Your Inescapable Love (The Bennett Family Book 4)

by Layla Hagen

  I pulse around him already as I push myself into him, needing more. Needing everything. We give in to the throes of passion without restraint. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh resounds in the bedroom, intermingled with our moans and groans. I place my palms on the mattress to steady myself as wave after wave of pleasure sears me. Pressure builds deep inside me as every inch of my body tingles with the need for relief.

  “Fuck,” Max says on a groan. “You feel too good. I’m going to come soon.”

  His words are like a match, lighting my senses on fire. As he widens inside me, my insides clench tightly, and my orgasm races through me at the same time Max finds his release. He remains on top of me for long minutes, drawing deep breaths. Having his hard chest against my back and his strong arms at my sides is amazing. We’re both at peace, at least until I decide to be naughty and squeeze my inner muscles around his softening erection.

  “What are you doing?” he inquires, propping himself up on an elbow.

  “Giving him a small thank-you hug for all the great work.”

  “I see. He hasn’t done such great work if all he deserves is a small thank-you, though.”

  “Never said that.”

  “I’m curious, what would be a big thank-you?”

  “You’ll know it when you see it. Or feel it,” I reply playfully.

  A few minutes later, he lies by my side and I nudge against him, finding my favorite spot—between his shoulder and his chest, with my nose resting in the crook of his neck. He drapes his arm around me, and I feel warm and safe and loved. I want to stay here forever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emilia

  Max and I spend the next week wrapped in a bubble of our own making. While we don’t manage to carve out time for another actual date, he stops by during my lunch break a couple of times. We finally agree on a cozy night in at my house on Friday evening, but when the day arrives, I’m forced to text Max and ask for a rain check.

  Emilia: Sorry, nasty stomach bug. Need a rain check

  Grams was down with a nasty stomach bug last night. She’s marginally better now, but unfortunately I caught the bug too. So I’m hugging my toilet seat, emptying the contents of my stomach for the third time in two hours. I don’t even have anything left to throw up, for God’s sake. It has to stop at some point.

  “Violet, honey, should I do something?” Grams asks, standing in the doorway of the toilet, her silver-gray hair hanging in sweaty curls. Normally, hearing her call me my mother’s name would bring me to tears. As it is, I can’t even muster the energy for that. I don’t know if the sting in my throat is from the stomach acid or from fighting a sob. I’m a freaking mess.

  “It’s okay. Go to sleep, you need it after being sick last night.” It’s barely eight o’clock, but she needs her rest. Grams shifts her weight from one foot to the other, resembling a lost child and not my strong grandmother, before nodding and disappearing from my sight. I can’t help thinking how this situation would have looked more than one year ago. I would have looked after Grams when she was sick, and she would have done the same when I was unwell. But now even the slightest change in her routine turns her upside down, and I’m taking care of both of us. I don’t mind at all, but just for today, I want my Grams back. The old Grams. Feeling my stomach heave again, I lean over the toilet. Nothing comes out, but I don’t dare move away. I reek of vomit, but I’m too exhausted to even rise to my feet and make it to the sink and clean my face.

  I have no idea how long I stay like this, with my head on the cold tiles of the bathroom, curled in a fetal position. My stomach is rumbling violently again when the buzz of the door echoes throughout the house. Go away. There’s no way I can pull myself together long enough to make it to the door. I listen intently for sounds that would indicate Grams is opening the door, but the house is silent. My own fault, I suppose. A while ago I convinced her to use earplugs at night, so she won’t be bothered by the sounds of the street.

  Whoever is at the door buzzes twice more before giving up. I sigh against the tiles, wishing they were softer. The side I’m lying on is starting to ache. I’m weighing my chances of making it to the bed when a loud sound from the living room startles me. I wince so violently that I knock the top of my head against the toilet.

  “Owwww.”

  “Emilia? The back door was unlocked,” Max’s voice sounds from the living room. “Where are you?” My stomach recoils at the sound.

