CHAPTER SEVEN #2
Lucy nodded her head lazily. “Please,” she whispered. That one word was all Max needed to hear.
Spinning her in his arms, Max cupped her face and crashed his lips down upon hers in a fiery kiss.
Her lips were so soft and sweet he couldn’t help himself from licking his tongue along the seam of them to get a deeper taste.
When Lucy groaned and opened for him, it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull and he charged forward.
Max’s hands traveled down to her hips, gripping them tightly as he brought her closer.
At the first touch of her soft, supple body next to his, he nearly burst into flames.
It was as if someone had thrown a match on a pile of wood soaked with kerosene.
Could she feel the heat pouring off his body?
He certainly hoped so. Then she would know exactly what she did to him, though he was pretty sure she could feel the evidence of that pressing against her belly right now.
As their tongues danced and mingled with one another, their hands roamed and grabbed at each other’s bodies.
Max’s hands moved upward, his thumbs brushing underneath her breasts, a move that had her moaning into his mouth, and he wanted to swallow every single one.
Every sound of pleasure she made belonged to him, just as all of his moans, his grunts of need building up within him belonged to her.
When her hands moved behind him and cupped his backside, he nearly came undone and spilled in his pants.
This was getting dangerously close to something he wanted desperately, but she may not feel the same.
He slowed the kisses, finally giving her lower lip one final nibble before backing away.
When he looked at Lucy, her hair was mussed from his hands and her eyes were glazed, the sheen reminding him a bit like the tartlets he made at the bakery.
The bakery he worked at. In America. The knowledge that he would have to leave her, even if it was temporary, cooled his desire slightly.
Lucy must have seen something in his eyes because soon she was cupping his cheek.
He covered her hand with his own and leaned into the touch.
“Where did you go? I lost you just now.”
Max shook his head and smiled sadly at her. “No, Lucy. You have me.” He just didn’t know for how long. “Now, how about we try these ginger biscuits, yea?”
Lucy studied him, and he knew she could tell there was more he wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t call him on it.
Max appreciated it and at the same time wished she would have so he would be forced to figure things out.
Still, right now was about her, not him.
“Alright,” she finally said. She passed him a biscuit before taking one of her own.
“Take a few bites and then give me your thoughts. Your honest thoughts.”
Max stared into her cocoa-brown eyes. “I will only be honest with you, Miss Lucy,” he vowed.
When she smiled, he broke the biscuit in half, enjoying the crisp sound that filled the air as he did.
“Well, we know it has a nice snap.” He proceeded to take a few bites and chewed them thoughtfully.
He could taste the earthiness of the molasses, the spice of the ginger, and the sweetness that was present to balance it all out.
Overall, it was a delicious biscuit that he could easily see being sold at a bakery here, in London, or anywhere in the world really.
“It’s delicious, Lucy. Honestly, it’s one of the best ginger biscuits I’ve had. ”
Lucy smiled up at him. “It’s my Grammy’s recipe,” she informed him before taking a bite herself.
She looked pleased at first, but the longer she chewed, the more distraught her face became until she was groaning in despair.
“They’re still no good.” The exclamation was followed by her head collapsing into her hands and a sigh of sadness escaping her lungs. “Why can’t I get it right?”
Max couldn’t bear to see her in pain, especially when it wasn’t warranted. “Lucy. They taste absolutely amazing, and I know for a fact we followed the recipe exactly. We even measured the ingredients twice.” He rubbed soothing circles on her back for a moment before she raised her eyes to him.
They were wet and red, a few tears escaping as she sniffled and shook her head in dismay. “They taste nothing like they’re supposed to. They don’t taste like mums,” she croaked out.
Understanding dawned on him as he gazed upon her sad face. “Oh, my darling.”
Max pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried.
Her fingers bunched into his jumper, and she clung to him, her chest heaving and the occasional gut-wrenching sob escaping her mouth.
Hearing it caused a pain he didn’t know was possible to slice through his chest. Her pain was now his pain, and he couldn’t stand to know that she was feeling this way.
As hard as it was to see her drowning in her sorrow, it did help to explain why she had made batch after batch of biscuit, never quite being satisfied with the result.
Lucy’s cries slowed and eventually stopped altogether.
When she pulled back, her face was splotchy red and wet, but she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
Reaching his thumbs up under her eyes, he started to wipe away her lingering tears.
She sniffled one last time and looked at his chest. “I got your jumper all wet,” she said miserably.
“Hang the jumper. I’ll buy a dozen more, and you can cry on all of those as well.” When she huffed a laugh, he counted it as a win. Cupping her face, he kissed her lips briefly before pulling back and staring into her eyes. “I think I’ve discovered what’s wrong with the biscuits.”
“You have?” Her eyes were so hopeful he almost felt bad they would be dashed in another moment, but she needed to hear what he had to say.
Max nodded. “I do.” He reached over and held up one of her cookies.
“The recipe is the same as it always has been, and the biscuits have turned out the same as they always do, but you’re different now.
The only thing you taste when you take a bite of these is your grief.
You miss your mother, and your grandparents, and that’s okay.
It’s also no surprise that something you all used to do together, a tradition centered on family, would change just as your family did. ”
Lucy’s mouth twisted as if she would cry again, but she took a deep breath and seemed to push past it. “That makes sense,” she said, lifting one of the biscuits before dropping it back on the tray. “Do you think that means they’ll never taste the same again?”
Max pulled Lucy into his arms again and rested his head on top of hers.
“They may not, but I suspect it’s more likely they’ll start to taste the same once you find the same joy you had before.
” He turned and looked out the window. The world was still buried in white, but mercifully, the snow had stopped and given them enough of a reprieve that it gave Max an idea.
There was just enough daylight left to make it possible, and more than he needed anything in that moment, he needed to make Lucy happy. “Do you have a sled?”
“A sled?” she asked, her breath skating across his chest. In other circumstances, the feeling of it might have led his mind down another path, but right now his initial thought was far more important.
Max smiled. “Yes, you know one of those things made of wood. They’re often curved at the end and people use them to fly down hills.” Lucy pinched his side and he yelped like a cat, but the smile that danced across her face after she did it was worth the embarrassment.
“I know what a sled is, smartarse,” she said, her eyes looking much brighter and clearer than they had moments ago. “And yes, I have one.”
“Good,” he told her. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of the kitchen toward the stairs that led to the second floor.
“Get changed. We’re going out to create some of that joy you’ve been missing.
” From the bright smile on Lucy’s face as she turned and went into her bedroom, Max wondered if maybe he hadn’t already helped her find some of it.