The Worst Best Man Page 19

  Just enjoy the moment and worry about everything else later.

  I shake my head. “I’ve got no problem with the bed.” To prove it, I glide past him, pull back the coverlet, and crawl onto the mattress. Lying on my side with an elbow on the bed and my chin in my hand, I ask, “Now, where were we?”

  He slides in as well and lies on his side. “You were going to instruct me on the finer points of bringing you pleasure.”

  His statement doesn’t sit well with me. Everything’s not about me, and it’s selfish to focus on my needs only, especially considering how attuned he’s been to mine. “Let’s flip the script and talk about what you like.”

  He pauses, his expression thoughtful, and then he scrunches his face. “You sure you won’t judge me too harshly?”

  “If it warrants my judgment, then it can never be too harsh.”

  Groaning, he rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll risk it. Okay, let’s just say I’m not a fan of possum sex.”

  I gawk at him. “Possum sex? What the hell is that? Don’t tell me you’re a shape-shifter.”

  He laughs. “No, possum sex is when a woman just lies in the bed, still as a statue, or as I like to think of it, when she plays dead like a possum. It’s disturbing as fuck. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total asshole. If someone’s physically unable to ride me like a rodeo star, I’d understand. But barring that, I enjoy a little participation on the part of the person I’m having sex with.”

  My shoulders shake as I imagine what possum sex looks like. When I recover, I offer an alternative explanation. “Are you sure it wasn’t a kink and you didn’t know it?”

  “If it was, I didn’t sign up for it,” he says.

  “Or maybe you just weren’t all that exciting. That’s a possibility, too.”

  “You’re heartless, and I’m not going to treat you with kid gloves just because your pussy’s amazing.” He casually sits up, and before I can guess his intentions, he grabs a pillow and socks me in the face with it.

  I yelp in surprise as I scramble to my knees, and then I’m brandishing my own pillow, ready to strike, until someone knocks on the door—yet again.

  “Everything okay in there?” the voice asks.

  “I think it’s James,” Max whispers. Then he calls out, “We’re fine.”

  “Just having a pillow fight,” I explain in an overly loud voice.

  “Okay, well, I think a few people are getting ready to retire for the night,” James says.

  “We’ll be quieter,” I say. “We promise.”

  Max slips from the bed and reaches for his jeans, fishing inside a back pocket. He returns with a few condom packets.

  I gaze at him knowingly, my lips pursed in an “of course you did, you cocky son of a bitch” expression. “Just happened to have those handy, huh?”

  He purses his lips, pretending to be insulted by my question. “Actually, I didn’t. Found them in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Went rummaging on the off chance this would happen.”

  “Did you check the expiration date?”

  “Yep.”

  “Give me one, please.”

  He moves on his knees to the center of the bed and offers one to me, his hand shaking slightly as he waits for me to take it. I don’t want him to be nervous about this, but I wonder if all my sex talk—designed to help me build my own bravado—has put unnecessary pressure on him. If so, I want to correct that. I knee-walk to him and set the condom on the bed. Placing one hand on his shoulder, I lean in to kiss his chest, then his Adam’s apple, then his jaw. When I straighten, I give him a penetrating stare. “It’s been incredible so far, and I truly believe there’s no way we’re going to mess this up.” I press a soft kiss to his lips and reach between us, stroking his cock slowly. “I just want us to make each other feel good.”

  He shudders against me, his lids falling to half-mast. “Ahh, Lina. I think we can check that off the to-do list already.”

  “Not yet,” I say, nudging his shoulder and motioning for him to lie down.

  Max sits on his heels, then slides his legs in front of him and falls onto his back. I look over his smooth skin, his broad shoulders, his stiff erection—all of that’s waiting for me, and it’s alarming how much I’m looking forward to this.

  “Lina, I need you,” he grounds out, his voice crackling like pebbles are churning in his throat.

