  Nothing is too nice for you, I text back. There’s no pressure to wear it, though. It’s just an option.

  Okay. Thank you.

  There are a few other little words I want to tell her right now, too.

  But they’ll be better said in person.

  Chapter Five

  Lindsay

  Hands down, this dress is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever worn. Actually, the way I feel in it is the way I imagined I would feel in a wedding dress—only more glamorous.

  The absolute best part is that it fits me like a dream. Most of the time, when I try on clothes, they’re too big in certain places and too tight in others. But this dress. Oh my God, this dress. It’s like it was made by some little dressmaking fairies who snuck into my bedroom at night and took all my exact measurements.

  I’m late getting ready the night of the gala, of course. No surprise there. But Max is a sweetheart and tells me it’s no big deal as he waits for me to finish doing my makeup. When I finally step out of my bedroom, he looks up from his phone and his eyes go wide.

  “Jesus, you look gorgeous,” he says. “I mean, you always do, Lindsay. But…right now…yeah.”

  I smile and thank him, then do my best to glide across the room—in a dress like this, you don’t walk, you glide—so I can give him a kiss. A little spark passes between us, and for a second, it’s obvious we’re both thinking about one thing and one thing only. But we’re already late as it is.

  No doubt about it, the next few hours are going to be an exercise in suppressing my dirty thoughts about Max.

  When we reach the venue, a valet takes Max’s keys and drives his car away. Max extends an elbow for me to hook my arm through and I do so as we walk into the venue together.

  The moment we walk in, I feel extra grateful that Max got me this gown to wear. In anything else, I would have felt severely underdressed. Everyone here is dressed to the nines—and the venue itself is luxuriously decked out, too. There’s lavish mood lighting, elaborately set tables, and glimmering chandeliers.

  Max leans in close to my ear. “Want to mingle or just hang out by ourselves? It’s up to you, sugar.”

  I glance around. I’m sure Max’s colleagues are nice people, but I can’t really imagine trying to make small talk with them. As much as Max has told me about his firm, it’s a whole other world than what I’m used to.

  “Let’s just hang out, if that’s okay,” I say.

  Max nods. “Come on. Let’s get something to drink.”

  We get our drinks, then find a spot to stand near this big crazy ice sculpture. Max asks me how the rest of my week was—we haven’t seen each other for a couple days—and I tell him about this poor dog who was abandoned by his owner at the clinic.

  “It’s so sad,” I say. “You’d be shocked at how many people abandon their pets because they can’t afford to pay the vet bill—or they simply don’t want to.”

  “That’s awful,” Max says.

  “Yeah. I know. And our clinic can only do so much about it.” I sigh. “Anyway. Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag down the mood.”

  “No, it was on your mind,” says Max. “It’s important to talk about it.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by one of Max’s colleagues coming up and slapping Max’s shoulder.

  “Hey, thanks for getting those files over to me so quickly, man,” he says to Max, then looks at me. “Dude always has his shit together, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” I say, giving Max’s colleague a polite smile.

  “No problem, Eli,” says Max. “Hey, this is Lin—”

  “God, that was fucking crazy about Charlie, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?” asks Max, sounding annoyed that he was just cut off.

  “When he stormed up to the mic and went on that rant about the company? Didn’t you guys hear him? Happened about half an hour ago.”

  “We hadn’t gotten here yet,” says Max.

  Eli shakes his head. “Damn. You missed out.” Then his eyes flit over to someone across the room and he leaves as quickly as he appeared.

  “Sorry we missed the drama,” I say to Max, rubbing my thumb over my glass. I feel bad. It was my fault we arrived late.

  “Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Anyway, I’m sure I’ll hear all about it at work next week. Sorry about that guy, by the way.”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  “Hey, I think dinner is about to be served. Let’s grab some good seats.”

  We find a table and waiters appear to pour us wine and begin to serve dinner. I’m relieved when a friendly woman sits on the other side of me. As we start eating our salads, she makes small talk, asking me how long I’ve been seeing Max and then asking what I do.

  “Right now I work at an animal clinic,” I tell her.

  “You’re a veterinarian? How wonderful.”

