Ashley (Morning Dreamgirl)
I'm sending you that chocolate bar for posting a couple of hours earlier than normal.
Yay!
Besides I take forever to eat even one bar. I just break off small pieces every now and then. Or break it up in a glass jar. So if you see me throwing glass jars at you during any future cliffhangers don't just dodge them. If you catch them you might get a bribe to come back early.
And I'm the type that devours them in like 2 seconds. That's why I try and stay away from sugar. Far far away
But if you have some really dark chocolate, I'll (try) eat that slowly.
I thiiiink I'll still be running and ducking if I see glass jars flying through the air. That way, if they hit the ground (instead of me), they'll hopefully break and free their delicious goodiness...
I hope that she appreciates that Max didn't lie to her when she asked if he had slept with anyone before. He could have just told her no but he went a small step farther even though it made him uncomfortable.
He's trying to be as honest as he can on the parts of his life where he can be honest. He already feels like he has to hide so much from her - to keep her safe - even when he hates lying to her.
And though it was initially strange to think of Max doing anything with anyone else other than Liz (because of how much he's always loved her) at least it means he's able to (in some ways) guide them whenever she starts to feel unsure or nervous and anxious again.
Max is good at guiding *hint hint*
Liz does have a point though. They could be different. She's a Gaea-human and they've already bonded once. No one (that we know of) has been in the same position so the outcome as well as the actual process could end up being different than even what Max is expecting.
I think they might be talking about different things in this part of their discussion. Liz is mostly (except all the nervousness about sex) concerned about the
mental effects of having sex with Max. This includes both human and extraterrestrial factors, since it will in both ways change their relationship forever. While Max takes her very literally; as the physical act. Boys have a tendency to do so, don't they? And in Max's eyes there is nothing at all that could possibly go wrong when it comes to sex between him and Liz.
Hopefully he'll tell her exactly how a bond is formed during sex beforehand so that she's not questioning it the entire time in her mind.
Well, he might be otherwise distracted
But there's also the possibility that he himself doesn't know the finer points to exactly what happens during a sexual bonding. It's kinda like when human parents tell their children about sex, some details are left out. There might be some things Max has not been "taught".
Or maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe they should just "go with the flow"
He's really putting out there everything he feels for her. Just over 48 hours ago he let her in and showed her just how powerfully he loves her. Then, after his latest punishment is over, he tells her he loves her out loud followed by how much he wants her during their fight at school. Now he tells her that she's it for him. He might be silent on some things more than she would like but at least he's making progress in this area.
True
Very true.
I'm proud of Max for bringing up their fight. He could have tried to ignore it until she brought it up and then made excuses.
He didn't want them to be intimate without a clean slate (well, as clean as it can be in their situation). I guess it bothered him that she even for one second thought that he didn't want her.
But as you mentioned so wisely, Liz has always ignored and more or less avoided Max because he kinda freaked her out. This might be because her body was telling her that something was off about him, since he had actually been there for all of those memory wipes (even if he wasn't the "bad guy" in that scenario). So naturally Max has some rejection and insecurity issues when it comes to Liz.
I imagine Liz would miss his passionate outbreaks if they completely went away though.
She responds to him as much as he responds to her. And for the two of them their passionate fights are basically a form of foreplay.
Don't worry too much about that. Max will always be passionate when it comes to Liz. And Liz is not the quiet timid girl - which calls for some "explosions" along the way.
But for her to not be just as angry at Alex (for keeping yet another thing from her) in that moment seems a little unfair. Then again, Alex isn't the one in front of her so maybe that will come later.
Let's just say that she was kinda busy dealing with Max right then. And she was getting defensive, which made her strike at whoever was with her - Max. But also, we don't know how much Alex is responsible for or if he was just taking even more orders. Not just from the aliens, but also from Max
But let's presume, since he honestly cares about Liz, that he wasn't very hard to persuade.
Thank you very much for your insights
L-J-L 76
Will Max and Liz talk or be quiet in the on the way to Hondo? What will Max and Liz talk about?
The previous chapter contained their talk on the way to Hondo. By the end of that chapter, they had almost reached their destination. So this chapter will start at the house.