  “I’m in the bathroom. Don’t you dare come in here.”

  Which is exactly what he does, of course. I try to scramble into a sitting position, but all I manage is to hit my head against the toilet again. Stupid toilet. Why is it standing in my way?

  “Holy shit,” he exclaims when he steps inside, which I suppose sums the situation just about right. I’m lying on the floor, reeking of vomit, and I might have two concussions from hitting the stupid toilet bowl. Max holds two small bags with pharmacy signs on them.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask on a groan. “I texted you saying I need a rain check.”

  “Because you’re sick.” Holding up the bag, he adds, “I went to the pharmacy and bought everything they had for stomach bugs, which isn’t much. The pharmacist says it’s important to let it all out.”

  “It’s all out, trust me. If anything more comes out, I’ll be vomiting my intestines.”

  “Where is Grams?”

  “Sleeping. She’s okay now.”

  Max crouches next to me. My first instinct is to push myself away so he can’t smell me. I decide against it because there’s a high chance I’ll smack my head against the toilet bowl again, and I think I might pass out this time.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says softly, pushing a strand of hair that sticks to my cheek out of my face. Vomit clings on it. I want to die.

  “Max, please go. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “I’ve hit my head twice against the toilet, so I can’t rule out the possibility. I’m very embarrassed right now.”

  He sits next to me, propping my head on his thigh. I’m marginally better, because his thigh is softer than the floor. Not soft enough though, because my man works out too much for that.

  “We’ve seen each other when we had measles. This is nothing in comparison,” Max says.

  “What are you talking about? We never had measles. I didn’t at least. Maybe you had it after I moved.”

  “Yes we did. That time when we had red spots everywhere.”

  “That was chicken pox, Max.”

  “Whatever.”

  I move my head slightly, flinching when my stomach burns anew. Oh no. This can’t be happening again.

  “I still can’t believe we had it at the same time,” I mumble.

  “Can I tell you a little secret? I gave it to you on purpose.”

  “Huh?”

  Weirdly enough, I remember that time crystal clear. Probably because it was a sunny spring, and Max and I were locked inside the house for what seemed like an eternity. We were ten, and the evening before I came down sick, he snuck into my bedroom to bring me some stickers I forgot at his house. When I woke up, I had five red, painful blotches on my body.

  “I already knew I had chicken pox when I came to your house,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “Mom forbade me to leave the house. When I realized I’d be stuck inside for weeks, I decided I didn’t want to be alone. Mom even moved Christopher to another room so he wouldn’t get sick.”

  “You had half a dozen siblings in that house, but you chose me?”

  “What can I say, Jonesie, there was no one I’d rather be sick with than you.”

  “Wow.” I swallow my laughter for fear that any chuckle and giggle might be accompanied by my stomach acid. “You chose me to give chicken pox to. That’s really romantic. Hate to burst your bubble, though, but you didn’t have anything to do with it. The incubation period is ten to twenty days, so I contracted it long
before that.”

  “Well, damn.”

  We had fun, even though we were sick. Mrs. Bennett convinced Grams that it was better if I stayed at their house until I got healthy again, because I needed care and Grams couldn’t take so many days off. Since Christopher was moved to another room, I got to share a bedroom with Max. The boys had bunk beds, and even though the top one belonged to Max, he let me sleep in it, because I wanted it so badly.

  “It’s different now, Max. We’re dating. You’re supposed to think I fart rainbows and never have morning breath.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “All the more reason for you to go home and do something fun on a Friday night,” I insist.

  “That’s not going to happen. You’d better get used it.”

  “Ugh, I don’t even have the energy to fight you.”

  “Excellent. I win by default then.”

  He runs his palm on my back in circles, and God, it feels good.

  “What’s in the other bag?” I ask, realizing one of the bags doesn’t have a pharmacy sign on it.

