Page 48 of Until Delilah

Pulling away so Max can get back to the game and out of the spotlight, I stop when he calls my name. When I turn around, he’s right where I left him.

“I love you too, beauty.”

* * *

We decideto have a date at home instead of going out. I’m tired, and I want to spend as much alone time with Max as I can before my parents have to leave. They both have quite a few jobs they’ve already committed to, and we won’t see them for the next couple of months.

Max told me to go relax while he whipped us up some dinner, so I headed upstairs and soaked in his giant tub until I was pruny. Only then did I get out and get ready for our date. Whatever he’s cooking smells amazing from all the way upstairs and I can’t wait to taste it.

Slipping on a light dress, I twist my hair into a braid, put on some mascara and a coat of lip gloss, and I’m ready.

Stepping outside the bedroom, I see light flickering from downstairs. The smell of whatever he’s cooking hits me tenfold and my stomach growls, wanting whatever Max has made for us. As I walk down the stairs, I’m greeted by at least a hundred candles that are lit everywhere the eye can see.

Max hasn’t noticed me yet, too engrossed in stirring something in a saucepan on the stove. At least I thought he hadn’t, but when I’m only a few feet behind him, he extends his hand behind him. I take it. Feeling the rough pads on his fingers skate along my wrist as he pulls me against him. Flush to his back, I wrap my arms around him and lay my head between his shoulder blades.

Running my hands up from his abs to his pecs and back down again, I say. “Whatever you’re making smells mouthwatering. I already know I want seconds.”

“Good. I haven’t made this in so long I was afraid I’d mess it up. It’s almost done. I just have to add in the chicken and pasta to the sauce. Do you mind getting the bread out of the oven?” he asks as he moves to the side, so I can get into the oven.

“Not at all. You should have kept me down here to help instead of letting me indulge myself in a bath.”

Opening the oven, I pull out the garlic bread and set it on a placeholder already set out on the counter.

Max moves back and kisses the top of my head. “Nope, tonight is all about you. I want to make you feel good after being uncomfortable for hours today while you watched the kids play. I’m getting a cushion to use for next season. Maybe I’ll have some made for the team and we can sell them to all the parents.”

“That’s a perfect idea. We could even do t-shirts and hats,” I add. “Are you sad the season is over?”

“A little bit. It’s definitely shorter than I’m used to, but I’m thinking I’m going to see if the parents still want to have practice to keep the boys’ skills up; maybe twice a week until it gets too hot.”

“Afraid you’ll get bored?”

“I could never get bored with you and Beck around, but I would like to find something to fill my time. I’m thinking of helping out now and then with Mayson Construction if they need help.” He shrugs. “There’s plenty to keep me busy if you want me out of your hair.”

“Can’t say that I do, but I’ll let you know if I get tired of you.” I laugh. I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of being around him. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“Just sit your pretty ass down at the table and I’ll bring this over in just a minute.” He pours the chicken and pasta in with the sauce and stirs it.

“What are we eating?” I ask once I sit at the table. It’s then I notice a bouquet of flowers in the center of the table. There has to be at least two dozen roses. Max really went out of his way to make tonight about me when I should be making it about him.

“Chicken, pasta and mushrooms with a creamy Madeira sauce,” he answers as he brings the large skillet to the table and places it in the middle between two lit candles and the beautiful flower centerpiece. He walks back to the kitchen and grabs the garlic bread and some fresh parmesan cheese.

“I had no idea you have this kind of culinary skill. You’ve been holding out on me,” I joke as he serves us both the pasta.

“I didn’t want you staying only for my cooking.” He winks, putting a piece of garlic bread in each of our bowls.

“True.” I take a bite and moan around my fork. Only once I chew my bite do I speak. “If I’d known you could cook like this, I might have made you my slave.”

Covering my hand with his, he gives me a mischievous smile. “I’m already your slave, beauty. All you have to do is ask and I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And I like the sound of you eating my food. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to hold myself back from taking you right here on this table.” He reaches down and adjusts himself.

“Is dessert you?” I ask before taking another bite and moaning.

“All I know is I’m having you for dessert. I’m going to lay you out on this table, dive my face between your legs, and not come up until your hoarse from screaming my name.”

Yes, please.

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