Chapter 14 Max
FOURTEEN
MAX
The air stings and feels colder than before, sharp against my lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the quiet buzzing in my chest. Eli didn’t flinch when I told him we’re just…
this. He smiled, threw crumbs at me, agreed with me, and let it slide off as though I hadn’t just drawn a line in the snow between us.
And that should make it easier. Cleaner. Except it doesn’t. It gnaws at me. Because he looked fine. Too fine. Like he’s already decided he can live with it, and meanwhile, I can’t stop replaying the way he laughed at me across the table, as if I was someone worth smiling at.
I’m stuck on that thought when something cold and wet explodes against the side of my coat.
I stop dead, blinking down at the splatter of snow sliding off my sleeve. Slowly, I lift my head.
Eli is grinning at me from a few feet back, hands already scooping another pile together. His cheeks are red, his eyes alight, and he’s got that little shit-eating smirk that should be illegal pulling at his lips.
“You did not just—”
The second snowball nails me in the chest.
“Think fast, Calder!” he crows, already darting sideways. His laughter rings out around us, making me warm even in the cold.
I lunge into the snowbank and come up with a handful, compacting it into a sloppy ball and hurling it at him. He shrieks when it bursts across his shoulder, laughing so hard he nearly falls into the drift.
And that’s all it takes. Game on.
The walk back turns into a battlefield, our laughter echoing down the empty street as snowballs fly. He’s quick, darting just out of reach, taunting me with every throw. I finally get close enough to grab him around the waist, tackling him into the powder.
We crash into a snow pile, both of us breathless and wheezing laughter, and my gloves clumsy as I pin him, but somehow still lose the upper hand. He twists, slippery as hell, and suddenly I’m the one flat on my back with him straddling me, snow sticking to my hair and coat.
He’s flushed, panting, grinning down at me as though he’s already won. And then he leans down and kisses me.
The cold disappears. The world disappears. There’s only the taste of him, warm and alive and impossible, and the way his smile presses against my mouth like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all along is everything.
His mouth is hot against mine, a shocking contrast to the ice melting down the back of my neck. I grab his hips without thinking, fingers tightening through the layers of his coat to anchor him to me. He laughs into the kiss, the sound bubbling against my lips, and then he kisses me harder.
I should roll us over. Take control. But he’s already braced on my chest, snowflakes clinging to his lashes, grinning from ear to ear as though he has me exactly where he wants me. Which—fuck—it turns out he does.
I open for him, and he doesn’t hesitate. His tongue slides against mine, sweet and demanding all at once, and I groan into it before I can stop myself. The sound makes him shiver, or maybe that’s the cold seeping into our clothes, though I’d bet it’s both.
Eli presses down, grinding just enough that my breath hitches.
Snow is everywhere—soaking into my jacket and hoodie, numbing my back, biting at my skin—but I can’t bring myself to care.
Not when his mouth is hot and insistent, not when he’s clutching fistfuls of my coat as if I might vanish if he lets go.
“Max,” he murmurs against my jaw, lips brushing lower until his teeth scrape just beneath my ear. It sends a jolt through me, sharp enough that my fingers dig into his sides, dragging him closer, needing more. It doesn’t feel cold anymore. No, we are melting the snow around us with our heat.
We’re both panting now, the air fogging between us as the kiss deepens into something that feels impulsive, desperate. His gloved hand drags up my cheek before threading into my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan again.
And God, the way he swallows that sound, kissing me as though the cold doesn’t exist, like the world doesn’t exist—it’s dangerous. Addictive. And everything I’ve ever wanted.
When we finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, both of us are breathless, snow melting fast around the heat we’re throwing off. He’s smiling again—smug, radiant, impossible—and I know I’m in more trouble than I’ve ever been in before.
By the time we stumble back into his room, we’re half-frozen, melted snow clinging to our hair and soaking through every layer. The Christmas lights blink weakly with the remaining battery power, but the glow is still enough to spill color across the space.
Eli tosses me a pair of joggers and a shirt from his dresser. “Here. Unless you wanna catch hypothermia and ruin my cozy aesthetic.”
I shoot him a look, but peel off my wet coat and hoodie anyway.
