What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (52 page)

He shook his head. “It’s not important right now. What
is
important is that now you know why I didn’t let you get too close to me. Do you see this like I do? What we did was amazing. Mind-blowing, actually. But there’s something more to having someone stay in your bed overnight.”

“I do see it like that. But—”

“Wait. I know what you’re going to say. You’re not like the girls I just described. I know that now. Hell, I knew it then. But it’s almost a reflex now. I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry I handled it like that with you.”

We were silent for a moment. I wanted to kiss him, but more than that, I wanted him to kiss me. He didn’t.

“Now,” he said. “Unload your baggage. We had a deal.”

“I know.” I took a breath. “I had a relationship with a guy for three years, back in Ohio. I was headed down the same road as my mom and my sister—find a guy, get married, have kids. I found the guy, but it turned out he found other girls, too.”

Max frowned.

“Three of them, to be exact,” I said. “I found out about the first two at the same time. Before I got up the nerve to confront him, I found out about the third. That’s when I told him I was done, it was over, so long, all that.”

“It didn’t go well,” Max said, as if he already knew, but there was no way he could know. He just guessed there was a lot more.

I let out a deep sigh. “Not well at all. I’d never seen him so angry. I wasn’t scared of him, but I didn’t want to see him ever again. I stopped going out with my friends because I thought I’d run into him. I’d go to the mall and be nervous that he’d be there and we’d have an argument. He was calling me all the time, leaving messages, texting, pretty much begging me to forgive him. He came to our house one night—I was living at home—and my father had to call the police to get rid of him. It was getting that bad.”

“Stalker.”

“Yep. So, anyway, he shows up at my house one day when my parents aren’t there. I’m at the kitchen table getting resumes and cover letters together. Regular day. And then he just walks in. Right into the kitchen, through the door that leads to the backyard.”

Max sat forward, closer to me. “Jesus, Olivia.”

I got a little choked up talking about it again. Max put his hand on my leg and gave it a light, comforting squeeze.

“So,” I said, battling back the tears, “he’s saying he just wants to talk and I’m telling him to leave. He refuses. I stand up and yell at him to leave, telling him I’m going to call the police. That’s when he moved around the table before I could even process what was happening. He backed me up against the wall and said—I’ll never forget these words—he said, ‘I’ll never let you love anyone else.’ And I said, ‘I don’t love you.’”

Max’s eyebrows rose. For a split second, I thought how surprising that was. Here was a writer, a story-teller, successful maker of movies, riveted by my story.

I needed to get the story over with. I hated thinking about it, much less talking about it. “That’s when he raised his fist and cocked his arm back, like he was about to punch me in the face. God, the anger I saw in his eyes…it was terrifying. I’d never seen that in him before. I’d never seen that in
anyone
.”

“Did he hit you, Olivia?”

I shook my head. “No. I just crumbled right there in front of him. Fell right to the floor, hysterically crying. I don’t know if that’s what stopped him or what. I just stayed on the floor and after a minute or so, I saw his shoes turn the other way and he left. Just walked out. Didn’t say anything.”

Max moved closer and put his arm around me.

I said, “You’re only the second person I’ve told.”

He lowered his head to my shoulder and kissed it. Then he looked up, put a finger under my chin and turned my face toward his. “I’m sorry, Olivia.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, about how I handled the other night.”

“Oh, well, that
is
your fault.” I smiled.

Thankfully, Max had a sense of humor and took my sarcasm in stride.

We were silent for a few moments and then he had the best idea I’d heard in a long time.

“I’m not going to ask to stay here, or ask you to come home with me. I’m going to leave, and tomorrow I’ll pick you up, we’ll go on a date—a
real
date, our first one—and we’ll make all of this right. Like it’s all new. How does that sound?”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Perfect.”

“Good. Are you okay after that talk? Okay to be by yourself?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

We moved toward the door. While it was a little strange with him leaving after we’d opened up to each other on such a deeply personal level, it was also thrilling. The anticipation of a real date with Max Dalton was taking over the sadness of having to tell my story. Somehow, Max knew exactly the right thing for us to do next if we were going to move forward.

He stopped at the door, took me in his arms and kissed me sweetly.

“Just one thing,” I said. “After what we did on your couch the other day, I’m not sure
everything
will be so new.”

Max grinned to match my teasing facial expression. In the sexiest tone he said, “Oh, you just wait.” And with that, he opened the door and left.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait. I felt more for this man after our conversation, and I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him inside me, filling me.

I needed distraction, so I chose the thing I hated the most and started doing some laundry. I’d let it pile up too long and a chore was the best alternative for sitting around and replaying all that had happened.

But I wished Max was there.

And ten minutes later my heart did a little flutter when I heard a knock at the door. Had I willed him to turn around and come back? Had I wished into existence the sight of him standing in my doorway, telling me he wanted to stay the night?

I got to the door and couldn’t unlock it fast enough. I stopped just before opening it, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, but couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear smile on my face.

