Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) (7 page)

“No, not like this.” I whispered across the table, the insanity he’d suspected proving itself as I continued. “Like a proper one where you are really into me. Touch me and stuff. Like you can’t keep your hands off me.”

“So you want me to touch you, like I want you.” An amused smile returned to his lips, his hand reaching across the table and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. His thumb grazed my cheek as he stared into my eyes, his fingers curling underneath my chin. Oh, he was good. I even bought it.

“Wow, yeah. Keep doing that.” I mumbled trying to discreetly glance in the direction I’d last seen micro penis. Torn between wanting him to be gone and wanting him to stay, his presence giving me a taste of Max even if it was just pretend.

“He’s still watching.” A quick survey found he was not only in the same spot, but now openly staring. “Here let me feed you some dessert.”

“Beth, you can’t, I—”

“I know it’s corny, just please do it.”

I was literally begging. Not sure why, I mean did I really care what the asshole thought? No, I didn’t, but what I didn’t want was some sort of confrontation in this nice establishment. Or anywhere because when it came to confrontation I sucked at it. Case in point, the boyfriend I hadn’t really ever broken up with sitting across from me.

“Okay.” A slow breath escaped his lips as he gave in, his eyes falling to the spoon I had dutifully loaded up with the strawberry shortcake I had barely touched.

He hesitated a beat before his mouth curled around the spoon, the strawberry coulis spilling onto his lips. The urge to lick it off was almost too great as I reminded myself where I was.

Damn he was good, his eyes closing as he savored the spoonful. I involuntarily moaned, not for anyone else’s benefit—I doubted anyone could hear us—but because I just couldn’t stop myself. His act completely fooled everyone; even I felt he was captivated by me.

“Beth.” His fingers brushed my cheek again. “We should go.”

Ordinarily I would have been onboard with this—my MO apparently getting out while the goings good—but leaving meant passing him. I mean, he was standing right near the door. Was I supposed to wave on my way out? Or pretend I’d developed blindness and couldn’t see the almost seven-foot tall giant who was blocking the doorway? That confrontation I was so keen to avoid would be getting airtime.

“Not yet, we even haven’t finished dessert.” I gave him my best seductive smile and hoped I didn’t look like a stroke victim.

“That must have been one hell of a bad date.” Max smiled, either buying into my seduction routine or amused by the effort.

“Trust me, the worst.” I loaded up my spoon again literally squirming at the thought of feeding him. I’ll admit I was probably enjoying it too much but go hard or go home, right? “He’s still looking.”

“Well, then we should give him something to look at.” Without warning Max was on his feet and beside my chair, his hand pulling me up to my feet. I had no time to even think about what was happening as his lips came down on mine.

His fingers trailed down my spine, coming to rest on my lower back as he pulled me in closer. His mouth devouring mine, possessively as I completely forgot what the hell we were doing.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss—no—it was hot and deep, his lips owning mine as he pulled me closer. It was nothing like I remembered, about a thousand times more intense. It was bending the laws of public decency and I didn’t care.

I took no notice if we were being watched—everything in the room fading into insignificance—as my body melded to his. And almost as suddenly as it started he pulled his mouth away. It was too soon, my lips still tingling from being pressed against his, my head slightly dizzy from the rush.

He didn’t waste time or ask questions as he waved over our server while fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. The hand that was dangerously low on my back stayed in place as we watched Natalie scamper over like a dutiful puppy. Her face a little worried as to why we were standing, eating each other instead of the food we’d ordered.

“Hi, is everything okay?” She looked down to the half-eaten desserts and unfinished glass of wine, our dinner not able to come to a natural conclusion.

“We need to leave in a hurry.” Max pulled out a couple of bills and handed them over. “This should cover it; dinner was great, thanks.” And judging by Natalie’s face, it included quite a sizeable tip.

She looked over the Presidents in her hand, reexamining them to make sure they were in fact Benjamins and not Jacksons. “Um . . . Do you want me to wrap anything for you?”

“Nope, thanks. You’ve been great.” Max handed me my purse which had been sitting on the table beside us. “Beth, we need to leave now.”

“Sure.” I smiled a little too enthusiastically, and it had nothing to do with the audience as he guided my body away from the table.

In a maneuver that would have made Mikhail Baryshnikov jealous, he twirled me around and pulled me close into his side, waltzing toward the front door with his arms around me.

If anyone was still there and/or watching, I no longer cared. I wasn’t even sure if he or I were acting anymore.

