After an endless pause, a tiny smile appeared. And something restless within me eased.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you. Hopefully, you won’t get bored.”
Bored? Never. And so goddamn polite when I knew just how she panted when I had my mouth on her—
“Logan?” Their father cocked a brow.
Hastily, I backtracked to the conversation. “When I met her, I didn’t know her name,” I admitted. “And she didn’t seem inclined to tell me straight away.” Ray choked on her laughter, and I knew why. But she didn’t know it was more so I could get under Logan’s skin. Though, now, it was who she was to me. I hid my smile and continued smoothly. “By the time I learned it, it was too late.”
Red spots of color darkened Logan’s cheeks. “Well, we met at an inconvenient moment,” she protested, “and I had other things on my mind.”
“Other things?” Ray gave into a howl of laughter. “I’m sure you did, sis. Come on, Max, help me with dessert. If I leave you here, Dad will dissect you.”
“As your father, I should demand you tell me what happened,” Mr. L said, “but, knowing you girls, it’s best I live in ignorance.” He pushed away from the table and started to clear it, surprising me. My father’s army of servants would probably fall on their asses if he so much as lifted a glass.
As if in tandem, Logan and Ray got up and helped him.
Their mother rose and swayed. She grasped the edge of the table. Mr. L dropped the plates in a clatter and swept her into his arms, pulling a startled laugh from her. “I’m fine, Seanie, you don’t have to hover.”
“Maya, love, I will ‘hover’ as you so nicely put it until the day I breathe my last.” He pressed his lips to her crown and crossed to the living room, settling his wife on the armchair. Something about their display of affection had my chest tightening.
Logan disappeared from the room and then reappeared with a cup of tea and a small plastic container. A “D” written with a Sharpie on the lid. She set the tea on a side table then uncapped the box. D…dinner. There were several tablets and capsules of varying sizes in there. “Here, Mom.”
“Thanks, darling.”
While Logan and her father tended to Mrs. L, I helped Ray clean up and realized that this was the first time I had sat for any meal with a family who actuallylikedbeing with each other.
In spite of Mrs. L’s sickness, there was genuine laughter, love, and teasing between them, something my family sorely lacked even when my mother was alive. And I was like the arid lands of the Sahara, lapping up the outpouring of warmth and love.
Ila
The dishwasher packed, I switched it on and then soaked the glasses in soapy water. As I turned for more, I bumped into a hard, warm body.
“Jesus, Max!” I reared back, pressing a hand to my racing heart as he deposited the used glasses on the table behind me. “You scared the heck out of me. I thought you’d be with my dad, catching a game or something.”
His bisected eyebrow rose, green eyes caressing my face. He stepped closer. “Why? You’re in here.”
God. I leaned my forehead against his chest for a tormenting second. His strong arms came around me. Supportive. Steadying. He pressed a kiss to my head and stroked my back. My breathing quickened, taking me back to two nights ago, and how he’d used his wonderful mouth and fingers on me while Ray was in the shower. If he touched me now, chances were I wouldn’t care where I was.
Ray’s laughter drifted to me. Sanity prevailed. I cast a quick glance at the doorway, and Max’s hands tightened on my hips.
“Max, don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he whispered, sliding his lips along my jaw. He nipped my earlobe. “Don’t look at you like I want my mouth back between your thighs? Don’t look at you like I want to hear those soft moans you make while I lick and suck that delectable part of you? Don’t—”
“Shh!” I slapped my wet hand over his mouth, my face scorching hot and my insides trembling with need at what he promised, knowing he’d deliver.
Kissing my damp palm, amusement tugging his mouth, Max swiped a dishtowel and started drying. “You’re beautiful when you blush, you know that?”
Jeez. I splashed soapy water at him. He glanced at his damp t-shirt then back at me, said nothing, but the look in his eyes promised retribution, one my body waited for in anticipation.
“So what does ‘yaar’ mean?” he asked, setting a dried glass on the counter.
I wrinkled my nose. Yeah, he would catch that. “The way my mom said it meansman, buddy—as in ‘ohman, you’re full of—’ well you get the picture.”
“Should I be scared if you use that word on me?” he teased.
I laughed. “Very. You should hide… I’m sorry about all the questions my mom laid on you.”
