Friend Zoned: Sugar Rush Part 35

Together.

My playful mood is gone with the use of that one word.

How long will we be together?

We arrive at the restaurant and Max manages a parking spot right out front. He warned me it wouldn't be fancy, but I didn't expect this. My mood picks up as he opens the pa.s.senger door for me like a gentleman. I ask in surprise, "Mexican?"

He shrugs, and I could be wrong, but I swear he blushes. "I wanted to take you someplace I love." He stills. "You do like Mexican, right?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't think you should've asked that beforehand?"

His face falls dramatically before he lifts a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. "f.u.c.k, Lena. I'm so sor-"

"I love Mexican," I chuckle then tease, "dumba.s.s."

He breathes deep then lets out a long exhale. I take his hand, still chuckling, and he shoots daggers at me. He walks by my side, imitating me in a ridiculously high-pitched voice. "I love Mexican, dumba.s.s." His voice turns normal again and he mutters a low, "I would remind you that as soon as we leave, your a.s.s is mine. I'd remember that if I were you."

I round my mouth in mock-horror and stand on the spot, shaking my legs with enthusiasm. "Oh no. The bad man's gonna get me."

His palm connects with my a.s.s hard, ripping a shocked yelp from my throat. He stands toe-to-toe with me, looking down into my face. "How'd you like that?"

I swallow hard and my nethers tingle. Honesty is the best policy, I've always said (when it suits me, of course). I respond a hushed, "I liked it enough to want to push my luck again, and again, and again."

He lowers a hand to my collarbone, stroking his thumb over the sensitive skin there. His mouth hovers over mine. "Stop it."

I run my bottom lip across his and mutter, "Stop what?"

He kisses me hard on the mouth. Pulling back a hairs-breadth, he bites my bottom lip, gently tugging at it before responding, "Stop being s.e.xy."

My grin is small, but it's there. "Sorry, but you started it."

He returns, "You started it."

I scoff, "You so totally started it!"

He mock-glares at me. "Real mature, Lena." We walk hand-in-hand, grinning like a couple of fools. He holds open the door for me, and as I walk into the restaurant, he whispers by my ear, "You started it," and I burst into laughter. I love this silly side of Max.

We're shown to our table in this quaint restaurant, and although it's small, it's beautifully decorated with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths, stools instead of chairs, and candles on the tables. It makes for an intimate setting, and I secretly love that Max brought me here and not some fancy restaurant where the meals are served on plates the size of car tires with meals the size of my palm. When the server arrives by our table, Max looks over at me and asks, "Mind if I order?"

I smile sweetly. "Not if you know what's good."

He grins at me. "I know what's good, baby."

I reach for my gla.s.s of water and sip, when a soft voice by the side of the table utters, "Max?"

Max and I both look up at the server, but Max is the only one who pales. "Oh, um, hey, Kate. How you doin'?"

Kate, the young Hispanic-looking server with olive skin, long black curls, and soft eyes responds in a hurt tone, "You never called."

My eyes leave the server, and wide-eyed, I turn to stare at Max. "You have got to be kidding me right now, Max." Did he seriously bring me to a restaurant where he shtupped one of the wait staff?

But Max blinks up at Kate, silently cursing her before stating the obvious. "I'm on a date here, Kate."

Kate turns to me still looking hurt, and I feel for her. I know what it's like to be rejected by Max. It seriously blows. With a sigh, I tell her, "Honey, trust me. He's completely oblivious when it comes to the opposite s.e.x. You need neon signs and flas.h.i.+ng lights for this one."

Max utters an offended, "Hey," while Kate smiles and admits, "I thought it was just me."

I shake my head. "Nope. It's all him. Believe me."

Max repeats his insulted, "Hey!"

I'm curious now. I jerk my chin up at her. "What did he do?"

Max starts, "I don't think we need to be discussing tha-"

But Kate cuts him off. "He took me out for lunch and we made out." She turns to look down at him, placing a hand on her hip. "Never to be seen again."

Max squirms in his chair, then forces a laugh. "Kate, babe, it was just a kiss."

Well, I hate to admit it, but I'm glad he hasn't f.u.c.ked her. But still. I shake my head at him. "Oh, Max. You're such a t.u.r.d."

Kate jerks her chin at me, mirroring my previous gesture. "You his girl?"

Max tries to break into the conversation with, "So this is kind of funny, right?" but as we speak over him, he fades out and continues to squirm.

I sigh dramatically. "Sadly, yes."

Her eyes narrow at me before she declares, "I like you. You're getting the house nachos on the house."

Smiling at her, I reach out to her. "I'm Helena. Sorry Max is a big, stupid baby."

