Neighborly Complications (Stories of Serendipity #1) (19 page)

“Shhh…Claire. It’s okay. You love him.”

“I can’t love him.” She looked at Summer through teary eyes. “I haven’t known him long enough to love him.”

“Doesn’t matter, he loves you too.”

“No. He loves Katherine. She was his first love. I can’t compete with that.”

“He does love Katherine, but in a completely different way.” She scooted away from Claire, but still held her hands between them. “The love he has for Katherine is different. It’s a comfortable love, one that grows over time, starting as friendship, and growing into something more long-term. They grew up together, from infants. They’d always been together.” She stopped and watched Claire to make sure she was understanding. “When Katherine died, it was like he lost an arm.”

Claire nodded. “How can I ever compete with that kind of love? I’ll never be his arm, Summer.”

“Because you’re his heart, Claire. What he has with you is a passion he never had with Katherine. She never made him mad like you do. He was never desperate with her like he is with you. You keep him on his toes, out of control, guessing what you’re going to do next. And he loves every minute of it.” She stroked Claire’s hair, and suddenly she was reminded of an old woman. Summer was such an old soul, wrapped up in this tiny, pink-haired body. “You make him
feel
Claire. He loves you every bit as much as he loves Katherine, maybe more. It took a little bit for him to get over the guilt of realizing that, but he does, and he needs you. And you need him.” Summer stood. “I’m going to go next door and visit with my brother. You go upstairs and take a shower, then go over and talk to Max. Don’t leave because of him. We all want you to stay.” She bent and kissed Claire on the cheek before leaving.

Claire sat in stunned silence after Summer left, thinking over her words. Was it possible? Could Summer be that astute? Or was she just seeing what she wanted to see? Claire had only lived here about a month. Was that enough time for love to blossom?

She didn’t know about the whole love thing, but she had to admit to herself that the thought of leaving Max was killing her more than anything else. She could handle meth-heads breaking in and terrorizing her. She could handle sinking every last drop of money, sweat, tears and blood into this house over and over again. She could even handle a little girl ghost, and not ever finding the gold that was supposedly hidden here.

But she couldn’t handle not having Max in her life.

She’d thought that meant she should be friends with him. But the way he made her feel when they were together spoke of things that friendship couldn’t touch. Tom had never made her feel that way. Neither had anybody else, for that matter. Claire stood and went to take a shower.

A half an hour later, Claire walked over to Max’s house and knocked on the door, not having a clue what she was going to say.

When he answered the door, she couldn’t speak because all of the air in the atmosphere was gone. He stood there, water dripping from his hair onto his chest, beading up and running down his abs, to land on a seemingly tiny towel that wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes and opened them, looking at her. “Claire. Is everything alright?”

Nodding, she took a step forward, then stopped. Averting her eyes, she desperately tried to remember why she had come.

She came over here to talk —- to tell him she was sorry, again, for being such a bitch. She wanted to tell him she would be honored to have him become a part of her life. That she would stay here with him. But she couldn’t remember any of that right now.

“Max, I wanted to see you.” She turned towards him again, standing there wearing nothing but a towel that a gust of wind could whip off at any moment. Right then, she said a little prayer for wind.

He opened the door wider to invite her in, watching her carefully. She came in and stood just inside the door, looking around. His house was filled with handmade furniture that matched the kitchen table she had admired before. Had he made all of it? Who has time for that? Why was she looking at his furniture? She turned to face Max.

“I don’t know what to say, but we need to…I’m sorry.” She was feeling so awkward and wasn’t sure what to do. “I’ve obviously interrupted your –”

His lips were on hers before she could finish the thought. She wound her hands in his hair and leaned herself into his kiss. As his arms wrapped around her, his lips teased hers, his tongue tasting her lips. His hands rubbed from her neck all the way down to her butt and then back up again. She opened her mouth to his and let her tongue taste his lips. His lips opened and his tongue darted out to flick against her teeth and then back into its own domain. His hands came down to her hips and pulled her against his wet towel and enormous erection. Insides quivering, her hands came down to his shoulders and moved down his chest, feeling the water run off him and down her arms. He groaned when her fingertips brushed his nipples. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.

