CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Max woke slowly the next morning, the bright sun streaming in the windows letting him know in no uncertain terms that the night was over. A new day was upon them. A fresh start.
But what a night it had been.
Carrie had been delightfully wanton, unashamed of her sexuality and her clear enjoyment of Max’s lovemaking. Vocal in her applause, she’d exhorted him to a performance even he hadn’t believed possible. His appetite for her was insatiable and he couldn’t get enough of her hoarsely calling his name when she found her release.
Ah yes, the orgasms. He’d lost count of how many times she’d climaxed last night. It had been twice in the limousine. Once on the stairs when he’d pressed his face between her creamy thighs and used his tongue to elicit the second screaming of his name that evening. Then several more as they’d rolled around his king-sized bed for the better part of the night.
He’d never known a female as responsive or as giving. Her generosity as a lover went far beyond what he’d experienced in the past. As hungry as he was to explore every square centimeter of her body she seemed just as eager, pushing him back on the mattress and kissing and caressing him from head to toe until he was ready to explode.
Clearly his body as well as his brain remembered their activities because his cock was at full attention. Pressing against her pert little bottom, he wrapped his arms around her, allowing his fingers to trail up her ribcage and then cup her full, round breasts. Her flesh was warm to the touch and as smooth as satin against his much rougher skin. He couldn’t help but be fascinated with their differences. Carrie was so much smaller than he was, more delicate, and she brought forth all of his protective instincts.
Chuckling at his flight of fancy, he traced her bellybutton with the tips of his fingers and her hips jerked in response. Carrie would laugh at the direction his thoughts had traveled. She considered herself to be a strong, independent woman.
And she was…
But she also needed to be cosseted and spoiled a little bit too, not that she’d ever allow him to do that.
“Max,” she sighed, stirring slightly, her plump lips falling open and her eyelids fluttering as she awoke. Her long, fiery red hair was like a silk curtain on the pillow and it was all he could do not to bury his face in it. Tyler was right. Carrie had no idea how beautiful she was nor how she affected him and every other red-blooded male in her orbit. Her fiancé had been a bloody idiot.
His loss. My gain.
“What do you think you’re doing, young man?”
Chuckling, Max bit down gently on her earlobe and then traced a wet path down her neck with his tongue. “Good morning, love.”
Carrie stretched and pressed her cute little derriere more firmly against his cock. “Good morning, although I should be mad at you. You kept me up half the night and then woke me early as well. Cruel, Max, very cruel.”
Burying his face in her luxuriant hair, his fingers wandered down to the cleft between her thighs. He groaned when her found her already wet and ready.
“Funny, I thought it was you who kept me…up…all night.”
Lifting her leg up and back over his own, he pushed into her slowly, savoring every moment of her tight walls pulling him in. Her soft sigh was his reward when he was in to the hilt and set a leisurely pace, content to take it easy in the bright light of day.
“You’re a bad boy, Maxwell Hayes.”
“The worst,” he agreed, his voice still morning-rough to his own ears. “The devil incarnate. Want me to stop?”
Carrie moaned as he hit an especially sensitive spot. “Don’t you dare.”
He hadn’t honestly been planning to.
Their lovemaking was tender and gentle, almost lazy in its complete unhurried pace. Max was cognizant of how they’d ravaged each other during the nighttime hours and she might be sore. He wanted to make Carrie feel amazing, not hurt her.
His fingers traced circles around her swollen and sensitive clit, hopefully pushing her closer to the edge. His own arousal had built, the pressure in his lower back becoming almost unbearable in its intensity.
“It’s time, my pretty one. Will you come with me?”
Gasping, she nodded as her head fell back on his shoulder. “Yes, faster. I need more.”
Max sped his fingers up and thrust in once…twice…three times. That was all it took. Carrie’s tiny frame stiffened as her orgasm hit, her fingernails digging into his scalp where she’d burrowed her hand into his hair. His own climax came quickly after, a torrent of exquisite pleasure so strong it was almost pain.
It was only later when their breathing and heart rate had gone back to normal that he was able to speak. No one was more aware than he that they’d crossed a line last night but he didn’t want her to be unsure or nervous. They were both joyful participants in this and he hoped she wouldn’t feel any sort of misgivings this morning. He didn’t regret a thing.
“That was amazing,” he finally said, dropping a kiss on the tempting curve of her shoulder. He could spend all day finding things about her that he adored. “How about we go out for breakfast?”
If Carrie was having second thoughts he wanted to know sooner rather than later. Because if she didn’t regret last night…
He was going to want to make love to her again as soon as possible.
* * *
Her stomach growling, Carrie quickly slid her feet into her high heels and smoothed down her rumpled dress. To anyone with half a brain cell it was going to be obvious that she was doing the walk of shame this morning after spending the night with a man. The outfit that had looked so glamorous and sexy last night now looked trampy and garish. Her smeared makeup and rat’s nest hair didn’t help. She wouldn’t be surprised if mothers moved their children to opposite side of the street when they saw her. She might as well have a flashing neon sign on her forehead.
