Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(116)

Marjory smiled, clearly satisfied with my answer.

"Well, if you're sure, Lily, then your mother and I support whatever decision you make."

I nodded and looked at Max. "I'm sure."

"Great!" Bill exclaimed as his hand slapped his knee. "Now that all that's out of the way, what's for dessert?"

"Classy, Dad."

"What? We were all thinking it," Bill defended.

"I'm pretty sure everyone else was thinking about how great Lily and I are together," Max replied as he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. "Until you completely bulldozed the moment, that is."

"I'm going to bulldoze this table if someone doesn't bring me a piece of cake or a brownie or something. I slaved over a hot grill for you, and you can't even get me a piece of pie. With some ice cream. And maybe sprinkles."

"Ignore him, Howard and Lynn. He gets antsy without his post-dinner sugar fix," Marjory explained.

"Don't let her change the subject. She's just trying to keep dessert to herself. I'm wise to your games, woman."

My parents were grinning widely, clearly amused by Max's dad. And I couldn't blame them. If Bill was any indicator of what Max would be like in twenty years, then I was in for a life full of laughs.

"Max and I brought dessert. I'll go get it." I got out of my chair as if doing so was a great burden, though I couldn't stifle my grin. "I'll be right back."

When I got to the kitchen, I pulled the apple pie we brought out of the fridge and grabbed a plate to serve it on. Then I spread the cookies I’d made earlier around the outside of the plate. I was reaching up to grab dessert plates from Marjory's cabinets when I felt two strong arms wrap around me from behind.

"What are you doing in here?" I asked as I rested my arms over his.

"I missed you," he replied as he started trailing kisses down my neck.

I tilted my head to the side to give him better access, though I said, "Don't start something you can't finish."

I felt a small laugh rumble in his chest. "Have you ever known finishing to be a problem of mine?"

I slapped his arm lightly. "You're bad."

He spun me around and lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my thighs. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he slipped his around my waist.

"Not bad for you." He said the words as a statement, but his eyes let me know that they were a question too. He was asking me, pleading with me, to tell him that he was good enough.

And just as I'd done every time he'd needed this reassurance from me over the past two months, I gave it willingly, knowing that I was the reason he needed it in the first place. I just hoped that, with time, I could relieve all of the hurt I'd caused him. "No, you're the very best thing for me." I leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

"I love you, doll."

"I love you too. Now let me off of this counter before I show you just how much," I said with a wink.

His hands clamped my hips roughly as he slid me hard against his waist, as if daring me to follow through with my threat. He stayed there for a moment, giving me access to the feel of his steadily growing erection. Finally, when he knew I’d been sufficiently teased, he backed up and I hopped down from my perch, missing the feel of him against me immediately. I was still amazed that I'd been able to ignore my feelings for so long because part of me had always known that no one fit me like Max did. We were two halves of the same coin, two adjoining pieces of the same puzzle. We just fit . . . in every way.

Max swatted my ass as I walked past him with the plate. He picked up the dessert dishes I'd retrieved before he'd come in and followed me out of the kitchen. "Just so you know," he said behind me as we approached our parents, "you will be showing me how much you love me as soon as we get home."

And I smiled. I almost corrected him, but decided against it. Instead, I'd spend the rest of my life showing him that I wasn't only interested in demonstrating my love in the privacy of our home. I wanted it to be on permanent display so the whole world knew that Max Samson was mine.

And I was his.

***

The rest of the night passed by smoothly, and we made our exit soon after my parents headed back to their hotel.

Normally Max never missed an opportunity to touch me in some way, no matter how small. But as the night had worn on, his touch was noticeably absent. And in the car, I couldn't help but notice the determination on his face, as if he were struggling with something. When I moved my hand to the center console to brush his, he jerked back before I made contact. That's when it dawned on me: the bastard was going to make me beg.

Max had perfected the art of driving me insane. Actually, I often thought he had been specifically built for that purpose alone. But this was a game that two could play.

When we arrived home, I followed him up the path to the front door. As he unlocked it, I pressed into him from behind, causing my chest to rest on his strong back.

He ceased all movement. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just a little cold," I replied, adding a shiver for good measure.

"It's August, doll." He turned slightly so he could see me.

I simply quirked an eyebrow at him in response. He finally opened the door, and as soon as we were inside, I started shedding clothes. It began innocently, me slipping off my red, peep-toe pumps one at a time and dropping them to the ground.