She grins, taking my hand. "Kate. Nice to meet you, and don't worry about it." She glances at him before whispering, "He's kind of flighty."

Max is one of the most reliable men I know. He's not flighty at all, but I know what she's doing, so I don't correct her. Instead, I play along. I wink at her. "You're lucky you got away when you did."

She chuckles, then steps away. "I'll be right back."

As she does, I smile over at Max. "I like her."

He stares me down, clearly not amused. "Glad I could make introductions. I'm sure you'll be best friends forever."

Silently gloating in his discomfort, I reach across the table and s.n.a.t.c.h up a handful of corn chips, crunching away through a sly smirk. Mouth semi-full, I speak around my chips, "C'mon, Max. Admit it. It's kinda funny."

Kate returns with a plate full of nachos, piled with ground beef, oozing cheese, and chopped tomatoes. It looks amazing, and the smell of the spices has me salivating. She places it down in front of me with a smile. "Enjoy. Call me when you're ready to order."

Max starts, "We're ready to-" And I laugh as she turns, swis.h.i.+ng her hair, and walks away, obviously ignoring him. Max eyes my plate, licking his lips. "Can I get in on that?"

Lifting a corn chip stacked with goodies, I shake my head. "Nope. Consider it your punishment," I tease, then I shove it in my mouth.

A pathetic look crosses Max's face. He rubs absently at his belly. "But I'm hungry."

Adorable.

No. Scratch that.

Adorably pathetic.

I reach across the small table to cup his pathetic cheek. He leans into my touch and I purse my lips, muttering, "Nawww, my big, stupid baby." He pouts, nodding in agreement, and although this is the worst date I've ever been on in my life, I'm having so much fun. And I don't know why! Something pushes that thought to air. I tell him, "This has been the worst date ever," but I do it with a smile. A real smile.

Max leans further into my cheek, eyes apologetic, and mouths, "Sorry."

Pulling my hand away, I admit, "But I'm having so much fun," I throw him a shy smile, "with you."

He smiles then, his billion-dollar, GQ magazine smile. "Naw, shucks, lady." But his smile falters. "You sure you're not p.i.s.sed about that girl?"

"Am I going home with you tonight?" I ask.

His brows narrow. "d.a.m.n straight."

I shrug. "Then I don't care." Smiling, I nibble at a corn chip. "I win."

Something about my answer affects him, and I'm not sure how to read it. His eyes widen a little before they hood. He looks to be biting the inside of his cheek, as if trying to keep his mouth shut. Shaking his head, he mutters, "You are somethin' else."

When Kate returns, she takes our order from Max, glowering at him the entire time, but sparing a sweet smile for me as she leaves. She brings our meals and places the plates down in front of me gently, using as much care as possible, but when she places plates down in front of Max, she releases them an inch above the table, making them clash and clatter before turning and swis.h.i.+ng her hair as she walks away. And I chuckle to myself. He must've really p.i.s.sed her off. Meh. Serves him right.

I place the nachos in the middle of the table and reach over to his plate to s.n.a.t.c.h one of the most perfect looking chicken enchiladas I have ever seen. Max watches in shock as I steal from his plate. Bunching his nose, he reaches over to my plate and steals one of my steak fajitas in retaliation.

I smile over at him and wink. Little does he know, I am not Nat. Sharing food makes me happy. Nat would cut a b.i.t.c.h for stealing off her plate. I cut a piece of enchilada and pop it into my mouth. The fresh, spiced flavor is amazing. I moan and close my eyes. It's only when my eyes flutter open that I realize Max is talking.

"I'm sorry. What?"

He grins. "I asked you if you left a guy back home."

He's asking me if I had a boyfriend back home? Why the sudden interest? Don't read too much into it, numbskull. Shaking my head slowly, I cut at the enchilada for a second bite. "No. I didn't have time to date back home, and I never planned on dating here. I suppose I could have dated back home, but then where would that leave the guy? Probably in a corner." Like Baby in Dirty Dancing. "My job comes first, and as long as I'm building up my hours, I think it would be unfair to commit to someone, knowing they'd have little to no time with me."

Max looks down at his plate, confusion written all over his face. I ask a long, drawn out, "What?"

Lifting his face, brows still furrowed, he replies softly, "I think whatever amount of your time you could give a guy, he'd be grateful for." He holds my eyes. "He'd be a lucky man to have you, cupcake. Even for a minute."

Oh s.h.i.+t. That was deep and sweet and freaking adorable. My heart pounds in time with my head. I'm in trouble. Stop it, Max! I'm not meant to love you!

