The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3) (15 page)

She has to be on top.

I’m not sure why, but I lay back and she follows me. She doesn’t straddle me, but she may as well be. I move my hand to her back and the other to her thigh. Our tongues battle each other, and I want her naked so badly, but I know not to push.

She slows the make out session, and I crave more of her. A few feather-light kisses and Maxima sits up with a genuine smile.

“You’re my hero.”

I’m not sure I hear her, but she springs up and goes to the bathroom.

Chapter Nine

Maxima

Caryn stares at me in disbelief. It’s pretty bad when you shock your therapist speechless. I just told her everything that has happened since our last meeting.

“You? You had sex?”

I nod.

“You got drunk?”

I nod again.

“This is fantastic.” Caryn almost whoops in joy.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ve begged you for years to go out and experience life. Sure, this is a bit more drastic than I originally thought, but you’re finally opening up.”

Caryn has constantly given me homework assignments to go out in public and talk to men, but I never do it.

“I practically raped Remington.”

“He was asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I wanted him.” I shrug because it’s the only explanation I have, and it’s the truth.

“Wanted? As in you don’t want him anymore?”

“No, I
want
him. If anything, I want him more. I would have had sex with him last night if I hadn’t stopped.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I had an epiphany,” I mumble.

“What happened?”

I stand and begin to pace the room. “Our
relationship
is not text book. If anything, we should write a book on how messed up it is. He lied. I’m keeping secrets. But somehow, it’s bringing us closer. I should be fuming mad at his lies, but I know he did it for his daughter and wanted to spend time with me. Is that wrong? Yes, but I’m not mad at him. If anything, I like him more. No one has gone to such lengths to be with me.

“Not to mention, he’s constantly spoiling me. Clothes, dates, he’s always cooking for me. I like it. I like the way he looks at me from across the room. He only has eyes for me. Then yesterday, he was so protective of me. There’s been no one in my life who has ever stood up for me and openly protected me.”

I pause, but continue to pace the room.

“And that was your epiphany.”

“Yes and the fact that Remington is my hero. Every time I’m around him I feel confident and at peace. My past seems to vanish, and it’s just the three of us. I can see a future.”

“You’ve not talked a lot about a future, Maxima.”

I walk the room one more time before sitting down on the couch again. “I didn’t have one before him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t have kids. I never thought I’d have someone in my life like him. I’d planned to work until I retired and that’s it.” I had no other plans. I really thought I’d be alone. I planned on traveling a bit, but not much else.

Caryn is quiet for a moment. “Maxima, we’ve talked about your abortion before, and no one ever said you couldn’t have kids. The doctors only said there was some scarring.”

“Which leads to infertility,” I add on. “I want a family, but I can’t it in the traditional sense.”

When I got my job and qualified for health insurance, I started going to doctor regularly. It’s then I learned about the scarring around my cervix. They thought I would difficulty carrying children.

“Many women, who’ve had abortions, go on and have healthy babies, Maxima.”

“I know.” I’ve heard the statistics on it and talked to doctors. However, no one could give me a direct answer since I wasn’t sexually active. Well, only with Remington.

“Do you want to have sex with Remington again?”

“I almost did last night,” I remind her.

“Maxima, next time, if it happens, just listen to your body. Don’t think about it. Just enjoy it.”

Just enjoy it?

Can I do that?

I sit on the bench and watch Arabella in her dance class. She loves it and has a bright smile on her face learning to keep time with a new song. Since today is my first day with really nothing to do, I cleaned the house. Remington had worked out with the guys and then helped with a youth hockey camp at the arena.

Today was Arabella’s last day of summer classes. It’s almost the beginning of July. I can’t believe now time seems to be flying by. Then again, my life is a whirlwind for sure.

As class ends, Arabella and I gather up her stuff and head out to the car. She talks about her new friends and hopes she can have a sleepover soon. I don’t think it’ll be an issue, especially since I’ll be home more now.

With the severance package they gave me, I’ll be able to take some time off and find another job. The files I took are for the Bears’ players. They’re all Remington’s friends, and I’ll need to contact them all about the changes. I do want to work. I won’t live off Remington.

“Dad,” Arabella shouts as we enter the house.

“His car isn’t here. Why don’t you go take a quick shower? You’ve been dancing around a lot. Bring down you hamper when you come back downstairs, please.”

She nods and takes off upstairs. I head into the kitchen and start figuring out something for dinner. I send a quick text to Remington letting him know I’m handling dinner.

As I’m putting the chicken in the oven to bake, I start the rice and broccoli. Arabella comes down, dragging her clothes basket behind her. Together, we separate her clothes, and I show her where everything goes. I even let her push the buttons on the washing machine, but I put in the detergent. I don’t want her to pour the entire container into the machine.