  The longing in his voice feeds my own hunger, powering it to another level and threatening to wipe out the grid. My nipples are puckered nearly to the point of pain, and I can feel the wetness at the apex of my thighs. I straddle him quickly, reaching for the protection with fumbling fingers and sighing in frustration when the packet doesn’t open easily. Max kneads my breasts, tweaking the nipples with light, torturous flicks, while I wrestle with the condom packet that refuses to give. I finally manage to pry the resilient fucker open and slip a finger inside.

  My eyes go wide and my stomach drops. “It’s empty.”

  Max lifts his head off the bed. “What the hell? Let me get another one.”

  I study the packet and snort. “Don’t bother. These are gag condoms, Max. The name’s Nojans. The label says, For the person who won’t be getting any tonight.”

  Max’s face flushes to a lovely shade of Mean Girls pink before he throws the pillow over his head, then he thinks better of it and peeks out. “Admit it, this is the worst sex you’ve ever had.”

  I shove the pillow away. “Not the worst, but certainly the most memorable.” I climb off him and shift to the side, taking his thick shaft in my hand. Before I take him in my mouth, I say, “But don’t worry. The best is yet to come.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lina

  Max’s side of the bed is empty when I wake up. I stare at the ceiling and wait for the oh-shit-what-the-fuck-did-I-do’s to rattle inside my brain, but they’re nowhere to be found. It’s easy to figure out why. Andrew is my past. Max is my present. Besides, Max and I aren’t interested in building a future together. We were both blindsided by our mutual attraction, and now we’re just enjoying it for what it is. Neither of us has any reason to feel guilty, and there’s no need to worry about the long-term consequences because there won’t be any.

  I snuggle into the coverlet, wanting to enjoy the peace and quiet a few minutes more. But seconds after closing my eyes, Max bursts through the door, his reusable travel mug in his hands. “Rise and shine and drink coffee, sweetheart. It’s time to get on the road.”

  I sit up and smooth my curls down. “But we don’t have a car yet.”

  He stands by the side of the bed, places the mug on the nightstand, and leans in for a soft kiss. As he pulls away, he takes my bottom lip with him, forcing me to get on my knees to prolong the sweet greeting. “TJ dropped your car off early. The bill’s paid—I figure we can settle up later—and we’re now free to go. It’s Easter Sunday, so I need to get back to Vienna for an early dinner with the family.”

  “Oh shoot, I do, too,” I say, climbing out of the bed and wrapping my hands around the travel mug. “I’m already going to get an earful about missing church.” I take a few sips, the liquid warming my belly like comfort food. “I’ll just throw on a fresh top and yesterday’s jeans and we can be on our way.”

  “And maybe you should brush your teeth,” Max says as he packs up his fancy phone charger.

  I stare at his back until he turns his head and glances at me with a wicked grin. Grumbling, I chuck a pillow at his head. “I’ll go freshen up.”

  He catches me at the door and wraps me in an embrace from behind. “I have a suggestion.”

  “What?” I ask, angling my head so he can press his lips against my neck.

  “Why don’t you stay in your T-shirt? It’s long enough and it’s actually cute. No one would ever know it wasn’t meant to be worn in public. And it’ll allow me to enjoy the sight of your fine-ass thighs on the drive home.”

  I playfully shake him off me. “I’ll think about it as I brush my teeth.”
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br />   In the bathroom, I decide his idea isn’t a bad one and add a thin belt to the T-shirt so I can pretend it’s a trendy outfit. It doesn’t work, but if it means Max will be able to slip his hands between my thighs in the car, I’ll suffer through this fashion crime. As I brush my teeth, I marvel at how easy we are together this morning. There’s no awkwardness at all, and I attribute that to our being honest about our intentions.

  When I reenter the room, Max is sitting in the armchair, a hardcover book and a sheet of paper balanced on his lap. “Don’t forget to fill out the retreat evaluation. James is standing at the front door making sure anyone leaving early turns it in before they go.”

  I grab my evaluation off the dresser, plop onto the armchair next to Max, and read the first question. “‘Did the retreat help bring you and your partner closer together?’ Hmm. Considering we were minutes away from clobbering each other and ended up giving each other mind-blowing orgasms, I’m going to check yes.”