Is Maria and Jeff human or aliens?
Both Maria and Jeff are completely human.
Thank you for the feedback! And the bump
Helen (Roswelllostcause)
Now can they just complete the bond already?
*laughs* You're not accusing me of stalling, are you...?
I will be sure to pick Sean up once I get my ship up and running!
Good. I'm counting on you
Thank you for the feedback!
Natalie36 - Let's keep our fingers (and toes) crossed
Thank you
Eve (begonia9508)
In some way, I understand Liz's nervousness when its about Max's comments but she is sometimes unfair! There is also a lot of risikos for Max; he is betraying his people - even if what they had in mind for Liz is more than disgusting - even if he is sometimes awkward, he will only help her because he loves her!
It's a difficult spot for Liz to be in. She is constantly forced to re-evaluate her opinions of people. And the worst thing to her right now, were if Max would turn out to have used her. That's why she's reacting with all thorns outwards. She's trying to protect a battered heart. She is also struggling with trusting Max. Especially since she keeps on stumbling upon things he has kept from her. And she feels like she really needs to trust him in order to sleep with him. Since that act might very well change her life - and her relationship with Max - markedly.
But of course, then there's Max's side of the coin. He
is going behind the back of his people and playing a really dangerous game. And he's doing it mostly - maybe only - to save Liz. So I get why you get upset about Liz's comments and about her reactions, but remember that she's only known Max for a couple of weeks and in that time her mother has died at the hands of aliens, she has been assaulted by Sean and discovered that her memory has been repeatedly wiped during her whole existence. Plus, she is "forced" to rely on a person that she previously disliked and was even a bit scared of (Max) to "save" her. It's a pretty long shot and she has to be sure.
Thank you so much for your feedback!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7)
This is a long drawn out foreplay........
*laughs and looks a bit guilty* Yeah... I'm not very fast, am I? But since it's taken me about 45 chapters (almost 400 pages) to cover about two months of their lives, some more chapters before they actually get "down to business"
is not too unrealistic, right?
*coughs uncomfortably* Right?
But I agree when she said "let's just do it".
Now I hope they are hurrying to that house in Hondo.
I love the way you think. Let's hope for that
Thank you for the feedback!
mezz -
Thank you
From FORTY-FIVE:
”Where are we going?” I asked, my focus on the road. Excluding Max’s small ’break’ on the side of the road, we had been driving for almost half an hour now and I briefly wondered if he was kidnapping me - actually taking me underground like he had suggested just this morning.
”My parents own a house in Hondo,” Max replied and looked at me with darkening eyes. ”We’ll be alone there.”
And we were back to that. Immediately I was thrown back into the purpose of this whole car trip.
My breath trembled in my chest and I directed my eyes to the road, extremely aware of his lingering gaze on the side of my face as I licked my lips.
My nervousness had returned.
Alone. Alone in a house. With Max.
____________________________________
FORTY-SIX
Max placed the bag of groceries he had retrieved from the back of the car on the kitchen counter, dropping the house keys unceremoniously next to it, as I stood awkwardly just inside the front door - uncertain what to do with myself.
The house was big (of course), but in comparison to the mansion Max normally lived in, this house was small and quaint. It was decorated in a modern and minimalistic style, with sleek black counter tops, white walls and flooring, and cleanly cut furniture.
It was like stepping straight into a decorating magazine. It lacked warmth. With its bare and minimalistic style and a distinct lack of any personal touches the house felt a lot more alien than their home in Roswell, which had a lot more softening wooden features and antique furniture.
”Are you just gonna hang there by the door?” Max interrupted my scanning of the interior.
I gave him a brief smile and walked up to the counter. Thrumming my fingers distractedly against the surface of the counter, I watched Max pull food items out of the paper bag.
”Are you here a lot?” I asked conversationally.
He glanced at me before he turned to the cupboard and retrieved two wine glasses. ”Some periods I spend a lot of time here. We hold meetings here.”
We. As in aliens.
