The Billionaire Playboy's Regret (Lark and Max)

11

Lark looked around Max's living area and whistled. "Wow."

"Thanks." He motioned down the hall. "I'll show you the guest room. It has its own private bath. You can get showered in there. Johan usually stays there. He's the only other person who has a key here." "Ollie doesn't?"

"No. None of my family do because they don't understand what the hell a boundary is," Max grunted. "I gave her a key once, but she came in here unannounced while I was busy."

"With a woman?"

He frowned. "No. I was in the middle of a research project, and I needed to focus. I was working from home because there were too many interruptions in the office. She barged in here and wouldn't get the heck out and I ended up not getting a damn thing done. She stayed three days. I took my key from her and changed all the locks and passcodes." He frowned at her, "I know you think I'm Man-w***e Max, but I swear I don't screw around as much as you think I do." "You used to."

"Again, I was a high school boy with p***y being thrown at him on

near constant basis. Can you name

one teenage boy who wasn't in a relationship who would have refused it? Since high school, my interactions have been far less exciting." "You have double digits, Max."

"If you consider the fact, I'm nearly thirty and I graduated university at twenty-one, and I've had six steady lovers since then, I don't think I'm too much of a whore."

She frowned, "you've only had six regular lovers in nine years?"

"Yes. Six lovers. I did have four singular blow jobs and two one-night stands, but both of those situations were on a bachelor party weekend in Vegas for a colleague. I admit to being fully wrecked that weekend. Oona was the first one night I've done in a year."

"Whose bachelor parties?" "My CFO."

Something about his posture told her he was holding something back, "what aren't you saying?" When he looked away, she threw her hands up in the air and started walking in the direction of where he earlier pointed the guest room.

"It was a year ago, Lark. When you moved in with Doug, your father was at my office, and he was telling me and your Dad how excited you were to be moving in with him and how much he and Everly hated the guy, but you were head over heels in love. I was doing then what Ollie is doing right now. Drowning sorrows in the nearest available body."

She froze in her footsteps, her fingers reaching out to the wall unable to turn around and look at him. It shouldn't hurt this much. He wasn't hers back then. Hell, he wasn't hers now.

"I slept with two different girls on two different nights and received two blowjobs from two other women, one in the club where we were partying and one in a limo from the girl who was actually driving the limo." "Jesus Christ, Max!" she spun on her heel. "What is wrong with you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know but I'm working on finding out. I have another therapy session on Monday." "Ugh!" she slapped the wall, glowering. "Why are you telling me though? I don't want the specifics."

"I need you to know the specifics because you don't trust me, and I want to be open and honest with you. I know I messed up."

"We weren't even friends then. It doesn't matter." She turned on her heel knowing her words were truthful. She had no right to be angry with him. "I need to get cleaned up."

"Okay. I'll drop a change of clothes for you on the bed and then I'm going to get changed. I'll meet you back out here."

"Sure." She shook her head, hating how much it hurt to acknowledge she couldn't rightfully judge him for what he did when she moved in with another man.

"Lark," he called her name. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not seeing you."

Now she was completely frozen at his statement. "How do you mean?"

"I never noticed it. I was so caught up in my own feelings of rejection. I really believed you thought I was nothing more than a sibling and you were embarrassed by the way people always thought we were together. I missed out on seeing what was right in front of me. Not seeing you, not seeing how you really felt, drove a wedge between us. I wish I could go back in time and fix it."

"But you can't," she whispered, her voice cracking at how much she needed to hear the sincerity in his apology and hearing it now was like a balm to her soul. Her conversation with her grandmother from earlier in the day played in her head. She needed to listen and to understand or she could lose something incredibly special. She took a breath, "you can't go back Max." She heard the way his breath huffed and continued speaking not allowing him to interrupt, "We can only move forward and I'm willing to try to fix our friendship and see where it leads but I can't make you any promises."

She hadn't heard his footsteps coming behind her and when he put his palms atop her shoulders, standing behind her, she took a shuddering breath.

"Thank you, chère," he whispered at her ear, his head leaned forward by her cheek. "I promise you won't regret it."