“There are my girls.” Remington comes into the laundry room.

“Dad, we’re washing clothes.” Arabella beams. I can’t imagine many eight years olds are thrilled about this chore. “Ew, you stink.” She plugs her nose and glares at her dad.

“I’ve been playing hockey all day.” He grins. “But I’m heading to the shower.”

“Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” I inform him.

“I’ll be done by then.” His wink sets me aflame.

Arabella helps me set the table and keeps talking about the dance steps she learned today.

Just as I pull everything out of the oven, Remington comes down, freshly showered.

“Need help?”

“Nope.” I smile at him. “I’ve got it.”

He grins and heads over to the table, letting Arabella tell him all about her day. I place the platter on the table and take a seat on Remington’s right. Arabella keeps the conversation going about her last day of summer school. I love how he hangs on her every word.

When we finish, everyone compliments the food and Remington clears the table and loads the dishwasher. I try to help him, but he shoos me away. Arabella asks to watch TV and I let her while I go upstairs and change out of my jeans and shirt. I clean up and then head back downstairs to find Remington and Arabella curled up on the couch together. They are both fast asleep.

I smile at the innocent sight they make. I grab a blanket from the hall closet and cover them up. Neither of them even stir, and I turn off the TV.

I crawl into the bed and pick up my phone. I send out a few emails, ask Harlow and Meadow if they want to go yoga with me this week, and check some stock market investment final numbers.

I’m almost asleep when Remington carefully comes into the room.

“You were tired,” I say, letting him know I’m not asleep so he doesn’t have to be so quiet.

“Those teenagers kicked my ass at camp today.” He eases into bed. “I told Keaton my ass better get some more ice time before
our
training camp starts.”

I giggle. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

He groans.

I roll over to face him, and he mirrors my pose.

“Tell me about your day. Oh, but first you don’t have to clean the house, Maxima.”

“I don’t mind, and my day was okay. I cleaned, went to my therapy appointment, and got Arabella.”

“How was your therapy appointment?” he asks softly.

I know he wants me to open up, but he can’t learn of my past.

“It was good,” I say simply.

“Well…good…” he nods. “Your dinner was delicious.”

“Thank you.” My body begins to hum.

His dark eyes stare into mine. After a few seconds, he reaches over and strokes a strand a hair from my face. A shiver runs through me. I remember what Caryn said: Just listen to my hormones and my body.

Both want him.

Right now.

The difference from last time is that I don’t have the liquid courage of alcohol pulsing through me. I’m not sure what to do first. Last time, I just stared at him and then stroked him. I can’t do that now. He’s staring at me.

Kiss him.

I’ve kissed him before. This shouldn’t be hard for me to do. Just lean in and place my lips on his. My heart races a bit as I lick my lips, and I do just that: I lean in and kiss.

Thankfully, Remington doesn’t grab me. He places one hand on my arm and leaves the other under his pillow.

Listen to your body
.

I push our connection a little harder, and Remington lies on his back. He now has both of his hands on my waist, and I swing my leg over his hips and straddle him.

We both moan as I rock against his hardness. I can feel how wet I already am. Only Remington can do this to me.

I want him on top.

I tense up and pull back. Did I really think those words? Can I handle it?

“Maxima, are you okay?” Concern is all over his face. His breathtaking face. His dark eyes, strong jaw, and kissable lips.

“Um…”
Good Lord, Maxima Keck, grow up.
“I’m nervous, and I’d like to try something, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

I know he means every word of it. He won’t hurt me. I roll off his hips and lay on my back. Remington rolls onto his side. I’m shaking with the anticipation of feeling him. I’m not scared just…nervous.

“Maxima, please just open up to me. A little bit,” he begs. “Trust me.”

I look up at him and listen to the voice in my head, telling me to talk to him. “I want to have sex with you, but I’m sure I can handle you on top of me.”

He’s trying to hold back a smirk, and I know it’s because I said I want to have sex with him, but then he quickly grows serious.

“I have a suggestion.”

“What?”

“How about I put my hand right here?” He places it on my stomach. “And I’ll remain right here.” He’s on his side, but right up against me. “If you want my hand to go somewhere particular, you move it. If not, then it’ll stay right here. Is that okay?”

I nod a bit enthusiastically. He understands and I feel comfortable with him. He won’t push me. I lift up to connect our lips again. Remington keeps his word and never moves his hand from my mid-section.

Listen to your body.

My body is ready for his touch. I place my hand over his and pull it gently up to my breast. My body arches into his touch. Even through my shirt, he sets me on fire.

He breaks from my lips and nibbles down my neck. I can barely catch my breath as he continues to my collarbone. I take his hand, and it travels down my fat, jiggly stomach to above my shorts. The thin cotton material is drenched, and he’s only turning me on more. And he’s not doing anything but kissing my skin.