I was still trying to get my head around this whole alien concept. For some reason, it was not difficult to accept that Max was alien - that he was different. But I had a harder time accepting that there were more like him - many more. And that they were having organized meetings, like a regular community.
”As in town meetings?”
He grinned and took a wine bottle off the wall. ”Something like that.”
I nodded thoughtfully before I focused on what he was doing. My brows knitted together. ”What are you doing?”
”I’m making you dinner,” Max said simply, loudly scrunching up the paper bag and making a show out of throwing it in the garbage can, imitating a basketball player. Of course, he scored.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop my smile as I grumbled, ”Show-off…”
He winked at me before commencing the task of opening the wine bottle. ”You need to eat.” He looked at me as the cork popped loose, admonished concern in his eyes. ”Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t exactly been eating lately.”
I blushed and dropped my eyes in embarrassment. It was not like I had intentionally refrained from eating. My emotional nausea was making it really difficult. But I felt guilty when Max was looking at me like that.
”You’re not worried about me, are you?” I asked lightly.
”Constantly,” he mumbled and his tone was so serious that I had to look up, finding him looking at me closely.
My heart missed a beat and, on reflex, I crawled behind the facade of keeping the conversation light. ”Do you even know how to cook?”
His face broke into a smile.
How could he be so relaxed? So calm and collected? So beautiful?
”I make some mean pancakes,” he announced, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I laughed, climbing onto one of the bar stools positioned at the back of the kitchen island, facing the kitchen, and replied doubtfully, ”Uh-huh.”
He narrowed his eyes at me before focusing on pouring us white wine. ”You don’t believe me?”
”No no,” I objected quickly, happiness in my chest. ”I believe you.”
”Good,” he said, grabbed the foot of one of the wine glasses, walked around the counter, leaned in and gave me such a sweet and innocent kiss on the forehead that my heart possibly melted, before he transferred the wine glass to my hand, our hands brushing with electricity.
I looked up at him, working hard to keep my voice light as I questioned, ”Wine?”
That’s very grown-up of him.
”You need some help to relax,” he said with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
I pursed my lips in mock disapproval. ”You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?”
”Oh, Ms. Parker,” he mumbled, his voice lowering intimately as his eyes traveled to my lips, ”For what I’ve got planned, I want you very conscious and highly aware.”
My breath caught and I gulped, staring at him.
He pulled back, gave me another sexy wink and gestured towards the wine glass which was trembling forgotten in my hand. ”So not too much.” He reached over and rescued the wine glass from my trembles, setting it down on the table before looking back at me. ”And not too much on an empty stomach.”
I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile. ”Yes, sir.”
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turned his back to me and retrieved a plastic package from his pile of unpacked groceries. He threw the package on the counter in front of me with the command of, ”Eat.”
I pursed my lips as I eyed the package.
So bossy.
My eyebrows rose curiously as I grabbed the package to see what it contained, ”Cookies?”
”Yup,” Max said simply over the ruckus he was making while slamming with pots and bowls inside a kitchen drawer.
”So, cookies for starters,” I said slowly, ”and pancakes as the main course.” I looked at him amused. ”Interesting.”
He looked up from his search through the kitchen equipment, popped a plastic bowl onto the counter, and delivered that charming half-smile of his. When only one corner of his mouth would rise and there would be a charming self-consciousness and sheepishness in his eyes.
”Introducing the alien diet,” he announced and pulled out another drawer.
”Sugar?” I suggested questioningly.
That was unfair. I had seen his body (my smile momentarily froze at the memory of his white shivering naked body on an ice cold white floor) and it was not the body of someone whose diet was consisting predominately of carbohydrates.
He produced a ladle from the drawer, adding it to the empty bowl, and winked at me. ”I’m all for the sweetness.”
My face heated at the - not so well - hidden insinuation in his sentence and I shook my head in amusement.
”What?” he asked innocently while busying himself with adding flour and baking powder to the bowl.
”You,” I said slowly. ”I like you like this.”
He picked up the package of sugar and poured from it into the dry mixture. I grimaced at the amount. Those pancakes probably wouldn’t need any syrup or sugar on top…
”Like what?” he asked and reached for a pinch of salt.
