Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 39

She crawled quickly to the edge and looked in, dreading the sight of him lying on the barn floor. But he had fallen only as far as the loft. True, it was forty feet closer to the roof, which was a good thing. The fall he'd taken was only about twenty feet. Still, major injuries could have occurred.

"Max!" she yelled down at him. The toolbox, thankfully, had landed beside him, and none of the tools had hit him that she could tell. "Say something!"

"Son of a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!"

Okay, that worked.

"Where are you hurt?"

"All over."

"Are you bleeding?"

"No." But he sounded majorly p.i.s.sed off. "My f.u.c.king knee!"

s.h.i.t. Bree fumbled in her pocket for her phone and dialed 911. "I need an ambulance at Montgomery Farms, main barn," she told the dispatch.

"Hang in there," she called to him. "Someone's coming!"

"Well, at least it stopped raining," he said.

What? Bree looked up. She hadn't even noticed that the pummeling rain had faded into a light drizzle. Not that she would have noticed, considering every single inch of her was wet and cold and felt like it would be for the next ten years.

Twenty minutes later, Max was out of the loft and cleared by the paramedics. He hadn't broken anything and didn't have a concussion. Which was a miracle.

"Just take him home and warm him up," Clay Simons told her. He clapped Max on the back. "He just needs lots of TLC." He gave them both a wink and headed out for the ambulance.

Max and Bree didn't talk as they got into his truck, her in the driver's seat, him on the pa.s.senger side.

He pulled out his phone and placed a call. "Get your a.s.ses to the farm and fix the f.u.c.king roof right now or I swear to G.o.d, I'll come over there and nail the shingles to you," he told whoever answered.

Bree pressed her lips together and simply drove. Max was hot when he was p.i.s.sed off and being the big bad boss.

Then again, she thought he was hot most of the time. Even soaking wet and hurt.

At her house, they didn't talk about it, but Max headed straight for her bathroom to shower. He shed his clothes on his way up the stairs. She gathered them for the dryer, catching a glimpse of his bare a.s.s as he disappeared around the corner at the top, but she was much more focused on his p.r.o.nounced limp. Dammit, he'd been hurt. Saving her. Because she'd been taking another risk. But she'd been right. She was safe as long as he was around.

He came down with a towel around his waist.

He looked so good, so right in her house, half-dressed, helping himself to a beer, that for a second she couldn't breathe.

She was in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt she'd pulled out of the laundry basket when she'd put their clothes in the dryer. She was 90 percent sure they were clean.

Finally, he came to stand in front of her. He hadn't taken a drink of the beer yet. His golden skin stretched taut over hard muscles. Scratches and scars showed all over his torso-a few from today, several from past days. Bree wanted to kiss every one of them.

"I'm going to Oklahoma City tomorrow."

Her gaze flew from the scar under his right collarbone to his eyes. Her heart fell. He was still planning to leave. Even after what she'd said about him having to be here to really know her. Even after Maggie's photos. Even after . . . everything.

Well, fine. She'd only been to Oklahoma once. But it had seemed nice. "I'm coming with you."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"I will just-" Then his words sank in. "You were?"

"I'm going to need someone to kick my a.s.s during rehab, and no one has ever pushed me like you do to do more and try harder and go farther."

She blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to get my knee fixed."

Bree looked down at his knee. "What? Fixed?"

He sighed. "There are no guarantees. The pain won't get better, might get worse, but the mobility should improve, and I need that."

"You don't have to do that for me," she said softly. "I can slow down."

"What do you think this is going to be?" he asked. "Just night after night of cuddling on the couch?"

She saw the smile teasing the corners of his mouth, but she nodded anyway. "I like cuddling on the couch with you."

"Yeah, and I like chasing you around and making sure you don't break your neck," he said. "But if I don't fix this knee, you're going to kill me."

"You idiot," she said with a choked laugh. "You could be in a wheelchair and I would still love you."

He shrugged.

She stepped close and took his face in her hands. "You're enough, Max. You're everything I want and need. You've always been everything I want and need."

He looked into her eyes. "Thank you," he said simply, clearly accepting her words.

Her shoulders slumped in relief.

"But this isn't about that now," he added.

She frowned. "Then what-"

"Bree, my knee was a problem today," he interrupted. "It's not usually. But that's because I'm okay with other people doing the stupid climbing s.h.i.t. With you-"

"You feel like you have to protect me."

"I thought that's what it was," he agreed. "Now I know it's because I don't want to miss anything. You make everything more fun and exciting, and there isn't anything I love seeing more in this world than your face lighting up. That's why I always want to be right beside you for everything. Not to keep you safe, necessarily, though I'll certainly do that whenever needed, but because you make me live my life fully. And I don't want to miss a minute."

Max felt his heart flip as Bree's eyes welled with tears.

He cupped her face. "So I'm going to Oklahoma City to my knee surgeon, and I'm going to have him fix this thing. And after I'm rehabbed and cleared, I'm going to pack up my house and move home. And I'm going to convince you to marry me, and I promise you won't get bored." He leaned in and kissed her. "After all, we're going to have fourteen kids, three dogs, four cats, and maybe even some alpacas, along with all of our usual adventures."

"Alpacas?"

"That'd be new, right?" he teased.

"Uh . . . yeah."

He grinned at the way her eyebrows rose, then he dipped his head and kissed her again, longer and deeper this time. He started slow, but that didn't last. It only took one little sigh from her to heat his blood and make him drop his hands to her a.s.s and lift her against him.

She seemed to melt, her body molding to his, her mouth soft but hot under his. She sighed against his mouth as he started to slide up her shirt, his hand gliding over her silky skin.