If he's venturing into deep water, I feel as I thought I should be meeting him halfway. "Tell me about Ceecee's mom."

He immediately stiffens. "No."

My brows rise at the hatred in his voice. "Uh, okay."

We eat in silence for a little while as I give him the few minutes to calm down before I notice him deflate. His shoulders slump and jaw tight, he mutters, "Sorry. She's a sore subject."

I nod. "Understandable." The silence between us is so thick it's becoming awkward. And I've not had an awkward moment with Max since we've been dating. I don't like it. Reaching over the table, I rest my hand on his forearm. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. But if you need someone to talk to, I'm here with open ears."

His eyes dart from the hand on his arm then up to my face, searching. He looks suspiciously toward me. "That's it? No 'I asked you, so you gotta tell me' or 'Fine, we're done' bulls.h.i.+t?"

I'm sure the expression on my face screams affronted. "I prefer you happy, and I can see talking about this is having the opposite effect. So, no."

His eyes close, once again pained as he mutters under his breath. "She prefers me happy. She cancels her own surprise for wheelchair basketball. She doesn't care about the waitress." He lifts his eyes heavenward. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Um, okay then. "What are you talking about?"

Max smiles. It's forced. I know this, because it doesn't reach his eyes. "Nothing." He holds out a hand and I place my own in it. He lifts it to his mouth and kisses it. "Just glad I'm here. With you." He kisses my knuckles a second time. "No place I'd rather be."

I smile softly. "Ditto."

Dinner only gets better from that point. Max and I eat, talk, and laugh most of the night, and when it comes time to leave, he leaves a more than decent tip for poor, sweet Kate. I'd like to say my sympathy runs deep, but I'd be lying. I am more than happy to be the one going home with Max. Ecstatic, really.

Like a gentleman, he opens the car door for me and sees me inside. We drive back to my apartment, and from the moment we step outside of the car, we can't keep our hands off of each other. Reaching up, he hooks a hand behind my neck, pulling me closer, and then his lips come down to mine.

And I melt into him. The kiss is deep and sweet. My knees turn to jelly and my core clenches tighter than ever. His lips are soft, softer than I imagined, and the smell of his cologne makes my head swim.

My mouth waters. G.o.d, he's delicious.

A total DILF.

We can't keep our lips to ourselves the entire way upstairs. When we reach my apartment, I unlock the door, lips firmly attached to his, and we step inside, closing the door behind us. His arms wind around me, holding me tight, leading me toward my bedroom, when something comes to mind.

Separating from him, I step back, delighted in the small growl that escapes him. I walk backward to the kitchen, unb.u.t.toning my jeans as I do, smiling s.e.xily. I slowly lower my zipper, hook my thumbs into the waistband, and push my jeans down my legs. Stepping out of them, I move to the counter.

I see the exact moment he understands. Fire lights in his eyes, and suddenly, he rips at his clothes. I chuckle softly as he fights with his belt buckle. In the sudden excitement, he's become clumsy. He kicks his shoes off, leaning down and hopping on the spot to remove his socks. He lowers his jeans halfway, then takes a step, tripping over them. He rights himself, pulling his s.h.i.+rt over his head, forgetting the b.u.t.tons and having it get stuck around his neck. He pulls, tugs, and yanks until he's finally free and nearly naked.

My silky tan tank is easily removed, and then I'm only in my cream lace bra and matching French-cut panties. Which is fine, because Max is dressed only in black and white checkered boxers. He palms his erection as he walks over to me. Eyes hooded with l.u.s.t, he admits, "I don't think I can hold back."

Reaching behind me, I undo my bra, letting it fall down my arms. "I don't want you to."

He squeezes his c.o.c.k tight through his boxers. "It might be rough."

Making a show of it, I slide my panties down my thighs, letting them go at the knee. They fall to the ground. "I love rough."

He eyes my body appreciatively, then mutters unconsciously, "You make me crazy."

I love the way he looks at me. "You make my body burn."

One more step and he's in front of me, looking down at me. He leans down, pus.h.i.+ng my back into the side of the counter, and takes my lips in a feral kiss before spinning me around and pus.h.i.+ng his front into my back. The hard warmth of his body gives me goose b.u.mps. Reaching around, he takes my hands and places them on the counter. "Don't move."

My stomach clenches. Oh my. Gentle hands roam my body and I ache. One hand squeezes my nape in such a dominant way I press my thighs together and bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. The other hand caresses my shoulders, back, lower still, the curve of my a.s.s, squeezing gently before he steps back.

I fight a mewl. His fingertips graze the skin of my bottom a moment before he slides them down between my legs.

Eeeek! Yay!