”Happy,” I mused and his movements paused for a second, before he pretended to not have been affected by what I had said and mixed the dry ingredients together.
”It’s because I’m with you,” he said simply and I smiled, shaking my head again.
”No… You’re usually angry or annoyed when you’re with me. This… This is different.”
He looked up at me, ironically - considering what I had just accused him of - looking a bit annoyed, and protested, ”I’m not angry when I’m with you.”
I scoffed with amusement. ”Yes you are! You’re either scolding me or yelling at me.”
He frowned. ”No, I don’t.”
I laughed softly. ”You’re doing it now,” and added teasingly, ”You’re feeling it coming on right now, aren’t you?”
”Well,” he grumbled, momentarily turning his back on me to retrieve milk from the refrigerator. ”It’s only because being around you is very…” he paused, as if at a loss of the appropriate term, ”…
frustrating.”
I took a sip of my wine and looked at him over the rim of the wine glass. ”But that’s entirely your fault.”
He looked over his shoulder at me with an eyebrow raised in incredulity. ”It’s my fault that you’re frustrating?”
”Yes,” I said simply, stating a very obvious fact.
Closing the refrigerator door with his foot, milk carton in hand, he narrowed one disapproving eye at me while I hid my smile behind the wine glass, before he started whisking the milk into the pancake mixture. He refrained from answering, but I could tell from the relaxed stance of his body as he turned his back to me, while reaching out to turn on the stove, that he was not annoyed with my statement. He was only playing along.
”So,” I said, dragging the single syllable out while I placed the wine glass on the surface of the kitchen island and absent-mindedly dragged my finger along the rim. ”What’s Isabel like?”
He threw an amused expression over his shoulder at me, before closing the refrigerator door after having retrieved butter. ”You wanna talk about my sister now?”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. ”I don’t really know much about any of you.”
There was a moment of silence, before he answered, his back to me, ”She’s okay, I guess.”
My finger traced down the rounded curve of the wine glass, stopping short of reaching the top of the foot before heading back up again. ”Are you close?”
”I guess,” Max said, clicking some butter into the frying pan and turning around to face me. Leaning back against the counter, that amusement was still ingrained in his features as he asked, ”Did she say anything to you? I mean, besides basically telling you that having sex with me would solve all of your problems?”
I blushed and dropped my eyes, but something in the center of my body dared to ask, ”Won’t it?”
I heard his breath catch, before he laughed softly, ”I think you just raised the bar, Ms. Parker.”
I drowned my smile by bitting my bottom lip as I looked up at him. I swallowed and I wasn’t really sure how I found the nerve to say, ”My standards are very high, Mr. Evans.”
He pursed his lips, his eyes dancing with mirth and a touch of mischief. ”I know.”
I inhaled deeply, slowly, trying to break out of the spell that his eyes seemed to tangle me up in, licked my lips and cleared my throat. ”
Are you close?”
He looked at me silently for a second, before he pushed off the counter and turned towards the stove, to move the frying pan around, coating the frying surface with the melting butter. ”Yeah. You could say that.”
”Is there anyone else?” I asked tentatively. ”That you’re close to?”
And added silently,
Is there anyone else that you can talk to? That would help you out when your own race is torturing you?
He turned back to look at me, reaching out to take his own glass of wine and taking a slow sip, his eyes slowly tracing my face, down my throat, down my upper body.
My mouth went dry and I nervously grabbed my own wine glass, hoping that it might cool me off in the heat of his gaze.
”No,” he said shortly.
I frowned. No one? ”What about Michael?”
Max had already, in not so many words, described Michael as not being a friend of his. But they were always around each other. They must have some kind of relationship.
Max shook his head. ”Michael and I… We don’t really have that much in common.”
I searched his face, looking for sadness or regret at the lack of a meaningful relation between him and Michael, but Max seemed perfectly unaffected. Maybe he didn’t need a male friend.
”Don’t you want a guy to hang out with and do-,” I scrunched my nose as I searched for the phrase, ”-’guy things’ with?”