  “Oh, um…” I wipe my napkin at the corner of my mouth. “I just do administration there, actually.”

  “And how long have you worked there?”

  “A little over six months.”

  She smiles and nods. Her expression doesn’t seem like it’s one of judgment, but I still feel the urge to change the subject. I don’t exactly feel like talking about all the different jobs I’ve had, none of which are very impressive.

  “How long have you worked at the firm?” I ask, reaching for my wine glass. But I make the mistake of not completely looking at the glass as I reach for it, and my hand knocks it over.

  I scramble to set the wine glass upright, but the damage has been done. Red wine is already soaking into the pristine white tablecloth, and has also splashed over our salads.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mutter, soaking up as much of the wine as I can with my napkin. Beside me, Max has stood up and is doing the same with his. I look over at the woman, utterly mortified. “Oh, God. Did any get on your dress?”

  “Not a drop,” says the woman, signaling for a waiter.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again.

  “It was an accident,” she says, shaking her head.

  I know she’s right. Still, I feel awful. And it’s yet another thing that makes me feel like I don’t belong here with Max tonight.

  Or…maybe at all.

  Sure, this is just one night. But if I keep dating Max, there’s going to be more events like this. And I’m always going to make us late. I’m always going to make a fool of myself in public with him.

  I’ve cleaned up the wine as much as I can. I lean over to Max and tell him I need to use the restroom. He nods and points across the room toward a back hallway. Before I can get up out of my seat, though, he squeezes my thigh and says, “You okay?”

  “Yep,” I say, pretending everything’s fine.

  Then I hurry off and find the restroom. Once I’ve locked myself in the privacy of one of the stalls, I drop my face into my hands, letting tears wet my palms. I hate that I’m crying. I want to be stronger than this.

  But I’m hurting too much right now to not let it out.

  Chapter Six

  Max

  When Lindsay doesn’t come back after several minutes, I excuse myself from the table and head into the back hall to find her. She’s coming out of the women’s restroom, and her face immediately tells me something’s the matter—and that it’s about more than just the wine.

  “What’s wrong, Lindsay?” I ask, pulling her gently down the hall so we can have some privacy.

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

  “I’m sure it’s not. Talk to me. Please.”

  Lindsay lets out a long sigh. “Look, Max…I’ve had such a wonderful time with you these past couple of weeks. But I’m too much of a mess for you. My whole life is in shambles. I’m
late to everything. I’ve had like ten different jobs in the last five years. I can’t stick to a diet. I can’t drive to a friend’s house without my tire blowing out on me. You even had to buy me a dress for this event. I could go on and on. But you…you have your life together. And you deserve to be with somebody who isn’t such a mess.”

  Her words stun me. I can’t believe she would think all of that. I brush a strand of hair out of her face and cup her chin with my palm. “Lindsay…first of all, your life isn’t a mess. Please don’t ever think that. Second of all, I like you just the way you are. And as for me buying the dress for you, that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was a gift. That’s all. You could have worn sweatpants tonight and look just as stunning.”

  She shakes her head. She pulls my palm from her face. “I dunno, maybe once I have my act together, this could work between us, but—”

  “Lindsay. You aren’t listening to me. I don’t want you to change. You’re perfect the way you are, and I’m not just saying that. If you want to change things about your life because you actually want to change them, then by all means, go ahead. But I’m crazy about you as you are now.”

  I think I’ve finally gotten through to her. She’s looking at me differently now. Her eyes have softened, and her mouth is starting to turn up.

  “Really?” she says.

  “Really,” I say. “I’ve never been more serious about anything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Lindsay, I care so much for you. I’d do anything for you. I’d sacrifice it all. I’d quit my job for you, I’d move anywhere for you, I’d—”

  “Okay,” she says, laughing. “Stop. Stop. I get it. And please don’t quit your job, or do anything crazy like that. How would that even prove anything?”

  “I’m just trying to tell you how serious I am, Lindsay,” I say.

  “Well, I believe you now.”

  “Good,” I say. I press my lips to hers. I intend for it to be a simple kiss. But as soon as our lips meet, the true depth of my feelings for her flares in my chest, and I know I need to tell her what’s been on my mind.