I had sex last night and it was awesome.
Frankly it was the best she’d ever had so the walk home in her eveningwear was the price of pleasure, she supposed. Funny how things turn out. She wasn’t frigid, defective, or too good of a girl to have great sex. She’d simply needed a man who knew what he was doing. Max certainly could navigate his way around the female anatomy. He knew what to do and wasn’t afraid to do it. He’d encouraged her inner vixen to make an appearance and then spent the evening making her glad she’d…come.
Several freakin’ times. Last night was going to be hard to top.
She tromped down the stairs where Max was waiting, if a bit impatiently. He stood next to the door, his foot tapping while he checked his watch. To her shock it hadn’t been incredibly awkward this morning. He hadn’t tried to make too much eye contact and he’d kept the conversation incredibly impersonal. He was so good at not making her uncomfortable it made her wonder how often he woke up with a woman in his bed.
“How is it possible that I took a shower and changed into fresh clothes and I’m still ready before you?”
He wasn’t mad or even frustrated. There was a teasing smile on his face that she returned. He did have a point.
“I’m a girl.”
That smile become more evil and wolfish. Now this was interesting. The impersonal Max was gone and his evil twin had appeared. “You certainly are.”
“Seriously, I tried to fix my destroyed hair and makeup but eventually gave up. I think this is the best I can do for the walk home.”
Frowning, his gaze swept her up and down. “I think I can help with that.”
Striding to the foyer closet, he pulled out a trench coat and held it up.
“This should cover everything but your shoes,” he said with a smile. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable walking back to your place.”
Thoughtful was the first word that sprung to her mind. Gentleman was the second. She let him hold it up for her while she slid her arms into the sleeves.
“Thank you. I promise when we get to my place I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time.”
Snorting, she retrieved her purse from the table by the front door. “I’m not hurrying for you, Hamlet. I’m starving here. Wasting away to nothing.”
He bowed low, his lips twitching with a grin. “How tragic. We’d best get a move on then. After you, my dear.”
The weather was mild but the gray clouds had begun to gather so she didn’t look too out of place in Max’s raincoat. They didn’t get halfway down the walk when a man showed up at the wrought iron gate brandishing a large envelope. For a split second Carrie froze, thinking it was a paparazzi capturing their morning after but the man didn’t appear to have a camera. He waited patiently until Max opened the gate and then thrust the envelope into his hands.
“Package from Arthur Blaisdell. Sign here.”
Max scribbled his signature on a small receipt and the messenger hurried away without another word, clearly not interested in the movie star he’d come into contact with.
Turning the legal-sized envelope over in his hands, Max gazed at it as if he was afraid to open it. His ebullient mood had fizzled away, leaving the frowning man she’d become accustomed to since they’d met.
“Arthur is my solicitor,” he finally said, his voice low. “These must be the final divorce papers.”
His words struck a blow straight to her chest, sucking the oxygen from her lungs. Was Max regretting the split from Alana? Carrie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond, especially considering she’d just spent last night naked in Max’s bed.
“That’s good. Right?”
He looked up, a strained smile on his face. “It’s very good. It’s just that it’s a reminder that I’m a failure at marriage, love, and relationships.”
Alana sure hadn’t made it easy.
“It takes two to fail at matrimony.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “Either way, it’s done and over with. I can move on now.”
Was he not moving on before? What had last night been? Carrie had hoped something had shifted in their relationship. The way he’d held her this morning with such tenderness didn’t speak of a man getting his rocks off with a one night stand. But what did she know about movie stars and their sexual habits? He was an actor and that made his actions and words automatically suspect. She genuinely liked Max and she had harbored a hope – a tiny one – that he might feel the same. That maybe he wanted to…date her.
He held up the folder. “Let me put this inside and then we’ll walk to your place. Just give me a minute.”
Carrie could use a moment or two alone as well. She’d known going into last night that she would probably regret making love with Max. Even if she was his type – which she clearly wasn’t based on his ex-girlfriends and wife – he was fresh off of a marital breakup and she didn’t want to be his rebound girl.
There might not be a great love and passion between them but they did have great sex. Was it enough for her? With every single relationship in her past, she’d had an eye on “forever” and damned if they hadn’t all crashed and burned eventually. It might be time to simply have some fun. Enjoy Max and her time in London while she could. It would be something she’d remember for the rest of her life. She could look back fondly in her old age. Tell her lady friends at the nursing home about the movie star she’d shagged that one summer.
Because she had to face facts. Walking away from Maxwell Hayes wasn’t something she was prepared to do. Not yet. She wasn’t in love with him but he’d definitely wormed his way into her affections despite all her defenses. If a fling was what he offered her, then that is what she’d take. She was tired of being the organized, efficient, predictable Carrie Johnson. It was time to shake up her life and this was the first step to a new her.
Scratch that. Second step.
The first step had been the wild sex they’d had last night.
That had worked out pretty well after all.
I can have casual sex. I’m just fine with it.
That only left one question and it was surely going to be discussed at breakfast.
Just what did Max want?