His eyes softened and warmed. Placing his glass on the counter, he crossed the space to the island, leaned over the counter and gently took one of my hands in his. Threading his fingers slowly with mine, causing a deep feeling of desire to weave through me as the sides of his fingers languidly slid against the sides of mine, he looked at me in that all-consuming way he did. ”Are you worried about my social network?”
I laughed nervously, trembling from the effect his proximity was having on me. ”Just curious.”
His facial features settled into contemplation as his eyes slowly traced every detail of my face and I felt my body temperature slowly rise with every silent second.
Then he leaned in closer, bringing his lips so close to mine that I could feel his breath caress my lips. My breath was fluttering like a restless butterfly in my chest as I challenged myself to meet his eyes.
”Relax,” he commanded quietly, the hint of a grin hiding in the corners of his perfectly shaped mouth.
”You’re making that kinda impossible,” I returned in a whisper.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth, and his fingers squeezed around mine. His eyes turned darker and I heard his breathing change before he looked back up at me. His voice shot straight to my most untouched parts as he murmured huskily, ”You’re irresistible.”
I bit my lower lip and he groaned at the act, the sound deliciously tightening my body. My voice was barely a breath as I said, ”Ditto.”
He took a deep breath and there was a palpable struggle in his eyes, before he pulled back and broke the spell. I became aware of the sound of warm butter popping in the frying pan as Max slowly pulled his hand away from mine, separating our fingers.
”You’re gonna be the death of me,” Max grumbled with a dark look as he turned towards the frying pan.
I focused on the general public’s usage of that phrase, rather than taking it literally.
With his back towards me, releasing me from his attention, a nervous breath flew through me and I unconsciously clenched my thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the ache which seemed to have become a permanent fixture in my body lately.
How was I going to make it through dinner without combusting?
Who needed food anyway? What was the purpose of prolonging the agony?
I could see what he was trying to do, however; trying to do this the right way and not rush things. To make me less nervous and more relaxed.
But it really wasn’t working. It was not a feeling of wanting to ’get it over with’, but a feeling of wanting to ’get under him’.
Heat scorched up my throat at the thought and I found myself tracing the lines of his back, down his nicely shaped behind. It sure was a shame that he was wearing clothes-
He turned around and I immediately dropped my head, diverted my eyes, feeling like I had been caught doing something very wrong.
And I was pretty sure that he got a sense of what I was doing the second he laid eyes on my bent down flushed face, because there was amusement in his voice as he said, ”I’m not hearing the beautiful crunching sound of you eating any cookies.”
Eat? Again, who could eat right now?
I looked up at him, starting to say, ”I’m not-” when the disapproving shake of his head interrupted me and he leaned forward to grab the (still) unopened bag of cookies in front of me.
Ripping it open (and I almost laughed at myself as I felt the heat in my body shoot up another notch as his biceps contracted with the motion (
Why was he so damn hot? ), he retrieved a chocolate chip cookie and offered it to me with a smooth wink.
It was as if he was offering something completely different than just a cookie.
Before I could put a damper on my own reactions, I inhaled sharply and quickly snagged the cookie out of his hand, ignoring the way my heart jumped a beat as the sensitive tips of my fingers brushed his.
He grinned before faking a stern look, saying, ”At least two, Miss.”
I rolled my eyes and took a bite out of the cookie, feeling crumbles linger on my lips as I started chewing. I automatically started to lick my lips to remove them when I glanced up and noticed Max’s heated eyes tracing my every move.
I froze in the line of his gaze before deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine. With a small smile teasing the edges of my mouth, I resumed licking my lips. This time slowly, making sure to trace my whole upper lip with just the tip of my tongue.
My breath was frozen in my chest as I watched him swallow slowly, his eyes widening.
Having removed all the crumbs, plus some imaginary ones for effect, a slow smile spread across my lips as I hitched my chin towards the stove. ”I think your pancake’s burning.”
”Huh?” he asked unintelligently, a trickle of confusion in his eyes.
”Your cooking needs your attention, chef,” I clarified and couldn’t help but laugh as his eyes widened with realization before spinning around with a curse and fumbling to get an appropriate grip on the spatula in his hand to flip the pancake over.
