Part Ten

Morning sunlight through Isabel's living room curtains momentarily blinds me, until a figure steps between me and the glow. I blink once, then look up into Michael's face. For a moment, I've forgotten why he'd be staring down at me while I sleep, then I feel soft fabric beneath my hand. Glancing down, I see the top of Maria's head - she's still curled up against my chest, asleep. I look back to Michael and I can't read his expression. He's got a coffee cup in one hand and his eyes move slowly from me, to Maria, then back to me.

I refuse to look away in embarrassment. I refuse to be ashamed that I love Maria.Oh, God. I just admitted that I love her. I swallow at the self- revelation, but don't break my gaze with Michael. I don't know what he's going to say or do. I don't know if he's upset or happy for us. I suddenly don't know anything.

Isabel slips in beside him, silently, and loops her arm through his. He doesn't turn to look at her, but takes one last glance at the small blond in my arms. Before he allows my sister to move him away, I think he smiles. I'm not sure of that because Michael smiling is never an obvious act.

When they are gone from the apartment, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. It's better this way, that he knows about us. I don't want to keep secrets from him - that would be both patronizing and condescending. I can't treat someone who has saved my life countless times like that. There will never be secrets between Michael and me.

With the slightest of sighs, Maria starts to stir. I look down at her in anticipation, just waiting to see those gorgeous green eyes first thing in the morning. I've never shared this experience with her, the emergence from sleep and I can't wait to find out what it's like. She draws in a deep breath as the rhythm of slumber abates and her body adjusts to being awake.

She stretches, arching her back, her body pushing into mine, and lets out the breath. I smile, wanting that to be the first thing she sees. Finally, she opens her eyes no wider than small slits, blinks twice, then smiles in return. I can't help it - my smile grows wider as I brush her mussed hair from her face.

"Good morning," I say, keeping my hands on either side of her face.

"Morning," she mumbles, still smiling, and closes her eyes again. She snuggles against me, burrowing into my embrace, but I know she's not going back to sleep. She's just a slow riser, apparently.

So I wait, patiently, while she shakes the cobwebs from her head. The room is silent except for the ticking of a clock on Isabel's mantle. After a few minutes, Maria lays her hand against my chest and I feel that familiar jolt in my stomach at her touch. I could lie here forever, I think. Her fingers make a short back-and-forth pattern over my shirt, then she wraps her arm around me and pulls me tight to her.

Okay, so it's first thing in the morning, I'm a guy, and I've got a hot babe grinding against me. The reaction is natural. Maria pulls back slightly, her smile a little more devious this time. My ears burn as I blush.

"Well, it is a good morning, isn't it?" she laughs, her voice still hoarse.

I laugh more out of embarrassment than anything.

But then she falls serious as she reaches up and touches my face. Of all of the girlfriends I've had (all two of them) I don't recall any of them touching my face as much as Maria does. It's her unique form of displaying her affection, I think. Silent, her face showing deep concentration, she traces my eyebrows, then my eyelashes; her index finger trails a path down the bridge of my nose, falling off to follow my lip. I watch her mutely while she conducts her exploration. "What happened?" I ask her softly.

Her green eyes meet mine and her eyebrows rise silently in question.

"Last night," I clarify. "What sent you over here in the middle of the night?" I give her a crooked smile. "Not that I minded."

One corner of her mouth lifts in a half smile and her hand drops back to my chest; I miss her touch immediately.

"Did something happen at the wedding?"

She shakes her head. "No, nothing like that." She glances away for a moment, like she's searching for the right words. "I've always had a hard time with weddings," she finally confesses. "I watch the bride and the groom and they look so happy together." Her eyes widen and I know she's wondering if she's hurt me by mentioning that Liz is happy with someone else. She hasn't. Relieved, she continues, "And then I think about people I know who've gotten married."

I caress her cheek with my thumb. "What about them?"

She draws in a breath. "Well, my parents were pretty much a bust. My dad bailed when I was just a kid. Kyle's mom did the same. Countless others, Max. And then I wonder if it ever works for anyone. Will it work out for Liz? Am I just witnessing something that is temporary?"

I think I know where she is coming from, but I prod her to continue anyway. "What does that have to do with you?"

Maria looks away, debating if she should reveal her feelings to me. I'm glad she decides she can. "I have to believe it works out for somebody, Max. Because then there's hope it will work for me."

I hadn't expected that. It explains the feelings of vulnerability I got from her last night - she wants someone stable, who won't leave her like every other man in her past has. To an extent, that includes Michael - granted, he left her for a good reason, but he still left her. She's afraid of being abandoned.

I see fear in her eyes, the kind of fear that comes from thinking you've revealed too much and the person you revealed it to might just run for the nearest exit. I shake my head slowly, in determination.

