The Perception Read online

  I lifted my eyes to his, the greens blazing. I loved this side of him, the side that took control. The Max that didn’t let me make decisions, didn’t let me dig too far inside my head.

  “Well, if you don’t, then I guess I’ll just make myself come,” I taunted, watching his eyes darken.

  “Don’t get too big for your britches.”

  I tried to move my fingers beneath his hand, raising an eyebrow in challenge. He lifted my hand and dropped it unceremoniously on the bed next to me; I tried not to smile in response.

  “I have one, but don’t touch yourself. Hear me?” He looked at me sternly, all Alpha male, until I raised my hands over my head. Satisfied, he grabbed my panties and pulled them slowly down my legs, tossing them on the floor. He walked to his nightstand and didn’t say a word as he rolled the protection down his length.

  He climbed back on the bed, hovering over me. I ran my hands down his back, his muscles flexing against my touch, turning me on even more.

  “I want to be right here when I go inside you,” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “I want to see the pleasure on your face and hear the little noises you make. I love watching you respond to me.” He pressed his lips softly to mine. “I love making you feel good.”

  I could feel him at my opening. Just as I registered it, he pushed his way inside, parting me in one heavy move. The feeling of being empty to being completely full in one second was overwhelming. I moaned as I relished the feeling of being stretched and then the sensation of him pulling back out and then pressing into me again.

  “Max,” I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head.

  He thrust into me again, wrapping one hand through my hair and placing his other arm under my neck, holding me still. I wrapped my legs around his waist as we found a delicious rhythm. He lowered his face the remaining distance and kissed me, his mouth soft and delicate, a fierce opposition to the hard and bold movement below. His cock built me up physically, bringing me closer to an orgasm with every thrust. His tongue parted my lips and worshipped me, licking and sucking and causing all of my senses to misfire.

  I tightened my legs, feeling the rise and then the explosion. I broke the kiss and yelled, my orgasm hitting me hard. I shook from the force, too overwhelmed by bliss to care that Max was watching my reaction. He continued to stroke in and out, milking my climax for all it was worth.

  I opened my eyes, my lids heavy, to see him smiling.

  “Was that as good as it looked?” he asked, a smirk planted across his gorgeous face.

  I let my eyes adjust back to the light, my body tingling with the aftershocks. “I don’t know what it looked like, but it felt amazing.”

  “I could watch it over and over again,” he whispered. “That one, sweetheart, was for me. This one is for you.”

  My belly clenched as he pulled out and flipped me onto my stomach in an instant. He grabbed my legs and jerked my feet to the floor, slamming into me before I knew what was happening. He grabbed a mess of my hair, pushing my head down into the bed.

  “Damn it,” he groaned, smashing his body into mine.

  I felt my own wetness slide down my legs as he built me up again. I dug my hands into the blankets, knowing that the orgasm coming would be one I needed to hold on for. I always came better this way. It was less personal, less attached. It was fucking at its simplest and what this relationship with Max was supposed to be.

  Carnal. Raw. Hedonistic.

  He drove into me, attuned, as always, to my body. I braced myself as I hit the peak and toppled over the edge. “Max!” I yelled, pressing myself back against his cock.

  He grabbed ahold of my hips to keep me in place. He buried himself inside me and held me down as he released himself, a growl escaping the back of his throat.

  I barely registered the sound, but the vibrations of his voice pulled at my core like they always did. It was the low, sexy timbre that caught my attention the first time. But it sure as hell isn’t what kept it.

  I lay lifelessly against the sheets as he pulled out. The bed shifted as Max got up. I heard him rummaging around the room, the door opening and Titus running down the hallway. Before I knew it, Max picked me up, cradling me in his arms, and climbed across the bed. He lay me against the pillows and stretched out beside me, pulling the blanket across our bodies.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, fully spent. He pulled me against his side, tucking me up against him like he did every night, and kissed the top of my head. As I dozed off, I heard him whisper, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  KARI

  The room was cool and dark, the only sound was the whirring of the ceiling fan. When I had first stayed overnight with Max, I hated the sound and the feel of the moving air while I slept. He, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep without it and now I even turned it on the few nights when I was home in bed alone.