I happily finished the cookie, being pleased that I had managed to temporarily discombobulate the smooth Max Evans.
The delicious combination of crunchy cookie with embedded chocolate chips had ignited my dormant appetite and I naturally reached for a second cookie as Max busied himself with retrieving plates from the kitchen cabinet.
I finished chewing on a bite of the cookie and asked lightly, referring to the pancake, ”Did you save it?”
He snorted, shooting me an indignant look over his shoulder. ”It doesn’t need any healing.”
I laughed under my breath and shook my head. ”That’s a relief.”
Max removed the (probably) slightly burnt pancake from the frying pan and said quietly, ”I would rather not form a connection with a pancake.”
At the comical mental image that elicited, I inhaled too sharply, making some crumbles fall on the edge to my windpipe and I started coughing.
He was by my side in no time, worriedly brushing his warm hands up and down my back while I waved him off, coughing.
”You okay?”
I wordlessly tried to deflect his concern, while reaching for the wine glass.
”I’m getting you some water,” Max said quickly and left to search the cabinets for a glass.
As he returned, shaded in a cloak of concern, with a glass of water, my coughing had removed the crumbs from the wrong place and I was feeling embarrassed. My eyes were teary from the coughing when I, with a brief smile, accepted the glass of water.
He was looking at me closely, gently brushing his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear and letting the tips of his fingers flutter unconsciously, but enticingly, down the side of my neck.
”I’m okay,” I answered his unspoken question with a croak. I glanced up at him, took note of the lingering concern in his eyes, and added, ”No healing required.”
He remained quiet, his body tense as he searched my face, while I tried to distract myself from his gaze by emptying the glass of its contents.
As I placed the empty glass on the counter, he seemed to have reached the conclusion that the danger was averted and said quietly, ”Good.”
With a lingering look at me, he walked around the counter, grabbing the bag of cookies on the way, scrunching the opening up and unceremoniously throwing it into a cabinet.
I raised my eyebrows and asked innocently, ”No more cookies?”
”No more cookies,” he confirmed hard-set.
I squeezed my lips firmly together to prevent myself from laughing. Mr. Hybrid Alien was taking over-protectiveness to a whole new level.
For the next ten minutes, Max busied himself with getting the pancakes ready and repeatedly refused my offered help as he decked the table and even lit candles. Lastly, he took a bottle of maple syrup from the pantry in one hand before walking around the counter and gently taking my hand in his other.
I reached out and grabbed the foot of the almost finished wine glass as he laced our fingers together and gently guided me in the direction of the dining table.
He placed the bottle of golden sweet thick liquid on the table, before stepping around behind me, slowly brushing his front against my back (I shivered with delightful anticipation) as he crowded me to reach out and pull out the chair next to us.
He straightened up behind my still body, making me incredibly aware of his body as he pressed up against me, his lips brushing against the gentle curve between my neck and shoulder as he reached out and took the wine glass from my suddenly paralyzed hand.
His front seemed to mold with my back as he slightly bend us forward so that he could reach the table in order to set the glass down. His lips were lightly fluttering against my skin the whole time. When both of his hands were free, he circled his arms around my waist and pulled me back even tighter against his torso.
I wasn’t breathing. Couldn’t breathe. He placed a light kiss behind my ear as silence wrapped around us comfortably.
”Let’s eat,” he mumbled, causing vibrations to spread through my whole body.
What?
”What?” My mind had shut down. Effective immediately.
I heard the amusement in his voice as his husky voice clarified, ”Pancakes.”
”Oh.” I blushed and let the air flow back into my lungs as he loosened the grip on my heated body and let me take the provided seat.
I ran my hands over my warm cheeks and through my hair as he left me alone at the table for a second to turn off the ceiling light. The lit candles flickered in the small breeze stirred by Max’s movement as he took a seat next to me.
Not opposite me. But so close next to me that the side of his thigh brushed against mine.
He reached out and squeezed my hand briefly, before turning his attention to stacking pancakes on my plate.
”Um…” I watched the pile grow in front of me. He did know I was a girl, right? ”That’s…probably enough.”
