The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3) (13 page)

This morning, I wake up before anyone. I plan on going to the office early and catching up on the work I missed. I leave a note for Remington and Arabella letting them know I went to work and would be working late.

I spend the next ten hours getting intimately reacquainted with my voicemail and emails. No one seems upset for my days off, and there is nothing too pressing, just a lot of answering questions and drafting contracts. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I check the time and see a text from Harlow and Meadow. They want to have drinks. I text them back telling them I’m leaving the office now.

“Maxima.”

As I gather my stuff, I glance up to see Jackson coming into my office and shutting the door. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“I’ve been trying to figure out a way to speak to you all day.”

“About what?” I try to remain calm.

“I talked to everyone upstairs.” He means the heads of the firm.

“And…” I wait for him to continue.

“You’re fired.”

Those two words are not what I expected him to say. “What?”

“You’re constantly calling off or leaving early. You’re not committed to this firm or this job anymore.”

I’m not sure what to say. I’m committed. I’ve been with this firm for nine years.

“However,” Jackson comes closer, and all the air leaves me. “Maybe we can work something out.”

My stomach drops. No, this isn’t happening.

“You have to know how much I’ve wanted you, Maxie.”

The bile rises up from my stomach.
He
called me Maxie when
he
wasn’t calling me his special girl.

“I know you like me as well. You started dressing sexier for me.”

No, it’s for Remington.

“Let’s start off with a kiss and see how it goes from there.”

“Like hell.” I find my voice. “I’m leaving.” I try to sound brave, but I sound small, almost child-like.

“Maxie.”

A strength I didn’t know I had surges through me, and I shove Jackson as I hard as I can, and I bolt for the door and out to my car.

I barely remember driving to the bar to meet the girls. I should go home because Remington can help take away the dirtiness I feel. Instead, I go into the bar and drink.

Chapter Eight

Remington

I get Arabella to bed without any trouble tonight. I think it helps that Maxima left a note for her letting her know she’d be back late, but she will be back. I know Maxima has missed a lot of work lately, and it’ll only get worse when hockey season starts. I’ll need to figure out what to do with Arabella if Maxima leaves.

I’m doing my best to remain hopeful she will stay with me. She’s taken everything so well, thus far, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. My life has been a roller coaster since Valentine’s Day.

I spoke to my attorney today, and we have an appointment to meet this week. If Rickie has a private investigator, then I need to make sure all our ducks are in a row. Damn, I’m a metaphor junkie tonight.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and rips me from my thoughts. Not sure who would be here, I go and find out. Shock and dismay fill me when Harlow and Meadow are on the other side holding up…Maxima.

“She’s very drunk,” Harlow informs me.

“Maxima?” I never seen her drink more than two glasses of wine.

“There’s my Remington.” She slightly slurs and falls…yes, falls…into my arms. “You’re great.”

I grunt, and I’m able to adjust her body so she doesn’t fall out of my grasp.

“I drove her car.” Meadow adds and hands me her purse and keys. “Her cell phone is in her purse.”

“What the hell happened?” I ask them.

“Bad day,” Maxima answers with a hiccup.

“She’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Harlow says. “We’ll be leaving now. Have fun, Maxima.”

Maxima hums against my neck as I shut the door and then toss her things on the couch.

“Let’s get you upstairs.” I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the bedroom. She holds tightly onto my neck.

I sit her on the edge of the bed, and she kicks her heels off. I figured I’d leave her in her clothes, but after I pick up her heels and toss them in her closet, I see her struggling out of her shirt.

“Help, baby. Help me.” She called me baby? She’s never called me anything but Remington.

“Baby,” she says with more force, and it snaps me to attention, and I rush over to help her.

“Here.” I’m able to get her out of the shirt, and she giggles.

I knew her tits would be fantastic. I try my best not to stare, but they’re right in front of me swathed in lace.

Stop looking, asshole.

“Baby, my pants.” She falls back on the bed.

I groan. “Maxima, let’s leave them on.”

“No,” she whines and wiggles her legs. “Take ‘em off, baby.”

“Damn,” I mutter. “Let me get you a t-shirt.”

“No,” she whimpers this time. “I’m so hot. Help me.”

I don’t want her to wake Arabella, so I quickly give in and get her pants off. This isn’t how I wanted to see her naked for the first time. Well, practically naked anyway.

She’s so much hotter than my imagination.

Her long legs are toned and thick. God, I want them wrapped around me badly.

“Come on, Maxima; let’s get you under the covers.” I finally get her and her alluring curves under the covers and away from temptation.

“Thank you, baby,” she coos.

“You’re welcome.” I kiss her forehead.

I turn and pick up her clothes and then run downstairs to get her some cool water and aspirin. I wonder why she drank so much. I’m sure the stress I’m putting her under isn’t helping, not to mention her job, which is very demanding on her. I shouldn’t be as shocked.

I put everything on the night stand and crawl on my side of the bed, making sure the bathroom light is on. I don’t want her waking up scared. I smooth her hair out of her face as she softly snores.

She’s the most beautiful women ever.

This time, I brush my lips against her cheek and then roll over, pulling the cover up to my chin.

The smell of lavender fills me. It’s not choking; just a hint in the air. Maxima smells like lavender. I take a deep breath and imagine her naked body: Her full breasts, thick curves, and delicious legs.