That kiss—the one I could still feel on my lips—had been amazing. It lit a fire inside of me that I could never have faked. And as bad an idea as I knew it was, I wanted another. My previous arguments on why we should remain just friends, no longer seeming valid.

We walked out, my eyes on Max the entire time. I legitimately didn’t see nor care about anyone else in the room, my feet doing their best at keeping me upright and walking at the same time.

“My car isn’t far.” He didn’t even ask if I was going home with him, he just rightfully assumed I was. I ignored the fact that we lived in the same apartment building, so
technically
he could just be offering me a ride.
Shut up logic, I’m way beyond you now.

“Okay,” I agreed, my feet moving faster than I thought they probably needed to.

Obviously I hadn’t been the only one who needed another kiss, the desperation to get us to his car and alone evident in the pace we were keeping, at this point almost running down the street. Which considering I was wearing heels, took quite the effort.

“Um, Max, we should slow down.” A sprained ankle would seriously put a damper on things. And while I was anxious to be alone—and have those lips on me again—we weren’t racing against a clock. It was only nine-thirty tops, I was fairly sure neither of us were turning into pumpkins at midnight.

“Actually we can’t. We need to get to a drug store, now.”

We stopped in front of his classic black muscle car, which I’d assumed was either going to be the venue for more action or take us to somewhere that would be. The key going into the door confirmed it as he yanked open the door. “Please get in Beth, we need to go.”

I hadn’t thought past the kiss.

Normally, you could share a kiss after a date—even though it hadn’t originally been a date—and there would be no expectations of more. There was a system, but when you had
already
slept with the person, there was a certain gray area as to what base we should be sliding into. Not saying I didn’t want a homerun, I mean, maybe? Oh hell, I had no idea what I wanted, I was so confused.

“Max, we should slow down—I mean, we need to talk—”

“Beth, whatever you are thinking, it’s not.” He cut me off not allowing me to continue. “The dessert you were so insistent you shovel into my mouth had strawberries in it.”

Well, yeah of course it did. It was a strawberry shortcake, it said right there in the title.

OH SHIT!

“You’re allergic to strawberries,” I almost screamed, my mind and body hitting the panic as his desperation made sense. “Oh. My. God.” I struggled to not hyperventilate, was he going to die? “Why did you eat it?”

“I tried to say no; you made it very difficult.”

“Am I going to kill you? Do you have epinephrine? I can inject you.”

“Relax, I don’t need a shot. The allergy isn’t that bad, I’m not anaphylactic, but I’m already breaking out in hives, so we need to get to the drug store quick. Now, will you please get in the car?” He reached up and scratched his neck as his other hand helped open the door I had yet to climb through.

“Yes, Yes. Of course.” I slipped into the passenger seat, waiting for him to get in on his side. My eyes glued to his chest in case there were breathing problems.

He slid into his seat and closed the car door behind him. The ignition roared to life before he’d even fastened his seatbelt.

“It’s really going to be fine, don’t look so scared.”

I didn’t just look scared, I was scared. Oh God, please don’t let anything bad happen. I swear I’ll never date again, just don’t let him die.

Of all the stupid
things I had done, I had never tried to kill someone before. Not that I had—Max was still breathing, thank you baby Jesus—but I don’t think the jury would have bought my I’m-sorry-I-forgot when I shoveled potentially life threatening allergens into his mouth.

It didn’t matter that Max had played it off as no big deal—the danger of death almost nonexistent—I was guilty and deserved to be punished.

I was a teacher, the severity of food allergies all but beaten into us. I knew the implications of it all and what damage they could do. While I’d been fortunate enough not have had to deal with one first hand, I’d heard the horror stories from colleagues and school parents. This was very much a big deal.

The drive to the drug store hadn’t been far—another reason I was whispering heavenly thank yous—and with Max leaving the engine running while I sprinted inside and bought about ten packets of Benadryl and a bottle of water. Sure that didn’t look shady at all. I was almost positive the pharmacist was suspicious, but last time I checked you couldn’t make Meth from antihistamines so he sold me the drugs with some serious side eye and a cloud of judgment. Like I didn’t already have enough of that going on.

Then it was back in the car to get Max home and medicated.

I screamed. The car door behind me muffling my shirk of fear when I turned to see Max’s face pinked and covered in red welts, his lips puffy from swelling. It wasn’t as hideous as the scream had probably implied, I just hated the perfection of his face marred with the welts. Knowing I had caused it was even worse. His
it’s okays
tried to reassure me even though it was
him
who needed help.