”You need to eat,” Max said simply and added another pancake to the mountain on my plate, making it a total of six thick fluffy pancakes.
I looked at him incredulously. Did he really want me so full that I couldn’t move? Wouldn’t that be a major obstacle to his plan?
”Maybe I shouldn’t correct my food deficiency all in one night,” I said pointedly. ”Unless you want me unresponsive due to sugar coma…”
He met my eyes, the light from the lit candles casting incredible shadows over his face. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he next reached over and started to return the pancakes to the original serving plate, leaving only two pancakes on my own plate.
I bit my lip in amusement. Right. ”I guess that’s a ’no’.”
He chose to ignore my comment and instead reached for the maple syrup, inquiring, ”Liquid glucose?”
Remembering the amount of sugar he had added to the batter, I slowly shook my head. ”Um…. I think I’ll just taste them first.”
There was pure self-confidence in his smirk as he doused a generous amount of maple syrup on his own pile of pancakes. ”Trust me, they’ll be the best pancakes you’ll ever eat.”
”I guess you don’t get cavities,” I mumbled and pulled off a corner of the warm pancake with my fingers before popping it into my mouth.
Max shrugged, bumping his thigh teasingly against mine under the table, while he speared the top pancake with his fork. ”Perfect health.”
My eyes drifted closed as I chewed the small piece of pancake. Maybe it was just because I hadn’t really eaten much lately and that I was actually working up an appetite, or maybe Max’s pancakes were really heavenly, but a moan escaped me before I could stop it and I flushed while belatedly covering my mouth with my hand.
Embarrassed, I looked at Max. Of course he was grinning, happily munching away on his concoction of sugar products, and said around a mouthful, ”Good, huh?”
I rolled my eyes and admitted, ”Yeah.”
He held up the maple syrup again. ”Change your mind?”
The pancakes were really sweet though. Which was probably why they tasted fantastic. So I just shook my head. ”No, still fine.”
I rolled the pancake up and decided to eat it like a burrito, enjoying every bite, feeling comfort and happiness spreading through my body. My eyes were closed through most of it, but it didn’t shut out the suspicion that he was probably watching me the whole time.
Having devoured the first pancake in record time, I opened my eyes and met Max’s eyes. He didn’t even bother to pretend that he hadn’t been staring. With honest seriousness, and a touch of surprise, I said, ”These are actually very good, Max.”
He winked. ”Told you so.”
”Do you cook a lot at home?”
He huffed and stabbed the next pancake on his plate, which was already swimming in syrup. ”I wouldn’t necessarily call this cooking, but yeah-” he shrugged, ”-it happens.”
And he could cook. Probably.
Why was I not surprised?
He reached out and took my hand. I looked at our entwined hands, feeling the nervousness trickle up my arm.
Oh, the effect he had on me.
Whether he knew it or not, he had me completely at his mercy.
”The alcohol is not having its effect on you yet, is it?” he asked, almost tentatively.
”And what effect is that?” I asked him. On the contrary I was feeling a lot from the alcohol. There was an unfamiliar warmth in my body, a comfortable dizziness in my head and a modest relaxation of my body.
I frowned. On the other hand, maybe that was because of Max rather than the alcohol. I hadn't really had that much to drink.
There was a beat of silence before he replied, suddenly very serious, ”I won’t hurt you, Liz.”
My mouth suddenly felt dry and I whispered self-consciously, ”I know.”
”You have the power to stop this at any time,” he continued, his hold on my hand tightening.
I met his eyes straight on and was surprised by the touch of anger in my voice as I said, ”I have no intention of stopping this.”
Did he still assume that I didn’t want this? That my body wasn’t falling apart just from him holding my hand right then? That I wasn’t even sure if I would still be able to walk once I got up from my seat? That I wasn’t sweating for no particular reason and not having heart palpations even though my heart was medically sound?
”I want this,” I added, tracing the dilation of his pupils. ”I want
you.”
Like, right now.
He searched my face and opened his mouth to speak, when our bubble of privacy was interrupted by the sound of a car engine very close to the house.
TBC...
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And I'm just gonna run away and hide now...