  Max chuckles as he scribbles intensely. “What a coincidence. I wrote the exact same thing in the comments section.”

  “You did not,” I say, leaning over to read his paper.

  He lifts the sheet and slaps it against his chest. “These are private, ma’am. Mind your own evaluation.”

  I roll my eyes and finish answering the questions.

  When we’re both done, we gather our belongings and prepare to go. I give the room a last, wistful glance before I close the door behind me. We take a quick detour through the kitchen to grab a few muffins for our road trip, then we meet James in the foyer. He puts out his hand. The evaluations are his top priority.

  “Well, friends,” he says with a smile, “it’s been a pleasure getting to know you. I wish we could have spent a bit more time together, but I think you two got what you needed out of this experience.”

  I wink at Max and his mouth twitches.

  “We certainly did,” Max says.

  James leans in between us. “I’ll confess that in the years Wanda and I have been doing this, we rarely see new couples be so open with each other. It tells me that you two have the foundation to really make your relationship work.” He points at Max’s heart, then mine. “The tools are there. Now all you need to do is use them. Remember, communication is everything.”

  The first pangs of genuine guilt hit me. James is such a sweet man, and I hate that we lied to him about our relationship just to get a more comfortable stay. It’s true, however, that Max and I experienced a breakthrough yesterday, and this knowledge soothes the sting of remorse lodged in my chest. I pull out a card from my bag and hand it to James. “Listen, if you and Wanda are ever in DC, look me up. I’d love to take you to lunch sometime.”

  James studies the card. “Will do. We only make it up there for special occasions, but Wanda’s always harassing me about seeing a performance at the Kennedy Center. Maybe we can make a day of it.”

  I nod. “That’d be great. I can recommend a few places for dinner, too.”

  Max grabs my hand, raises it in front of me, and sweeps his mouth across my knuckles. “Baby, we need to get going. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and I want to take one last drive out past the flower fields.”

  My momentary shock at the casual way he kissed my hand is eclipsed by my confusion. He wants to tour the farm again? This is news to me.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you,” James says. “It’s a perfect day to be out there. If you drive out past where they grow heirlooms, you won’t see another soul for hours. An excellent place for a morning picnic.”

  “Yeah,” Max says. “Hannah mentioned yesterday that it’s a great location for photos. Figured Lina would want to see that, too.”

  She did? When did she say that?

  James raises a chin at Max. “Riiiight.” He tips an imaginary hat at us. “Enjoy and get home safely.”

  Outside, I circle the car and inspect it with a mother’s touch. “My baby’s all right.”

  “For now,” Max says under his breath.

  “And TJ cleaned it, too.”

  He stares at the car, plainly unimpressed. “It needs all the help it can get.”

  “Okay, you know what,” I say, pointing a finger at him, “this car is getting you home, so you may want to treat it with kindness.”

  He shakes his head at me, his lips curled in feigned disgust, but before he climbs into the car, I hear him whisper, “Sorry, banana cab.”

  Once I’m settled, I start the engine and place my hands on the steering wheel. “Okay, how do we get to this magical place you mentioned?”

  He points at a fork in the dirt road; both paths are hugged by rows of trees spaced closely together. “Head out that way, and don’t veer off. If we follow the road, we won’t get lost.”

  “Got it.” I let the driver’s-side window down a bit—enough to listen to the early morning sounds on the farm but not enough to jack up my hair. I expect to hear a horse’s neigh or an occasional cow moo, but I mostly hear birds chirping and heavy machinery churning in the distance. The sun is shining brightly, its rays casting a golden glow across the hayfields. “Beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

  Max nods slowly. “We couldn’t have asked for a better day.”

  After a minute of travel, the fence surrounding the farm’s livestock ends and the land blends into a mix of grass and trees followed by several fields, each with its own sign indicating the type of vegetable grown there. “You sure we’re going in the right direction?”