“I’m so sorry for last night. I can’t tell you how big of a mistake I made.” His eyes so close to hers were filled with regret that made her heart ache.

She put her finger against his lips to stop him. “No, Max. I’m sorry. I’ve been such a bitch with you. I don’t see how you can stand me.”

He kissed her then, a tender merciless nibbling kiss that sent her mind reeling. It was such a soft suckle on her lips that she wasn’t sure how she could take anymore.

Against her lips, he asked, “Why are you here, Claire?”

“I want you.” She could barely find the air to talk, her tortured breathing making her voice sound foreign to her own ears.

He chuckled, a rumbling laugh that squeezed her insides. “That would make everything less complicated. Are you sure you could handle it?”

“I can handle anything.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he drawled. With a low growl, his lips devoured hers, while he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to a bedroom. Claire had a sudden sense of rightness, of joy that her life was suddenly going in the right direction. In Max’s arms, she felt cherished, like she finally had another person in her life she could depend on.

He laid her down on the bed and climbed on top of her, still kissing her, his weight a warm comfort to Claire. The kisses moved down her throat to her neck, setting her body aflame. One of his hands came up under her shirt and cupped a breast. Claire moaned in response to the touch that made her feel like so feminine, so valued, and so turned on. She sat up and took off her tank top to allow him better access.

“My God, Claire, you are stunning,” he breathed. She reached up and grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him back to her mouth, kissing him hungrily. He pulled her up so that they were facing each other. The stared at each other, drinking in the sight of one another, like thirsty travelers. Max’s hands toyed with her breasts, tweaking the nipples until she was gasping for air. She undid his towel so that he sprang free. She’d seen it before, but in the daylight, the shaft of velvety steel was intimidating. She looked into Max’s face, mouth agape.

He smiled sheepishly, “Don’t worry, I’ve never gotten it stuck in anything that it hasn’t come loose from eventually.” And then he lowered his mouth to her breasts. She fell back on the pillow and succumbed to the sensations of his lips and tongue. He really knew how to use his mouth. His tongue flicked her nipple, then sucked it, then flicked it, then bit it, then tweaked it, then sucked it, and on and on and on. It was torture. She moaned with the sheer pleasure of it. His hands found the clasp on her jeans, and slowly, he unzipped the zipper and pulled them off. His mouth left a trail of kisses from one breast to the other, then down to her navel, then lower. She grabbed his hair, pulled his head back up to her face and kissed him.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t even recognize her own voice; it was so full of passion.

“I’m making love to you, Claire. I’m pleasing you. I want to see you.” He lowered his head again, trailing his tongue down to her navel, swirling in circles around her belly button, then going lower still. Max’s fingers slipped inside her panties and pulled them down. Claire couldn’t keep still, she squirmed with anticipation of what he would touch and kiss next.

His fingers rubbed small circles around her nub, eliciting a startled gasp from her. The circles got wider, creating friction against the folds of her womanhood. His hands spread her legs wide and he dipped his head down to breathe his hot breath against the apex of her thighs. She moaned. There was absolutely no describing this experience. His tongue licked her button, while he breathed his hot breath on it. He licked and sucked, and then while he was doing that, he slipped a finger inside the folds and found the perfect spot inside her to tickle. She moaned and gasped and bucked, holding his head right where it was, not ever wanting him to stop this magic that he was doing to her. As wave of pleasure washed over wave of pleasure, she climaxed around his fingers, screaming his name, while he watched from his perch between her legs.

His intense gaze watching her from down there while she peaked was one of the most erotic experiences of her life.

“Would you reach into that drawer and get out a condom?” So polite, as if she could move.

“Nu-uh.” Claire was jelly.