I opened the door and the fluttering in my heart turned to a pounding—a scary thumping in my ears and throat, my body’s instant fight or flight reaction to the sight of Chris standing there.

What felt like hours couldn’t have even been minutes. It could only have been mere seconds until he spoke.

“Hear me out.”

That’s all he said. I stood there stunned, my mouth going dry, my heart still thundering in my chest. I didn’t say anything.

“Look, Olivia, I know this might seem strange—”

“You’re goddamn right it is.” I started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the way too fast. I quickly reached up and fastened the chain. It wasn’t a very good barrier, but it was my only choice at the moment. “I swear to God I’ll call the police if you don’t leave.”

He didn’t move. “Just hear me out, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what? For stalking me? For freaking out on me? For almost hitting me? For stalking me
all the way out here
? Go away. Forever!”

I pushed on the door, trying to make him move his foot, but he didn’t budge.

“I drove all the way here to talk to you. I’m not going away until you talk to me.”

“You’re going away,” the voice said.

Through the narrow opening in the door, I saw Chris look to his left. “Who the hell are
you
?”

Chris was suddenly gone. In a flash I saw Max’s body shove him out of the way. I unchained the door and poked my head out. Max and Chris were on the sidewalk. Max was getting the better of him. One punch to the face and Chris seemed dazed.

Max rose from the ground, pulling Chris up with him. Max looked at me. “Chris, right?”

I nodded.

The front of Chris’s shirt was bunched in Max’s fists. Max shook him and threw him against the wall, then moved to stand in front of him.

I peered around the corner so I could see them again.

Chris said, “You broke my nose.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Max said, “I’m the guy who’s going to make it my mission to destroy your pathetic fucking life if you don’t leave Olivia alone.”

Chris covered his face with one hand. Blood was running down his wrist. For once, Chris was telling the truth—Max really had broken his nose.

“Do you understand me?”

Chris looked at his bloody hand.

Max raised his fist and drew it back behind his head. “Does this look familiar?”

Chris looked at me. I kept my eyes trained on Max.

“Do you understand?” Max repeated.

Chris said, “Is this your boyfriend or something?”

I didn’t say anything.

Max made a move like he was going to release the punch, but he didn’t have time.

Chris put his hands up in front of him. “All right. Jesus, man! I’ll go!” Chris started to walk away, backwards down the walkway, as if he were afraid to let Max get behind him. There’s nothing like the sight of a frightened bully.

Max watched him as he got to the end of the sidewalk, then walked down there himself and saw to it that Chris got in his car and left.

When Max got back to my door he said, “I’m taking you with me.”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged. “How did you know he was here?”

“I got out to the parking lot and saw a guy sitting in a car looking at the building. When I drove past, I saw the Ohio plates. Your ex-boyfriend is a moron, Olivia.”

“I can stay here. I don’t think he’ll come back after—”

“Please don’t argue with me about this. I want you by my side tonight. Pack an overnight bag and come with me.”

D
uring the drive to his house, it dawned on me to let Krystal know what had happened. If she was going to be alone in the apartment I had to let her know the details. I got her voicemail and hung up. Ten minutes later, when we were almost to Max’s place, I called again and left a message, then texted her so she’d be sure to get the info.

I mentioned to Max what a strange lifestyle Krystal seemed to have—disappearing for days on end, hardly ever home to begin with, and when she is home she more often than not has a different guy with her.

Max just shrugged it off. “The important thing is, you’re with me.”

I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder until we got to his house.

Once inside he said, “I have six bedrooms.”

“No need to brag.”

He laughed. “I wasn’t bragging.”

“I know.”

I appreciated the gesture. He was letting me know I could sleep anywhere I wanted. “I think it’s very gentlemanly of you to give me the option. So does that mean I can do what I want?”

“Absolutely.”

During one of our talks, he’d mentioned that he had a movie theater in his house. I had laughed at the time, and he said he was serious—it wasn’t a full-size theater, but it sat twenty people and that’s where he watched dailies and screened movies for friends.

“I want to see this theater you told me about.”

He smiled, took my hand, and led me to a door just off the den. We walked down a flight of stairs and, sure enough, there it was: a miniature theater.

“Don’t tell me you want to watch a movie,” he said.

“No, I had something else in mind.”

We were standing between the screen and the first row of seats. My back was to the screen; Max was facing me, with a seat just a foot or so behind him. I put my hand flat on his chest and pushed. The backs of his knees touched the chair, and he sat.

Max’s eyes squinted, like he was trying to figure out what had gotten into me. That, or he knew, and he was turned on by me showing how much I wanted him.

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“Olivia…” His voice faded out.

I shook my head. “Don’t try to stop me.”

I unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and unzipped them, all while keeping eye contact with Max. I loved watching the thrill in his eyes.

I slid my hand into his boxers and felt him get harder under my touch. I stroked him, feeling his length and girth growing. He was hard and warm.

“I want you, Olivia.”