  I lay still and closed my eyes, hoping that I could fall back asleep. I tried counting sheep and my blessings, but neither relaxed me. When the sun went down, my mind turned on and reminded me of everything that had gone wrong in my life; sleep was a sort of Purgatory.

  Max was sleeping on his stomach, his right arm draped across me. The white sheets were bunched at his waist and his back was on full display, inviting me to touch. My fingers itched to trace the compass tattoo on his shoulder. It was his favorite of all of his art and my favorite, too. I loved the arrows in the dial. They reminded me of the arrow on my wrist.

  I reached out to touch it, but he rolled onto his side facing away from me. I waited until his breathing evened out and then pulled back the blankets and made my way to the kitchen, Titus following me.

  I flipped on the light. I poured the puppy a little bowl of kibble and then went about making a cup of coffee. Max had bought a Keurig after I made a comment about making a whole pot just for me since he didn’t drink it.

  “Why did you buy this? What if I never come over here again? It’ll be a total waste,” I asked him, half kidding and half not.

  “Oh, you’re comin’ over here again. And you’re comin’ again. And again,” he had grinned, pulling me in close and silencing any objections with kisses.

  I pulled my mug off the console and sat down at the table, kicking my feet up on another chair. I looked around the room, seeing my touches on everything. A few months before, the refrigerator had broken and I had picked out the replacement. I’m not sure why I spent an entire day looking at models because its doors were covered in Max’s trademark sticky notes. There were notes about meal plans to maintain muscle mass, notes about meetings, and notes from the two of us to each other just because.

  The red Solo cup by the sink had my wine glass beside it. His keys sat on the counter next to the candle I had picked up at the grocery store.

  My eyes wandered to the box Jada had given me sitting on the counter. I stupidly forgot to put it away when we arrived home the night before. I eyed it like it might jump off and bite me because, truth be told, it definitely had the power to inflict pain. Slowly, I got up and walked over to it. I picked it up and carried it back to the table and took my seat.

  I lifted the lid, seeing the cassette tapes Jada had mentioned sitting on top. I couldn’t help but smile as I picked them up, reading the labels in bright pink ink in my teenage handwriting, before laying them beside the box. Beneath them was a turquoise and white silk handkerchief that had been my grandmother’s. Our mom let Jada and I choose one thing when her mother died years before. I always remembered Grandmother having a hankie in her pocket and I wanted one of those. They were delicate, yet strong, just like her. It was sort of token as to what I hoped I’d be someday. I held it to my face and breathed it in, trying to find the smell of her. The years had sadly erased the floral scent that never failed to take me back to her bedroom vanity and the pretty little bottles that used to sit beneath her mirror.

  I sat it off to the side and continued through the box, finding old notes from friends folded into mini-envelopes, Valentine’s Day cards f
rom random people, and a picture of Jada, Dad, and me at the Grand Canyon.

  My heartbeat picked up, my hands beginning to tremble, as I took out the contents piece by piece. I knew what lay at the bottom and I felt pulled to it like I hadn’t in a very long time.

  Breathe, Kari.

  I lifted a delicate gold chain from the box, holding it in the air. A small purple orchid dangled from it. I touched it, spinning it in circles as my mind fluttered to a different time and place.

  I held the chain in my hand, my palm sweaty with apprehension. I pushed open the doors, much heavier than they looked, and breathed in the smell of sanitizer. I asked for Jett, the artist I had made the appointment with. A few minutes later, he came around the corner, his kind smile a contrast to his dangerous appearance.

  “Kari, right?”

  I nodded nervously.

  “Follow me.”