"This is the hot fudge."

That made him pause. He lifted his head. "What?"

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "This is the hot fudge and whipped cream and cherries. It just goes on top of the Sweet Cream Dream."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, our friendship is the Sweet Cream Dream-it's what I always go back to, what I want regularly, what I know is always good. The s.e.x-amazing, hot, and sweet-just adds to that. And the Grand Canyon is like b.u.t.terscotch Blitz, and skydiving is like Cinnamon Sin, and skiing is like White Chocolate Whip." She gestured to the coffee table.

For the first time, Max realized there were multiple bowls on the table besides the two with the sundaes from earlier. Of course everything was completely melted, but it was easy to tell that each bowl was filled with a different kind of ice cream.

He let go of her, studying the table. "I don't understand."

"You're not Sweet Cream Dream to me, Max," Bree said, putting her hand on his cheek. "You're ice cream."

"I'm ice cream?"

She laughed lightly and nodded. "My favorite thing, the thing that makes me feel the best, the thing that can change up its flavors depending on my mood but is really, underneath, always the same." She rubbed her hand over his jaw. "You're ice cream to me, Max. And I've had ice cream every night for all of my adult life. Over and over again and never once gotten tired of it or wanted something else instead."

Max felt her words rock through him.

She did like something over and over again, in all its many flavors.

It was like her adrenaline addiction. She liked the rush, over and over again. But there were many ways of getting it, and she'd tried them all.

He was her ice cream.

He wanted all of that to be true so much that his entire being seemed focused on that-not on keeping him breathing, or his heart beating, or more trivial things like speech. He couldn't speak or move for several long seconds.

"Max?" Bree finally asked, her forehead wrinkling. "Are you okay?"

"You planned this? To have all of this ice cream here?"

She nodded. "I had to go to the store, but I wanted to show you what I'd realized. This is my celebration of you moving home. I get to have all of this, all of these kinds, whatever flavor I'm in the mood for, even multiple flavors at once, every day forever. Because it's all you." She paused, searching his eyes. "This was supposed to be really romantic."

She was trying to be romantic for him. Again.

Just when he'd realized he'd give up everything to have her, she was giving him everything he'd ever wanted. He'd never been more okay in his life.

"But you think you need hot fudge to make Sweet Cream Dream even better?" he asked.

She gave him a bright, relieved smile. "Hot fudge makes everything better."

"I think I'm going to have to prove you wrong on that."

Before she could process that, he slid his hands up under her shirt and slipped it off over her head. When she'd dressed, she hadn't bothered with a bra. Thank G.o.d.

Max's hands went to the waistband of her pants, and he quickly had them off as well. He walked her backward until the backs of her thighs. .h.i.t the arm of the couch. He gave her a wicked smile and then pushed her gently. She fell back, landing on the cushions with a soft laugh.

He reached for her panties, pulling the pale blue silk down her legs and over her feet, dropping the sc.r.a.p of material next to the end table.

Then he knelt beside the couch and reached for the bowl of nearly melted Sweet Cream Dream on the coffee table.

"You make everything better," he told her, lifting the spoon.

Her eyes got wide-in that Oh yeah, bring it on way he loved-as she realized what he was going to do a millisecond before he tipped the spoon, letting a drizzle of ice cream hit her left breast.

Her nipple tightened instantly, and she gasped, but he didn't think it was from the temperature of the ice cream. It was purely because of the heat between them. He held her gaze as he tilted the spoon over her other breast, letting the ice cream drop onto that nipple as well. He dipped into the bowl again, scooping up more of the gooey cream, then letting it dribble over her stomach, into her belly b.u.t.ton, and down over her mound.

Bree shifted restlessly. "Max."

He grinned. Hot fudge, indeed. "I might not be able to tell the difference when I lick this ice cream off you," he told her, letting the sticky trail of cream drip onto her c.l.i.t and then trickle deliciously between her legs. "You already taste pretty d.a.m.ned sweet."

"Max." She arched off the cushion, but Max didn't touch her yet.

He set the bowl back on the table. The sight of her, covered in swirls of Sweet Cream Dream, was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Mostly because of the desire he saw in her eyes when he met her gaze.

Clearly, l.u.s.t and romance could, indeed, go together. Cuddling on the couch was great. But this was going to go to the top of the list of favorite couch activities.

"What flavor was the s.e.x in the locker room?" he asked, swirling his finger through the ice cream on her stomach.

The question didn't faze her. She smiled. "Peanut b.u.t.ter Cookie Crush. No question."

He leaned in and licked up the trail of Sweet Cream that surrounded her left nipple. She gasped, her hand going to the back of his head. But he lifted it anyway.

"And what flavor was the other night in my bedroom?"

She was breathing faster now, but she seemed to give that some thought. "It was Sweet Cream," she decided. "With a Snickers bar cut up and mixed in."

At that, Max puffed out a short laugh. She really did know ice cream and everything related to it.

He licked around the other nipple and followed the trail partway down her stomach.

"So what you're saying is that I can have plain Sweet Cream, Sweet Cream with Snickers, Peanut b.u.t.ter whatever along with regular charades with our friends, family dinners, and three dogs?" he asked, running his finger through the ice cream that led to her belly b.u.t.ton and then lower. Before he got to her c.l.i.t, he lifted his hand and licked his finger.

When he looked up at her, Bree's cheeks were flushed with desire and her breathing was uneven.

She nodded. "Along with Red Velvet Rush, Almond Mocha Madness, and Strawberry Shazam."

He quirked a smile. "Strawberry Shazam? I might have to work up to that one."