  The corners of Max’s mouth quirk up. “I’m not sure, but with all this outside my window, who cares where we end up.”

  “Well, I—”

  Before I can tell him I care, the scene that comes into view robs me of the ability to put even an ounce of snippiness into the world. “Oh my God, will you look at that.” Rows and rows of tulips—yellow, red, and bright pink ones—blanket the land as far as I can see. “Can we stop?”

  “I was hoping we would,” Max says, his eyes soft as he takes in my reaction.

  I park the car in a small clearing, and we jump out. I rush ahead of Max, running through the narrow paths between the rows as I let my fingers kiss the petals. I feel like a kid without a care, and I wish I could stay in this hidden corner of the world forever.

  Max snaps a picture of me with his phone, and we turn it into a silly photo shoot, complete with goofy faces and clichéd poses. When we’re done, I run ahead of him again, this time in the car’s direction, but he quickly catches up to me and takes my hand, slowing us down to a leisurely walk.

  “This is what you wanted me to see?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Saw it in a customer review and thought you’d love it.”

  “I do,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He puts an arm around me and buries his nose in my hair. “You’re welcome.”

  We’re doing what couples do, aren’t we? Well, couples in sappy movies, that is. Running through flower fields. Taking silly pics together. Strolling hand in hand. This isn’t supposed to be us, but somehow it is. Obviously we need a course correction.

  I pull out of his embrace. “Time to head back.” Striding with purpose, I reach the car in no time.

  Max tugs on my hand and stops me before I can slip inside. “Hang on a minute and turn around. This is your last shot to appreciate this view.”

  With my shoulders stooped, I relent and turn around. He studies my face as I gaze at the field, then he tugs me toward the hood of the car. “Sit. Relax. Enjoy.”

  I sigh, as if appreciating nature is off-putting. Chuckling and shaking his head, Max lifts me in his arms and gently deposits me on the hood.

  “Kiss me,” he says, his eyes glittering with seduction-on-the-brain fairy dust.

  I shouldn’t, even though I want to. Then again, wouldn’t this be a course correction of sorts? Whatever happens here will remind us both that this is mostly sex with a side of tentative friendship. Armed with watertight reasoning, I raise the hem of my T-shir
t—ah, so that’s why he made the suggestion—and open my legs wide enough to make a space for him, which he fills easily, the palms of his hands resting on the outsides of my thighs. I slip my hands around his neck and pull him close, angling my head before our mouths meet.

  This kiss is different. Harder. Messier. What it lacks in finesse it makes up for in enthusiasm. We’re focused on results rather than execution, as though we want to crawl inside each other and the kiss is the gateway that will allow us to enter. A rumble builds in Max’s chest and escapes his throat when I draw his hand between my thighs.

  “Touch me,” I manage to say between my own efforts to breathe in his scent and rub my nose against his cheeks and jaw.

  “Fuck, Lina, you’re . . . so . . . hot here,” he says.

  His voice is hoarse and uneven, but his fingers are certain as he swiftly pushes my panties to the side and slips two digits inside me.

  “Oh, yes, that’s it,” I say. Unable to keep my head up, I throw it back, widening my legs even farther.

  He strokes me over and over, his thumb feathering over my clit in an agonizing two-step that provides no relief. Desperate for release, I pull up and dig my fingers into his shoulders, riding his hand so I can chase the sensation of his thumb sweeping across my nub. I drop my head into the crook of his neck as I undulate against the hood of the car.

  “I want to fuck you,” he whispers. “Would you like that?”

  “If only,” I say on a sigh. “As soon as we get back, I’m getting us a bunker’s worth of condoms.”

  He taps me on the shoulder, at which point I lift my head and see a foil packet—a real condom package—in his hand. I snatch it away and study it as though it’s a new life-form.

  “Where’d you get this?” I ask.

  Max smirks. “The guy with the hairy arms? In our group? He hooked me up.”

  “Hairy Arms Guy came through for us,” I shout. “Woot!”