  “Some cheese crackers. I’d bought them for Grams before you told me you were sick. I remember she liked them. She still does, doesn’t she?” he asks, glancing down at me.

  “Stop being so considerate about everything,” I tell him without thinking.

  Max cocks an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Sighing, I admit, “I’m not used to it. I don’t know how to react.”

  “You mean to say I wasn’t considerate before?”

  “No, no. You always were sweet to me, but now it’s different, because....” My voice trails off when I catch his smile. “I’m not making any sense, I know.”

  “You are, Jonesie. Because I know you.” He places a kiss on my forehead that shouldn’t make the skin on my entire body heat up, but it does any way. This man deserves a medal for not even cringing at the way I smell. I can barely stand myself. “It has to do with the farting rainbows bullshit. You think that because I got in your pants, I’ll suddenly become some kind of jerk.”

  I cover my face with my hands. Through my fingers, I say, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to hold you to the standard the jerks in my past have set.”

  “Actually, I have no problem with it. They’ve set the bar so low it makes exceeding your expectations very easy.”

  “Wow, when you put it that way.” I chuckle, and immediately I regret it because my stomach heaves.

  Max shrugs, pointing to the bag of crackers. “Anyway, I was just being self-absorbed. I thought my chances of Grams chasing me out of the house with a broomstick would be lower if I brought her favorite crackers.”

  “I love it when you’re being self-absorbed.”

  “You’re mine, Emilia. Get used to me being around all the time.”

  Mine. The word rolls back and forth in my mind, goose bumps rising on my skin. I like the sound of it. It makes me feel safe and hot and bothered at the same time. I never thought the two feelings could coexist. But if there is a man on this planet who can achieve the impossible, I have full confidence it’s Max. Almost instinctively, I lean against him, resting my head on his chest, close to the crook of his neck.

  ***

  Max

  “Don’t you want me to move you somewhere more comfortable?” I ask her.

  “Nah, moving makes me want to throw up.”

  Damn, hadn’t thought of that. But there must be something I can do to make her feel better. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Emilia grunts, but nods. “Just don’t forget that I can’t move too much.”

  Carefully, I prop her up on her ass, and that’s when I see the traces of vomit on the front of her shirt. She tries to cover them with her hands, offering me a mortified smile.

  I remove her clothes one by one, and there is nothing sexual about this moment. We’re quiet as I wash her, rinsing her skin and her hair. Afterward, I intend to carry her to the bedroom, but no sooner do I lift her in my arms that she says, “Oh no. Put me down, quick.”

  She makes it to the toilet in the nick of time. I hold her hair back while she throws up.

  “I’ll sleep here.”

  “Won’t Grams need the bathroom over the night?”

  “Nah, she sleeps like a rock until morning. I’ll stay here. It doesn’t make sense to leave. You can sleep in my bedroom,” she tells me after rinsing her mouth over the sink while I hold her.

  “Stayin’ right here, sweetheart.” I lie down on the floor, patting my chest, indicating for her to place her head there.

  “I don’t know if I should. What if I throw up on your shirt?”

  In a stroke of genius, I remove my shirt. “Problem solved. Clever tactic to get me to strip, Jonesie.”

  She chuckles, leaning next to me, perching one leg over me and resting her head on my chest. My dick twitches when I feel one of her boobs against the side of my torso. Forget it, Bennett. You’re not getting laid tonight.

  “Thank you for staying here with me,” she says softly.

  “Hey, I’m spending the night with a beautiful, naked woman in my arms. Couldn’t get any better.”

  Well, it could. The floor is damn hard, but my woman finally seems comfortable, so I’m not moving even if my back will kill me tomorrow. Emilia traces some lines on my abs with her fingers, which further endangers the situation below the belt. Damn it.

  “Why do you have to be so perfect?” she murmurs. “I have to get you to drink lots of beer.”

  “You want me to have a beer belly?” I ask in confusion.