"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her.

Then I see relief in those beautiful eyes and the slightest trace of a tear. Before I can even smile at her, her lips are on mine and there is nothing vulnerable about her kiss. I give a little gasp of surprise, which causes her to laugh while she kisses me. Pulling away, she takes my face between her hands and touches my forehead with hers.

"I think I'm in love with you, Max Evans."

My heart is suddenly racing in my chest, a huge adrenaline rush caused by the kiss, our closeness and her admission. "Me, too," I admit stupidly.

Her brow furrows. "You're in love with yourself?" she jokes.

"Yes, I mean, no," I stammer. I give her a hopeless grin. "No, Maria. I'm in love with you."

A tear slides silently down her cheek. I give her a gentle smile and wipe it away.

"Who's here?" she asks quietly.

"Just you and me."

"How long will they be gone?"

I shrug. "All day, I think. I think they went to work."

She pushes herself away from me and I immediately feel cold without her body to warm me. I watch, amazed, as she gets up from the couch, her once- pretty dress now wrinkled and creased. She looks down at it as well, like she's looking at a broken heirloom, the slightest of frowns on her face. In a move I totally didn't anticipate, she reaches behind herself and the room is filled with the scratch of the zipper being pulled down. Then she takes the dress around the waist and in a rustle of satin, pulls it over her head.

My mouth drops open involuntarily. She's wearing a thin, lacy bra and a pair of matching panties. Her body is tight, more defined than I'd expected it would be - her clothes are deceiving. She looks at me, her gaze unabashed, then reaches a hand in my direction. Fingers shaking, I take it. She pulls me to my feet, then leads me down the hallway.

In the bathroom, she turns on the shower, then turns to face me. For the first time, she looks shy. "I need a shower," she admits. "Before we.um."

I smile at her. I get it. "Okay," I agree.

"Do you want to." She looks over her shoulder at the shower door. "Do you want to come in with me?"

I nod. "I could use a shower, too."

She grins in relief. I show her which toothbrush is mine and we share it. Then the serious expression returns as she goes about the task of disrobing both of us. She pulls my T-shirt over my head, her eyes going immediately to my chest. Those curious fingers explore all areas slowly, sensuously, as they work their way down to my boxers. Stooping, she pulls them down to my feet. I kick them off as she rises, her head bent as she surveys the new territory. Standing there, totally exposed to her, I don't feel in the slightest bit uncomfortable. I just feel loved.

She smiles up at me, then reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. The dainty lace garment flutters to the floor and is soon followed by the panties. In the shower, we explore every inch of each other, kissing, tasting, touching. But we save consummation until the shower is over and we've moved on to Isabel's bed.

Time stands still as we tumble in Isabel's fluffy white blankets, which smell faintly of her perfume. I feel like the world has stopped and there aren't billions of people in the outside world going about their daily activities. There's only the two of us, here, now, together.

I like that the first time we make love is in the daylight. For the briefest moment, I think of the fact that Liz and I only had sex at night, in the dark, and that I never really got to experience her body in the full, harsh light of day. Maybe it was a modesty thing. Maybe it was just bad timing and never really planned that way. But that is the last time I think of Liz in an intimate way.

Because Maria is not afraid of the harsh light of day. She doesn't care that bright sunlight not only reveals all of her perfections but also her flaws. There's a scar on one of her hips and I'm curious how she got it. Sometime when I can retain the thought and am not distracted by the wonderful things she's doing with her hands and mouth, I'll have to ask her about it. Scars or no scars, she's beautiful to me. And she always will be.

I watch her face as she sits astride me, her long legs bent at the knee and doubled beneath her. I place my hands on her knees, just wanting to feel the silkiness of her skin. Placing her hands over mine, her eyes lock on mine and stay that way while she moves, her breath coming in little short gasps. I smile at her, but she's too far gone to smile back. Eventually, her movements quicken and her head falls back as her eyes close, savoring the sensation. She's close and I want to witness every second of it.

Then she arches her back, draws in a sharp gasp as her head falls even farther back. Her nails dig into the tops of my hands and I shortly thereafter follow her over the edge.

She collapses on top of me then slides down so that she is lying half beside me, half on top of me. Electricity is running through my veins, that heightened awareness that comes with sexual release. I don't let her get too far away as I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly, kiss her hair. We're both sweaty again - we need another shower.

But for now I just hold her against me, feeling her heart beating against my ribs as it slows back to a normal rate. I feel spent, exhausted, but I want to spend every moment possible with her. Without looking up, she touches my face, pulling her fingers over my eyelids so that they close. She wants to sleep. I go willingly. Because from here on, wherever she goes, I will go.