Chapter Twenty-Three
October 11th, 7:45
P aloma’s body hummed as she climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s truck. The sound of him closing her door echoed through her. He walked around the front of the truck, his movements purposeful and controlled. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the small space of the cab seemed to shrink even further, filled with the heat of his proximity and the lingering scent of his cologne.
He didn’t seem the type who liked when a woman shoved her hands down his pants without foreplay or warning, so she took a subtler approach, playing with the anticipation he seemed to love. She ran her fingers along the outside seam of his jeans. Starting at the knee and stopping mid-thigh, each stroke moving higher and higher.
Switching, she traced along the inside stitching. He sucked in a breath but didn’t tell her to stop. Good. And going by the way he kept shifting in his seat, and his erection was clearly defined through his jeans, he didn’t mind.
But to tease him, she stilled her hand and asked, “Do you want me to stop? You really should focus on the road.”
His jaw c lenched and unclenched, a muscle twitched in his cheek. He shifted again, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “I’m focused on the damn road,” he said, his voice low and rough. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t stop.”
“Ooh, someone’s bossy.” And she liked it.
By the time he pulled into the underground parking lot of the condo, she had his jeans completely unzipped and her hand wrapped around his erection, stroking him.
Or she did until he swung the truck into the parking spot. Then he shut it off and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her with a feral intensity that was perfect. He moved to the hollow at the base of her throat, just above where the collarbones meet, and licked before kissing her.
She gasped, “How did you know?”
He chuckled against her skin. “I pay attention to what you like, to what makes you react.” He met her eyes. “And I want to know everything about you, Paloma. Not just this.”
The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch. “Everything, huh? I might be more than you bargained for.”
“I’m counting on it,” he murmured before capturing her lips again. “I should take my time and savor you. But I swear if you were wearing a skirt, I take you right here in this truck.”
“And I’d let you,” she panted. “Hell, I’m considering it. Let someone see my bare ass, as long as your hands are on it.”
She’d meant every word . . . until a nearby car door slammed, followed by conversation. A grin pulled at the corners of his sexy mouth. “Still feel the same?” he asked.
“Maybe not.” She slid off his lap.
“Let’s get inside.” He tucked himself back in his jeans and looked into his rearview mirror. “I hope we don’t run into the people we just heard.”
“Why? ”
He motioned to the front of his pants, where his erection was very noticeable. She licked her lips, and he growled, pulling her gaze to his face. His eyes flamed an inferno, making her want to push him into the elevator or under the stairs and have her way with him.
Instead, she joked, “Don’t worry, you can hide behind me.”
“I don’t think your stunning ass pressed against my dick would be a good solution right now,” he replied.
Thankfully, nobody was in the elevator. Once the door closed, his gaze landed on the camera in the corner. “Fuck,” he muttered, pulling a laugh from Paloma. Until now, Max had rarely sworn.
His eyes narrowed, and he pulled her to him, doing the exact thing he said they shouldn’t do—holding her ass to his front. From the camera’s angle, the embrace probably looked innocent, but what he was doing to her was not. He trailed kisses down her earlobe, gently nipping as he went. His teeth and tongue traced the ridges of her spine, each touch igniting sparks beneath her skin. All the while rocking subtly against her. She pressed into him, ripping a quiet, delicious moan from him.
The elevator door slid open. He roughly walked them forward, holding his hand to her waist. She loved his intensity and need, the way it matched hers.
They were inside the condo in no time. The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The faint hum of the heat clicking on mingled with their heavy breathing, creating a cocoon of sound around them. They stumbled toward the couch. The leather creaked softly under their weight as they sank into its deep cushions. She straddled his hips and buried her nose into his neck as he unbuttoned her top. He smelled like every fantasy she’d ever had.
“Do you want to move to the bedroom?” he asked, pushing her blouse off and kissing her shoulders.
She yanked on his shirt, and he shifted, giving her room to remove it. “Absolutely not,” she breathed. The man was gorgeous. His body was naturally lean and toned, the kind of effortless fitness from an active lifestyle rather than hours at the gym. A faint trail of dark hair led enticingly down from his navel, disappearing beneath his waistband. His skin glowed golden in the dim light, marred only by a small scar below his collarbone that somehow made him even more irresistible. She leaned forward, kissing his tight nipple. On impulse, bit gently. His hips jerked, and his deep groan told her he liked it. She did it to the other side and was rewarded with the same reaction.
“We’ve started. We’re not stopping,” she said against his hot skin. “If the phone rings, we aren’t answering. If someone knocks on the door, they’re staying outside. I don’t care if the damn building’s on fire. We are not stopping.”
Kissing the top of her head, he said, “Works for me.”
He unclipped her bra and leaned back, his hot gaze roaming over her. “You’re even more beautiful than I pictured in my fantasies.”