  “Yeah. We must do something about your pretty face too. Make you uglier. Or maybe cover it up with a thick beard.”

  “Why?”

  “So no one can steal you from me,” she whispers, hiding her face from me. I barely stop myself from kissing her senseless to show her how much she means to me.

  “No one will, Emilia. I want to be happy, and lately that means making you happy.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Emilia

  On Tuesday I’m well enough to present myself at the clinic, but I’m on a diet of toast the entire day. I don’t trust my stomach at all. The weekend was a blur of stomachache and multiple close-ups of my toilet bowl. All I distinctly remember is Max’s warmth and patience as he took care of me. I didn’t think this man could get under my skin any deeper, but he did.

  I have a silly grin on my face the entire day, which garners me curious and skeptical glances alike from my patients. Yeah, I probably seem like a madwoman to them, especially because I chuckle to myself from time to time when I remember tidbits of my conversations with Max. There’s no bonding like spending an entire night together on the bathroom floor. That night, the entire weekend, in fact, meant a lot to me. I’m in this so deep, it scares me.

  In the afternoon I have a half hour break because one of my patients cancelled at the last minute. I take advantage and walk to a bench outside, hoping to soak in some sunrays before the sun sets. On the way there, I catch my reflection in a mirror. I have dark circles under my eyes and my skin is two shades paler than usual. I lost five pounds over the weekend, and even though I resemble a zombie more than a living person, I have a certain glow I haven’t seen before. I’ve never understood the concept of someone glowing until now. I must be losing my mind. Maybe that’s why they say madly in love.

  Lying on the wood bench outside, I close my eyes, smiling at the sun. The wind is downright cutting, but that’s why I have a thick jacket today and I brought a cup of tea with me, which I am nursing in silence. Seconds later, my phone rings. My first instinct is to ignore it, but I change my mind as soon as I peek at the screen and notice the name of the caller. Max.

  “If you were anyone else, I would have completely ignored you,” I tell him instead of hello.

  “Glad to hear I have special status. I wonder why that is.”

  “Mmm, might have something to do with your fantastic kissing abilities.”

  “I see. Any other abil
ities you might want to single out?”

  “Nah, nothing else stands out,” I tease him.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Why did you want to ignore phone calls anyway? Your workday’s over.”

  “Not exactly. I’m on a short break. I rescheduled some of yesterday’s patients for today.”

  “You’re overworking yourself.” His voice has changed from playful to hard within an instant. I shift to a sitting position, my back hurting a notch from the hard surface of the bench.

  “I need the money. And I’m healthy.” I take a few sips of my tea, waiting for him to bring up the reason for calling. When he doesn’t say anything, I press, “Did you call for any reason?”

  “Well, now that you mention it. I’ll ask you something, and you have to say yes.”

  I chuckle, but make sure my voice is firm when I reply, “You can’t boss me around, Max.”

  “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying.”

  “What’s the matter?” My stomach tightens as I wait for his answer.

  “My family is getting together at Pippa’s house Thursday for dinner, and I want you to come with me.”

  Instantly I leap to my feet, fueled by a burst of energy. Unfortunately I also spill a good amount of the tea on myself. Thank God it was only lukewarm. “I’d love to. I can’t wait to see your family again. I have to talk to Mrs. Wilson, but I think she’ll say yes.”

  “You do know they’ll drill you about us, right? I’ll ask them not to, but—”

  That makes me chuckle. “If your family is anything like I remember it, it won’t work.”

  “They’re exactly the way you remember them.”

  “Can’t wait to see them again, anyway.”

  “All right. But if you hear the words matchmaking or wedding, don’t get too scared.”

  My hands clasp tighter, one around the cup, the other around the phone. “What?”

  “My family has been on a mission to matchmake everyone. Long story, I’ll tell it to you when I see you. Just don’t worry if you hear the words. They’re being tossed around very casually in my family.”