I want to lick her entire body.

I know I’m hard as a rock, but it’s okay, because in this dream, Maxima is jerking me off. Not rough. Gently.

Up and down.

Up and down.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

Her voice is angelic in my ears. I moan as she continues to stroke me.

“I want to fuck you.”

Yep, I’m dreaming. Maxima doesn’t say fuck. I’ve barely heard her say damn.

“Okay,” I answer dream Maxima.

“Baby, you have to let me be on top. Being on the bottom scares me.”

“Okay.”

Wait…what?

“And don’t call me special girl.”

Something’s wrong. I mean, her stroking me feels great, but what kind of shit is she saying?

“I’m so wet. Do you know how badly I want you?”

“I want you.” I answer her back.

Almost instantaneously, reality hits me via Maxima riding my dick. My eyes fly open, expecting to wake up being wrong, but I’m not.

The light from the bathroom gives me a very crystal clear picture of Maxima on top of me. She still has a bra on, but her panties are gone.

Where the hell did my shorts go?

Did she take them off?

“Maxima, stop.” I grab her biceps and sit up.

She rides me harder, causing my brain and dick to battle for control. I’ve wanted nothing more than to bury in Maxima, but not like this. This is wrong.

“Baby, I need to get off. I need to get off on you. You feel so good.” She rocks against me.

She feels amazing on me. She belongs right here on top of me.

“No,” I say both to myself and out loud.

“Yes, baby, yes.” The entire bed is rocking, and I need to stop this. “Oh, God, baby I’m about to cum.”

“Fuck.” Those words from her lips trigger my balls, dick, and hormones all at once.

He pussy tightens around me like a vise grip. It’s almost virginal, but I’m sure Maxima has had boyfriends or lovers in the past. She just doesn’t talk about them.

“I’m cumming.” Like before, the two words send me into a tailspin. My brain and conscience shut down, and I think with one head. Only one head.

My dick.

Maxima has soaked my dick and balls, but continues to rock on me.

“Fuck.” I lay back, grab her hips, and pound up into her. Within seconds, I’m cumming deep in her. She collapses on my chest, breathing just as hard as I am.

“You’re the best, baby.”

“No, Maxima, I’m a fucking worthless human being.”

But she’s passed out again, and I roll her onto her side of the bed. I’m able to pull myself out of her, and I softly curse again.

No fucking condom.

Seriously, I’m a worthless human being.

I get up and hit the shower. No, I don’t want to wash her smell away. I want to wash away the dirtiest I’ve ever felt. Fuck, I’m a true idiot. And now I’ve put myself in a real predicament, because when Maxima wakes up, she really will leave. I took advantage of a very drunk woman.

I need to talk to her the moment she gets up, and Arabella can’t be around when this fight, well, discussion happens.

As I finish my shower and change. I finally notice the time. It’s later than I thought. I grab my phone and head downstairs. I want to be right next to Maxima the second she opens her eyes. I call Vance. The kid is so predictable and sticks tight to his schedule.

“Hey, Rosin.” The thick Irish accent answers after one ring.

“Hey, Leprechaun, is Dacey available to talk?”

“Why?”

“I need a huge favor.”

“Hang on.”

I hear some shuffling around, and a few seconds later Dacey comes to the line.

“Hi, Remington.” Her accent isn’t as thick as Vance’s.

“Hi, Dacey, listen I was wondering if you could take Arabella to school? I know it’s short notice—”

“It’s no problem. What time?”

I tell her the time, and the name of the school. She says she’ll be here. When I end the call, I go up to Arabella’s room and get her ready.

Of course, she’s worried about Maxima, but I tell her she’s not feeling well. I have no clue how I’ll be able to explain this situation when Maxima leaves us. Arabella is going to lose it and be mad at me. She has every right to be. Hell, Maxima should kick my ass for sure. I once deemed myself a smart man, and now, I’m seriously questioning what the hell I was thinking.

Dacey comes to get Arabella, who seems to be over the moon that Dacey is taking her to school. I wave as I watch them pull away before I go back into the house, trying to figure out this shit storm I’m in.

I whipped up some breakfast for Maxima, along with coffee and more aspirin. When I checked on her earlier, she drank some of the water and took the pills. Now it’s early afternoon and we had to talk, especially, before Arabella gets home.

I sit the tray of food down on the nightstand and look at Maxima. She can stop the world with her look and her curves.

“You can stop staring at me.” Maxima’s voice makes me jump slightly. Her stunning eyes pop open. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

I take a seat down by her feet on the edge of the bed.

“We need to talk,” I softly say, not sure how hung over she is.

“We do.” She remains on her side. “Can you hand me a t-shirt? I’m still very naked under here.” She sounds tiny, almost scared.

I grab one from the dresser and hand it to her. I keep my back turned as she moves around until she tells me it’s okay, and I take my place at the end of the bed again.

Her long black hair is messy, but in a deeply sexy way. Freshly fucked. It makes me feel worse since I’m the reason she looks this way.

Maxima is now sitting up against the headboard, and I can still see her black lacy bra through the shirt.

Stop looking asshole.

“Remington, I need to say I’m sorry, and I know that doesn’t even cover it.”

What?
“What?”