“Actually, my mother passed away when I was four. These are my adoptive parents.”
Max looked up from my stomach and into my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Angel.”
“Thanks. I got lucky, though. My parents are brilliant, loving people.”
“I haven’t met them, but already I have to agree. If you’re an indication of their nature as parents, they’re sure to be saints.”
“What a lovely thing to say, Max.”
“It’s true. Loving parents are hard to come by. Trust me. I know.”
“Was it awful? When yours died?”
“It wasn’t easy. Especially since I had to take on the responsibility of raising Inessa.”
“I can’t wait to meet her. I’m looking forward to our dinner next week.”
“Inessa is a straight shooter. She says what she thinks. Even so, she is a good person. I’m sure the two of you are going to get along famously.”
“Who knew?” I smiled and ran my finger down his perfectly straight nose.
“What?”
“Who knew back when you and I were going at it like rabbits at your thirtieth birthday party that we’d be… What are we, Max?”
“Happy?”
“Uh-huh. Cute. You know what I’m asking.”
“I don’t like labels, Babe.”
“Neither do I. But I have to wonder about us.”
“I’m not sleeping with anyone else if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Really?” I spoke. “I am.”
Max looked shell-shocked for a second before he realized I was pulling his leg. He grabbed me, held my hands together, and nibbled on my nipple.
“Oh, really,” he said in between my hysterical giggling. “I’d better not catch you.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Please,” I begged, “Stop.”
Max let go of my wrists. Then, he took my hand and guided it to his groin.
“I bet no one else can give you this,” he said in a thick voice.
“No one,” I agreed.
“Ready for round two?” he breathed into my ear as he mounted me.
“What do you think? Dance monkey, dance,” I whispered and closed my eyes.
* * *
“Max, meet my parents, Ian and Claire Harris. Mom, Dad, this is Max.”