I couldn’t even offer to drive him home. Not that I actually knew how to drive a stick shift, but I would have worked it out. Hopefully before leaving his transmission on the side of the road. But we didn’t even get that far, my blood alcohol well above the legal limit courtesy of one or two too many refills on my wine.

Thank God—clearly I had found a renewed faith in religion—we were parked in the undercover garage soon after. The small mercy that Christina’s and the drug store had been within blocks of our apartments.

The car stalled to a stop, with the ordeal hopefully coming to an end as well as I ran around to the driver’s side and helped Max out of his seat.

“I’m fine.” He’d tried to reassure me for the five millionth time while I clung to him with one hand and the paper bag with enough Benadryl to take down an elephant in the other. Max was a lot of things,
fine
was not one of them right now.

“No, I got you into this mess, I need to fix it.” Or at least implement some damage control. I still wasn’t convinced we shouldn’t be heading to an emergency room, my fingers ready to hit 9-1-1 at any second. I was already hyperventilating at his refusal to take the meds before we got home, if I’d had my way I’d have shoved them down his throat earlier.

“It’s not that bad, I’m not going to die. I promise.” Max laughed.

He laughed.

Like I hadn’t just tried to poison him under the guise of sweet creamy goodness. What’s worse is it was for my own selfish reasons. There was sure to be a special place in hell for people like me.

Thankfully I didn’t have to deal with any more judgment or evil stares, bypassing the lobby and heading directly to his penthouse. Once inside the elevator I let go of my grip on him as I tore into the paper bag, the bottle of water and boxes of drugs spilling onto the floor as we continued to climb.

“Shit!” I sunk to my knees snatching the packs and the bottle. His ever-present grin widening as I got back on my feet.

If this wasn’t such a life and death—his assurances it wasn’t hadn’t convinced me—situation I’d assume that smile was less innocent, me on my knees in front of him. Although it was probably only my own sick perverted mind that would think something sexual at a time like this. I swear I’m not a bad person.

My fingers fumbled with the stupid child-resistant foil backing while I tried to pry the pills from the box’s clutches. The elevator opening before I was able to complete my operation.

“You know the allergy hasn’t made me incapacitated.” He held out his hand’s offering to lighten my load. No need, I had this. Or at least I hoped I had this. The paper bag that had given me so much trouble shoved under my arm so I could better deal with this ridiculous packaging.

“No, no, it’s cool.” I stepped out of the elevator, nodding my head repeatedly like an idiot, Max following close behind.

Success! Those pesky pills finally coming loose, popping into my hand as we walked to his door. And not a moment too soon, his hesitation to take them before we reached home because he had to drive and they made him drowsy.

“Take these.” I shoved pills into his mouth without warning, his eyeballs opening wide at my hand against his mouth.

“Water.” He choked, clutching at his throat.

Shit. I knew I’d forgotten something, the bottle of water I’d retrieved from the elevator floor returned to the bag where it stayed, not helping. My fingers quickly twisted the cap and pushed the lip of the bottle against his mouth, the water flowing quickly as he swallowed.

At this point I can safely say that I can rule out any career change into the medical profession. I sucked as a nurse. I mean realllllly sucked, the water I was trying to pour into his mouth spilling across his chin and down his chest. My effort to help, making him splutter.

“You really are trying to kill me.” He coughed, sliding the bottle out of my hand and into his own. His shirt wet, as he used his other hand to wipe his chin. “You need to relax.” His smiled returned, as he walked us to his apartment.

Relaxing was not something I could see happening right now. I don’t know how he was blasé about it or how he couldn’t hate me.

Anyone else would have probably looked like a scary mutant.

But not Max.

His lips had puffed, slightly swollen, but not so much that they were distorted, in fact most of the people I know would have paid big bucks for the same effect. Even the welts weren’t that horrible. If it had been me, I’d have looked like I had some freaky skin necrosis. At the very least—okay, I was drawing at straws—I hadn’t ruined his beautiful face.

He unlocked his front door, the process taking less than a second before we had walked into the dark open space. His hand reached for the light switch so the room flooded with brightness.

“I’m so sorry.”

I wasn’t sure how many times I’d said it, but it wouldn’t be enough. Honestly, I felt terrible. What’s worse is that I had always known about his intolerance to strawberries and in the panic I’d forgotten.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m going to be okay. It’s really not that big a deal.” Max moved closer, his hands moving down my arms, the paper bag still tight in my grip.

“Can’t you just be angry at me?” I shook my head as he pulled the paper bag from my fingers and tossed it onto the coffee table, its existence meaning his new pad was now fully furnished. “I swear you being so cool with the situation is making me feel worse.”