"I better not. I made Oona cry without even trying. Imagine what I'll do to you if I do try."

He gave a warm chuckle and then kissed her cheek and then pulled away, smacking his lips, "s**t, I forgot you have that crap all over your face. I'm sure we've gone way past the recommended time for this stuff." She giggled and turned to face him, wiping the now grey clumpy stuff off his bottom lip. "I'm going to get showered. I'll meet you back here. We can talk some more."

"I would like this very much."

"Me too." She admitted, her heart suddenly feeling light. This entire evening was going a long way to soothing her bruised heart.

Lark took a quick shower, enjoying all the products he kept stocked in his guest bath and when she came from the steamy bathroom, she grinned at the pair of basketball shorts and t shirt on the bed. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the scent of Max and smiled before donning the shirt. It almost hung to her knees. She was definitely stealing the shirt when she left.

She laughed as his shorts were not staying up and she crossed the hall and knocked on his closed bedroom door. "Uh Max, these shorts are not going to work. Do you have some with drawstrings or something?"

He pulled the door open, and she immediately salivated at the sight in front of her. Dressed in nothing but

a pair of black boxer briefs which hugged his c**k snugly, he was the epitome of a poster boy for underwear. He could be on any billboard across the country with the six pack abs, the narrow waist, and the wide shoulders. He reached out a thumb and wiped her bottom lip and it caused her to look up to his grinning face.

"Just getting that drool for you," he teased her.

"Shut up," she blushed hotly. "You could have put something on before opening the door."

"I could have but I didn't," he motioned to his closet. "Come on. I'll help you find a different pair. There's no string in those?

She let go of them and they pooled around her ankles, deciding two could play his game. "Nope."

"Fuck." He looked at her with a shake of his head, "uh, please don't ruin my fantasy and tell me you're wearing anything under my t-shirt?"

"Not a thing but I do need shorts to remedy the situation," she stepped out of the material on the floor and smugly walked to his closet knowing his shirt was riding high on her thighs.

"We could forgo shorts and you could let my overactive imagination run wild the rest of the night?" he tilted his head sideways as if trying to steal a peek.

She pulled some drawers opened in search of shorts. "Or I could wear these and really wreck you."

His loud groan told her she definitely should. "Lark, honey, you're killing me."

She shot a sideways look at him and let her gaze travel downwards, "you're looking pretty lively to me." "What are you doing?"

"You complained earlier I never flirted with you. I'm flirting. Do you want me to stop?"

"No. If it means I'm in a constant state of hardon for the rest of my life, don't you ever stop flirting with me."

"Good. Then I'm wearing these." She hopped into the pair of silk boxers she'd pulled from his underwear drawer, making sure the shirt she wore kept everything covered. "I like this closet. It's highly organized. I knew exactly where to find what I was looking for."

"You wanted to wear my underwear?"

"Better me wearing yours than you wearing mine." She winked at him. "I need a nightcap before I let you tuck me into the guest bed. Come on, Max Villeneuve. Make me a drink."

She put a little extra swing into her step as he followed her out of his closet and giggled when his arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her backwards against him. His nose nuzzled her neck, and she leaned her head sideways.

"You could let me tuck you into this bed right now and I'll bring the drink to you," he nodded in the direction of the king-sized bed taking center stage in his room.

"I could but this morning you were having very vivid dreams which left me trapped under you," she wriggled her bottom against his groin, "and this thing was clamouring for attention. I'm not ready to have s*x with you, Max and I don't want to be regretting in the morning. Flirting, a drink and then my own bed, please."

He kissed her neck and her eyes fluttered closed. He was making it difficult to keep her head on straight. "Deal but let me tell you, those dreams I was in this morning were more than vivid and I needed to come home and deal with the aftermath. If you wake up in the middle of the night and hear me jerking off, it's on you." He smacked her bottom playfully and walked past her towards the door, "and I'm not putting anything else on. If I'm going to have wicked dreams tonight, then so are you, my love." Lark decided she was super excited to see what came to her in her dreams tonight.