  We walked through the studio, the sound of instruments humming and music playing lowly through a set of speakers I couldn’t see. I clasped my fingers around the necklace and held it against my stomach.

  “What are we doing today? The orchid we talked about?”

  I nodded again, knowing I needed to speak but my mouth seemed too dry. From the moment I knew how things were going to end, I knew I wanted something to symbolize what was, what had been, and what would always be a part of me; the orchid was the first thing that crossed my mind and the only thing that ever felt right. But standing in front of Jett, I suddenly felt like passing out. Not as much from the physical pain that would surely be inflicted in a matter of minutes, but more from the emotional pain that would undoubtedly rise with it.

  I touched the ink on my hip instinctively. The orchid was the symbol my mother had worn around her neck for the date of my birth. I wanted something to honor what the month of October should have meant to me in the same way. If only things hadn’t gone wrong.

  I gazed back inside the box to the wrinkled sheet of paper. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, balled up and then pressed back out more than once. Tears stained the ink, the blue writing faded in the spots where my sadness had spilled over my lids and onto the words.

  I didn’t touch it. I didn’t have to read it to know what it said. I’d read and re-read it so many times, usually in the middle of the night when my soul hurt so badly that I needed some sort of connection to the person I was before. Sadly or strangely, maybe both, I found it in a letter that was never sent and a picture that was placed carefully beneath it.

  Movement in the doorway caught my attention and pulled me back from the trip down memory lane. Max was watching me, his arms stretched overhead and grasping the doorframe. His hair was a mess, his chest and feet bare.

  “What ‘cha doing up so early?” he asked, yawning.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  He padded his way across the tile and stood next to me. He bent down and kissed the top of my head. “What’s all this?”

  I let the necklace collapse into my hand. “A box of things I’ve kept over the years. It got mixed with Jada’s stuff somehow. She gave it back to me last night.

  Max picked up one of the tapes. “Mix Up Radio?”

  “Didn’t you record stuff off the radio when you were a kid?”

  “Uh, no, sweetheart. I didn’t,” he laughed.

  “Well, every girl my age did that at some point. You’d listen to the radio and have your cassette in your tape player, ready to go. When a song would come on that you loved, you’d click the record button. Then you’d have a tape full of your favorite songs.”

  “How resourceful.”

  I laughed.

  “So what would be on here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Boys II Men, probably. TLC. Maybe some Salt N Pepa if we’re lucky.”

  “No George Strait?” he asked, wincing.

  “George Michael, possibly.”

  He sat the tape back on the table. “What else is in here?”

  I scrambled to put the tapes and hankie back in the box, covering the things below. “Nothing, really. I was just trying to keep busy and not wake you up.” I closed the lid, earning a puzzled look from Max. “Want some hot chocolate?” I asked, trying to take the attention off me and the box.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll grab some tea.”

  “Have you made anything in the Keurig yet?”

  “Of course,” he laughed. “All the damn time.”

  “Sure you have.” I realized that the necklace was still in my hand. I studied it a little longer. The purple had begun to fade around the edges of the metal.

  Max touched the chain in my hand. “What’s this?”

  “This was my mother’s necklace. My father gave it to her the day I was born. It’s an orchid, the flower of the month for October.”

  His eyes softened and he pulled me into his side. “For your birthday, October 1st,” he said, thinking he had it all figured out. “It’s very pretty. I bet she loved it.”

  “She always wore it. And she had a bracelet for March that he got her when Jada was born.” I forced a swallow. “Dad got her a ring with a lily for the baby she was carrying when she died. He buried her with it.”

  Max kissed the top of my head, letting me have a moment to get myself together.

  “I could never wear this, but having it means a lot to me. Just knowing that she wore it and thought of me and now I look at it and think of her . . .” I blushed. “That sounded dumb, didn’t it?”

  “Nah, sweetheart, it didn’t. And it explains the orchid tattoo on your hip. I never knew that it meant something like that to you.”

