Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

FIFTY-SEVEN

I was so deep in my own thoughts that I was completely unprepared when the door opened slightly and Max slipped inside the bedroom.

He smiled at me, amusement making his eyes twinkle, as he closed the door behind him. He dropped a small white plastic bag on the floor just inside the door before quickly walking up to the bed, slowing down to lean in and gently capturing my lips with his. The kiss was slow and thorough, his hands moving from my cheeks to bury in my hair.

He groaned with disappointment when he forced himself to pull away. Leaning his forehead against mine, I took in the beautiful blush on his cheeks and smiled at him shyly.

He returned my smile and whispered, "Stop thinking so much. You're hurting my head."

My smile brightened and I lifted my hands to his head to guide his mouth back to mine for another, more extended, kiss.

The duvet had fallen away from my raised upper body, but even though the air in the room was cool, my body was heating up while engulfed in his love.

Our breathing was loud, the breaths dancing around each other in the space between our faces as I pulled back, letting my hands slide slowly down his face, down his neck. "What did your dad want?"

A whisper of seriousness moved over Max's features before he replied, "Dad wants to talk to us."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "Both of us?"

Max nodded and kissed me again, briefly but tenderly. "Even though it pains me to say this... Get dressed, Parker."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, and watched - to my body's disappointment - Max reinforcing the interruption of our intimate moment by straightening and initiating a treasure hunt for my clothes. During that process he retrieved the plastic bag that he had dropped earlier, thrust it into my hands while stating "Isabel told me not to look" even though I could see in his mind that he had already taken a peek.

It was silly how I still could get embarrassed, considering how intimate we were and had been, when I found new underwear and a white top inside the bag and knew that Max had seen it. But he efficiently nipped that embarrassment in the bud by grabbing the bag out of my hands, pulling out the white cotton panties, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me before dropping them in my lap.

It took me five minutes to get dressed. Which is a lot longer than my regular 20 or 30 seconds. Mostly due to the fact that Max was intent on 'helping me out', which I very quickly realized was not the most efficient manner in which to get dressed.

By the end of those five minutes, I was hot and bothered, desire curling hotly in the center of my body, and I was plagued by the yearning to remove all those clothes we had just struggled so much to get on.

I saw his jaw muscles clench in attempt to hide the grin on his face as he caught the hot desire in my eyes (and most probably also in my mind) and reached out to grab my hand.

I shook my head at him with a firm scowl. "A tease, Max Evans. You're a tease."

But I couldn't be mad at him when he was looking so adorable; that poorly hidden grin of his turning into a smile.

"And you're stunning, Liz Parker."

With that, he tugged on my hand, and - presenting a unified front - we exited the room and walked downstairs. The flutter of that familiar nervousness began in the pit of my stomach and moved up to my chest the closer we got to the living room.

Philip Evans was there, seated in a black leather armchair, calmly watching our approach.

"Take a seat," he said evenly, gesturing towards the couch.