have a perfectly fine bed?” She hopped up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up off the couch. Both dogs lifted their heads in anticipation.
“Stay,” he said firmly, which, of course, never worked, and in this case, enticed the two lazy hounds to get on their feet, too. With a shriek of delight, Carly ran down the hall, trying to outrun them. Max followed her, looking back as the dogs pursued them, and crashing into the door when he turned to see how close they were. He managed to slam it shut just as the dogs reached them.
Carly pressed her ear to the door. “They’re right there,” she said, panting a little. “I can hear Baxter sniffing.”
Max laughed. He suddenly caught her by the waist and lifted her up off her feet, swinging her around and away from the door, then marching her backward to her bed. They fell together, laughing at their silliness. On the other side of the door, one of the dogs barked.
Max sat up. “Do you have a bone or something I could give them?”
“No! Baxter snacks on carrots—”
“My God, woman, when will you learn? A dog needs his treats.” With a growl, Max launched himself at her.
She pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants, then pushed him and rolled on top of him. From this vantage point, he could see her room—the overstuffed closet. The sheer curtains. The Post-its and pictures taped to her vanity mirror.
She undid the buckle of his belt.
Max came up on his elbows and watched her unfasten the button and unzip the fly.
“Do you have a condom?”
Her gaze flicked up. She suddenly hopped off him and the bed, went to her vanity, and reached down next to it. She held up a plastic sack, then tossed it onto the bed.
Max opened the bag and looked inside. There was a box of tampons, a new tube of toothpaste, and a box of condoms. He pulled out the box and looked at it. “Economy size,” he said appreciatively.
“I was getting prepared for a long and happy relationship.” She pulled her dress over her head, then shimmied out of the tights she was wearing. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra. “Any more questions?”
Max kicked off his shoes and began to push his jeans down his hips. “Yeah . . . what are we waiting for?”
Carly climbed onto the bed. And then his hands were on her, moving over her body, tweaking her, caressing her, biting her. She wrapped her fingers around his erection, and everything disappeared for Max. They moved like this for a time, rolling one way, and the other, so that no part of their bodies were left untouched. And then he groped for that giant box of condoms.
Carly’s release was long and slow, and he took great pleasure in it, aroused beyond reason. When he looked at her, he could feel the flow between them, the silent communication, the mutual expectations and regard. He had never felt that sort of connection with anyone else, and he wondered again, was this love? Forget the chemical reaction—was this love, that thing that pushed all rational thought aside and drove men to do things they might never do? Was it love that made this feel momentous and slightly desperate and unworldly? It wasn’t just corporeal—it was more transcendent than that. It was weird, this thing called love—you didn’t see it, you didn’t hear it, but suddenly, you just were.
If he didn’t believe it, all he had to do was look at her and the way she gazed at him now. She made him believe.
When they had both found their release, neither of them spoke for a very long time. He felt like they were tumbling back down the mountain, a free fall into reality. But eventually, she moved. She stroked his back, then kissed his shoulder. “What was that?”
Love. That was love, Carly.
“Whatever it was, it was fantastic,” she said, and kissed his shoulder blade.
But everything was not fantastic.
Max woke up in a cold sweat in the early morning hours to the sound of two snoring dogs. He vaguely remembered Carly letting them in the room.
She was curled on her side, her back pressed against him, her skin warm and surprisingly fragrant.
He stroked her arm, then heard someone in his head say, “You’re dating your stepsister?”
It sounded like cheesy porn.
Nineteen
Max left Carly’s house before dawn, smothering her with kisses and whispering that she should meet him at Barkin’ Springs as