  If he only knew . . .

  I lifted the lid to the box again and sat the necklace back inside before closing it. “This is a little too much for six in the morning.”

  He brought his forehead down to mine. “She’d be proud of you, ya know.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Oh, I know so. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.”

  KARI

  “This is it,” Max said a few hours later, nodding towards a house in front of us.

  We pulled into the driveway of Max’s cousin’s house. He’d just moved back to town and he and his wife had invited us over for dinner. I was a bit nervous; it always made me anxious to meet Max’s family. It was the natural progression of things for most relationships, a step to more, which was why I felt like I was walking the plank every time another Quinn or family friend was introduced.

  “When was the last time you saw Pierce?” I asked Max. We climbed out of his truck in front of a quaint stucco house with a red tile roof. The breeze was warm and purplish bougainvillea leaves were scattered across the driveway and a stone pathway leading to the front door.

  Max met me at the front of the truck and immediately grabbed my hand, rubbing his thumb across my palm. “I saw him a few days this past summer. But before then? Hell, I don’t remember. He must’ve moved to Texas five, six years ago or somethin’? I went out there once a while back . . .” He grinned to himself at some memory he didn’t share.

  “He’s married, right?” I asked, chewing a fingernail on my free hand.

  “Yeah. He met Isabella in Texas. She’s really sweet. You’ll love her.”

  The door in front of us flew open and a man immediately grabbed ahold of Max. “Maxie! Damn, buddy! It’s good to see ya!” They shook hands and smiled at each other, exchanging greetings while I took it all in.

  The man, who I presumed to be Pierce, reminded me a lot of Max. He had the same dark hair and tall frame, although not as built. His face was softer than Max’s and his eyes a sparkling blue instead of Max’s wild green.

  “It’s good to see you, man,” Max said. He turned towards me. “Kari, this is my cousin, Pierce. Pierce, this is Kari.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Pierce said, wrapping me in a big hug. I looked at Max, causing him to laugh. The Quinn’s were apparently huggers all-around.

  Max took my hand again and led me in
to the house behind Pierce. It was a typical tract home with high ceilings and fresh white paint. There were boxes lining the hallway to our left. Family pictures hung on the walls and were sitting along nearly every flat surface. A playpen was in the middle of the floor, loaded with pink toys.

  “Pierce! Is that Max?” a woman’s voice shouted from another room.

  “Yeah, babe.”

  “Isa has been waiting for you. She made you tamales,” Pierce said, leading us to the kitchen.

  “She didn’t have to do that,” Max grinned. I could tell he clearly loved that she had.

  We entered an eat-in kitchen that was open to a small family room. A short, dark haired woman was standing in the kitchen, holding a baby. She was absolutely gorgeous with dark eyes and a smile that would light up a room. She looked exotic, yet approachable, and I knew she turned heads wherever she went.

  “Look, Jos! It’s Uncle Max!” Isa said to the baby on her hip.

  “Isabella, you get more beautiful every time I see you.” Max kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, Joselyn! Remember me?” He patted the baby’s head much in the same way he did Titus and it made me and the baby coo.

  “Come here.” He looked briefly to Isa before taking the baby, earning a squeal from the child. She immediately reached for his hat and removed it from his head.

  “Hat,” she said clearly.

  “Yes. Hat. And you shouldn’t take a man’s hat, Miss. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

  “Pretty,” she repeated, making everyone laugh.

  “Isa, I would like you to meet my Kari. Kari, this is Isabella.” He turned to me, his eyes soft.

  My Kari.

  I felt the air stutter in my chest at the sound of his words and the picture of him with Jos. It was almost too much to handle.

  I smiled, tearing my eyes away from his. “It’s nice to meet you, Isabella.”

  “Oh, please. Call me Isa. Everyone does,” she said, smiling and tossing a towel onto the countertop. “Can I get you something? Water? Wine?”