His shirt is soft, worn thin in places—and tight across my shoulders.
The hem rides up when I tug it down, clinging to my chest like it was made to show me off.
Eli’s eyes linger a beat too long before he quickly turns, pretending to fuss with his own clothes.
Once we’re changed, he climbs into bed first, burrowing under the heap of blankets. He pats the spot beside him, shivering. “Hurry up before I die of frostbite.”
I roll my eyes but slide in, the chill clinging to us both until I tug the blankets higher. He’s still trembling, small shivers that run through his frame. Without thinking, I wrap an arm around him, dragging him flush against me.
“Better?” I mutter.
He hums, already pressing his cold nose into my throat. “Warmer. You’re like a human furnace.”
“Lucky you,” I say dryly, though my hand stays splayed across his back, rubbing slow circles through the thin cotton. “How’s the groin?”
He groans. “Depends on what part you’re asking about… Are you asking as the Grinch or as Max?”
“What’s the difference?” I ask with curiosity.
“Obviously the Grinch is only concerned about my injury, which is fine by the way, both of them. Shoulder and groin. While Max might be interested in how warm he’s making me, uh, in that area.”
I snort and tug him closer. He’s impossible.
But the longer I hold him, the less it feels like we’re just sharing warmth.
His shivers soften into something else—little sparks that race between us, igniting all over again.
He tilts his head, lips brushing my jaw, tentative at first. Then bolder when I don’t stop him.
He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it as he releases it.
Fuck that feels good. I angle my head, giving him more access, as I drag him half on top of me.
“You’re still cold,” I murmur, voice rough.
“Then keep warming me up,” he breathes, kissing me full on the mouth this time.
The blankets trap our heat, our breaths turning heavy and fast as his hands wander under the hem of the shirt that’s definitely too tight. His touch drags over my ribs, my stomach, making goosebumps erupt along my skin in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.
When I roll him beneath me, the movement’s instinctive, the kiss already heated and desperate. His surprised laughter is muffled against my mouth.
His laugh melts into a sigh when I press him down into the mattress, our noses bumping before our mouths meet again, slower, deeper.
No snow, no biting cold between us now—just heat coiling low in my stomach as he moves beneath me.
I harden against him, the tantalizing feel of him hard enough to make me rub our hips together, drawing groans from both of us.
His fingers flow back down my body to toy with the hem of the shirt that barely fits me, slipping underneath to drag over my skin, and up my chest to remove it. Not frantic like last night. Exploring. Mapping me out.
“You really do look better in my clothes, but we’re going to have to take them off again,” Eli whispers, his lips brushing along my jaw. “It’s not fair that you’re so hot, Calder.”
I huff a laugh against his throat and nip at the warm skin there, just enough to make him shiver. “Stop talking.”
“Make me.”
So I do. I cover his mouth with mine, devouring every smug curve of his smile until it dissolves into soft, breathless sounds. He arches into me, arms looped tight around my neck, dragging me closer.
God, he tastes sweet—like chocolate and peppermint and sugar—and I groan into his mouth, already addicted. A problem I’ll deal with when the storm ends. For now, I let myself drown in his little winter-wonderland of a room, kissing him senseless, determined to wring my name from his lips again.
My hand drags down his stomach, fingertips skating over the tense lines of muscle until I cup him through the joggers. He strains against my palm, twitching as I squeeze once before pulling away, teasing. His frustrated whimper vibrates against my mouth.
I trail my hand back up, bunching his shirt as I go, until we’re both tugging at fabric, stripping away the clothes we only just put on.
His skin is fire under my palms, soft and hot, and I press kisses down the column of his throat, sucking at the sharp point of his Adam’s apple before moving lower.
Eli fists his hands in my hair, holding me to him as though he can’t risk letting me go.
My tongue circles one nipple, then the other, and he gasps, back arching, hips canting up in search of friction.
His body responds to every lick, every scrape of my teeth, and the helpless sounds spilling from him make my chest ache with want.
His fingers tighten in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan against his chest. Every sound he gives me goes straight down my spine to my balls, igniting something hot and primal. But this time I don’t rush. I want to feel every inch of him, drag this out until we’re both shaking with it.