Not once had he blamed me, and if there was anyone at fault, it was me. Instead he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me close to his chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the hug or the steady beating of his heart that gave me comfort.

“Do you remember that time you borrowed my car and hit a trashcan and scraped paint off the fender?” He laughed, his hand gently pulling back my hair.

“Oh God, how could I forget? I threw up three times before I worked up the courage to tell you.”

It had been terrible. Not because I was worried about him being upset, but because I hated that I’d wrecked his beloved car.

“Did I yell? Or lose my shit?” He tilted his head to the side waiting for me to confirm what he already knew the answer to.

“Well . . . no.” He hadn’t even been upset. Just kissed me, asked if I was okay and told me accidents happened. He didn’t even let me pay for the repair, saying it added character to the car and left it as it was. At the time I thought it had been incredibly sweet—the perfect boyfriend—now I know I should have insisted.

“What about the time you washed my white vintage Soundgarden T-shirt with a pair of red socks? Did I fly off the handle then?” Max smiled, his hands moving to my chin.

I had come home from college over summer. I had spent more time with him and Joey than my own family. He hadn’t let me pay for groceries even though I was another mouth to feed and he was earning minimum wage so I did his laundry to try and thank him. I probably should have checked what was already in the machine before adding whites, his T-shirt coming out a lovely shade of pink when it was done with the spin cycle.

“Are you trying to remind me of everything I’ve done where I sucked? Clearly I was a terrible girlfriend.”

If there had been a time Max had been upset at me then I hadn’t been around to witness it. Not to say that he didn’t have a temper, I’d seen him get his hulk out when it mattered but that fury had never been directed at anyone he cared about. Not even his moronic lazy pot-smoking brother.

“You were not a terrible girlfriend.” His hands gently moved against the line of my jaw. “I’m trying to illustrate—probably badly because the drugs are starting to kick in—that I have a hard time being mad at you.”

“Well that’s dumb; those excuses alone would be very valid. No one would blame you.”

It was hard to look at him. Not because I felt bad—fine, not the only reason—but because looking into those brown eyes of his time traveled us back to the Bronx. Being in the house he shared with Joey, both of us broke and yet to realize our dreams. How happy he’d made me, how safe I’d felt. It was like being home.

“I’m not interested in what anyone else thinks.” He moved closer, his hands holding my face so I had nowhere to go as he pressed his lips to mine, softly, a tease. My mouth parted for him without waiting for my brain to give it permission, wanting more of what he was giving me.

“No one is watching this time,” he whispered against my lips. “And the only person able to stop me, is you.”

He didn’t wait for my reply, his mouth owning mine as his arms brought me closer. His tongue desperate like it couldn’t get enough. And it had my sympathies because I couldn’t get enough either. I wasn’t sure what the kiss meant or what was going through his mind, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

My hands grabbed his ass and pulled him close, the evidence of his arousal hitting my stomach—I guess I knew one thing that was going through his mind—as my body flicked into autopilot.

A moan escaped my lips as his knee parted my thighs. His hands moved across my body and landed at the base of my dress, the hem finding its way to my hip as his leg pushed against my core. The heat in between my legs felt like I would combust if he didn’t touch me more, his body reading my cues as his hands palmed my ass and he lifted me off the ground. The ridge of his rock hard cock stroked me through his jeans while my fingernails bit into his back.

If I thought I’d spent some time in the gym, it had nothing on what he had been doing. My constant tugging saw the shirt he’d been wearing very quickly removed.
Well done, hands
, I silently thanked them for their efficiency.

And if I’d been impressed before the removal of the shirt, then I had no hope dealing with reality. His firm body of chiseled perfection enough to make Chris Hemsworth jealous, my fingertips glided along the contours of his back while he yanked at my zipper.

Stopping would have been a good idea, or at the very least slowing it down. But I didn’t want to stop, my body craving him more with every kiss and touch. He lowered me only for a second, just enough for my dress to pool at my feet, his battle with my zipper conquered as my skin goose pimpled under his hands.

We were both adults, I rationalized. It wasn’t our first time and I had spent more time in a relationship with Max than out if it. He probably knew my body better than I did; this was totally not like a one night stand. Not that I assumed it would go on longer than tonight. So what if it was only for pleasure, no one was getting hurt. All valid. No reason at all to stop.

Except.

“Hey, are you okay?”

His mouth had stopped kissing, his lips opening and closing with no real rhythm. His motor skills were also off, his hands anchored at the base of my spine using my body more for stability, than for the erotic rendezvous I’d assumed we were moving toward.