He chuckled and reached over to get one himself, sheathing his – Wow, he really was big. Claire seriously wasn’t sure where all of that was going to fit.

He lay down next to her and put his hand on her hip. “Are you still okay with this?” He looked at her searchingly.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Claire grabbed his hair and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him, tasting herself. While Claire tried to kiss him into a stupor, drinking deeply of the kiss, he rolled on top of her, putting his weight on his elbows, moving his thighs between hers and entered her in one swift thrust. Claire gasped around his lips, and on his next push, she met him sinking him fully in her flesh. She hooked her feet behind his back and tilted her hips, meeting his thrusts. Max rocked against Claire, filling her and emptying her, again and again. With each motion, she relished the feel of him against her inner walls, then mourned the absence of him, before he filled her again.

His movements were slow, and Claire could hear his agonized breathing, as he tried to stave off his own pleasure for hers. Again, she felt cherished, and briefly wondered what she had ever done to deserve such a man. Then she lost herself to the sensations of him again. He continued kissing her neck and shoulders while he rocked inside of her, and as he leaned down and captured a nipple in her mouth, while filling her at the same time, Claire moaned at the overwhelming sensations.

Max groaned and picked up his pace, until he was slamming forcefully inside her. She could feel the warmth building again inside, and the grunts and groans that Max was letting out only heightened everything. The scent of his sweat and her sex mingled together to create another erotic sensation that Claire was powerless to ignore. The waves of pleasure crashed inside her again, causing her to shudder as she climaxed around him. As he felt her climax, he gave one final plunge and froze on top of her. She looked up at him, to see the painful pleasure of orgasm ripple across his face. He looked down at her, breathing hard and smiled.

That had never happened to Claire
. Never. In. My. Whole. Life.

“I’ve heard about sex like that. It always sounded so nice.”

Max chuckled a low, throaty, growly, totally, damned sexy chuckle and spooned behind her, pulling her close, with his hands around her waist. “Nice, huh? I’ll try harder next time.”

“Max?”

“Hmm?” His nose was in her hair. His breath was tickling the back of her neck. She liked it.

“I think I like making things less complicated.”

His hand crawled up her torso and stroked a breast, lazily. “Me too.” He mumbled into her neck.

C
laire stroked his hair until he fell asleep, and then she watched him. She hadn’t come over here to have sex with him, and now that it had happened, she wasn’t sure what to do. She thought back to last night and how turned on she’d been. Was this unfinished business? Or was it something more?

Claire had always assumed too much about her past relationships, and Max seemed so fragile at times, she didn’t want to mess it up with him. Claire had to admit to herself that she cared for Max more than she’d ever cared for anybody else. Summer had been right. She might even love him.

But she couldn’t assume the same about him, no matter what everybody said about him never being this way about another woman. Lust was a powerful emotion, too. And now that they’d had sex, he may have gotten her out of his system.

That was a painful thought, and Claire felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She’d never cried so much in her life as she had since she’d moved here.

Gently, Claire extricated herself from under Max’s body and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. She tiptoed around to the other side of the bed to get her clothes, when she saw the picture on the nightstand.

Picking it up, she saw a younger Max and a woman who could only be Katherine. He was behind her, holding her close to him, and they both had impossibly bright smiles on their faces. They looked perfect.

She studied the picture carefully, noticing the details of it: his hands grasping her forearms under her breasts, the way she leaned back into his protective embrace, as if he’d never let go, the promise of the future in their eyes. Her eyes travelled back to Max, sleeping in his bed. His face had more lines on it now, but they were smoothed with sleep, and he almost looked as young as he did in the picture. Did he talk to the picture? At night before he went to sleep, or in the morning when he woke up?

She finally understood that he mourned the future he and Katherine were supposed to have together, a future that couldn’t include her.

Carefully, she set the photo back down on the nightstand, and wiping a silent tear from her cheek, she took her clothes into the bathroom and got dressed.