She bit her lower lip, fighting back a grin that threatened to spread across her face. A pleasant warmth crept up her neck to her cheeks. “Oh?” she purred, arching up, loving how his eyes dilated. The blue in them was barely visible. “And just how many fantasies have you had about me?”
His gaze dipped to her lips, then chest. “Depends. Are you talking about today? Or since we met?”
“Careful, London,” she teased, trailing a finger down his chest. “A girl might think you’re getting attached.”
His eyes softened, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Would that be so bad? ”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she couldn’t answer him. Deflecting, she said, “Let’s focus on making your fantasies a reality.”
His gaze was on her face, but his hands were busy. They were sliding along her torso, his thumb stopping just below her breasts, rubbing along the undersides. Then he moved up, teasing her nipples. She always preferred attention to all of her and laid a hand over his, hoping he’d get the message.
Proving his intelligence, the man leaned in, kissing her everywhere—from collarbone to the tops of her breasts. He picked her up and switched seating positions, then slid off the couch onto his knees, his lips traced the underside of her breast, then moved to her belly, continuing downward until reaching the waist of her pants. Leaning back on his heels, his hands ran down her legs, resting at her ankles. Gently, he removed her ballet flats, his fingers caressing her instep. After being on her feet nearly all day, his touch was incredible. The plush carpet tickled her bare soles, a stark contrast to the firm pressure of his hands. The sensation was so intense that there was a possibility she could climax from that alone.
But she needed him closer. Needed his heat, needed him. With the leg he wasn’t holding, she wrapped it around his back and pulled him forward.
He stumbled forward, catching himself on the couch. “Impatient,” he teased.
“Maybe a little.” She held her fingers an inch apart. Reconsidering, she spread her arms wide and grinned. “Maybe a lot.”
He unzipped her pants. “Lift your hips.”
She did as she was told, and he removed the rest of her clothes. His intense gaze conveyed his intentions, sparking a brief internal debate. Should she let him proceed with his evident plan or pull those tempting lips back to her mouth? Past experience promised one hell of a good orgasm if she chose the fo rmer. Yet the urge to have his body pressing into hers, on top of her, was overwhelming.
That desire won, and she grabbed him and kissed him hard, unprepared for how it shattered her. The touch of his lips was primitive and dangerous—no polite flutter of attraction but a wildfire that blazed through her blood. She lost herself in the sensation for a moment, surprised by how easily he could ignite this fire within her.
“I want to taste you again,” he said.
“And I want you right here. It’s my turn to get what I want.”
He smirked. “You didn’t get what you wanted last time?”
She met his gaze. “Oh, I did. But I’m a ravenous woman. I always demand more.”
His eyes darkened. “Then let me give you more. Let me give you everything.”
The weight of his words hung between them, and something beyond desire echoed through her. “Everything is a lot to promise, Max.”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said softly, cupping her face.
He probably believed his words now, in the heat of passion, but when he cooled down, so would his feelings for her. She pulled away from him and his false promises but kissed his palm to show there were no hard feelings.
She smiled. “All I want is orgasms.”
He quirked a brow. “Orgasms? Plural?”
She gave him a one-shoulder shrug, reaching for the zipper of his jeans. “What can I say? I’m a greedy woman.”
“I love it.” He slipped a hand between her legs, his palm pressing into her clit. “I’m going to be the man that makes you glutton with pleasure.”
She pressed her thighs together, her need swelling. “I hope you’re not all talk, London.”
He captured her lips, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth before diving in. He kissed her until she was panting and rocking against his hand. He slowed his touch, becoming almost reverential. The change in pace made her wonder if he, too, was grappling with the intensity of their connection.
She hooked her fingers into the waist of his jeans. “Take them off.”
He stood and unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal incredibly erotic. Then, he shoved them down and kicked them off.
Naked before her, he sparked a whirlwind of cravings. She yearned to feel him inside her, to watch him between her legs as he stroked himself, to taste him as he came apart with her mouth wrapped around him.
Her skin prickled, and her body hummed like a taut violin string. She stood, pressing into this body. Her nose reached his neck, and she inhaled him like a fine wine. His faded cologne had mixed with his natural scent—a whisper of honest exertion not sharp or acrid, but earthy and alive, like sun-warmed soil after a light rain. The combination was intoxicating and amplified her desire.
Her fingers twitched, aching to trace the scar below his collarbone, to map every inch of him. Their eyes locked, and she caught a glimmer in his gaze, making her stomach flip. There wasn’t only lust but a dangerous hint of promise. It was the kind of look that could lead her down a path of heartbreak, beckoning her like a siren’s call.
Could this time be different? Could she trust her feelings? Could she trust him?
The questions swirled in her mind, even as her body hummed with an answering intensity. Part of her wanted to retreat, to protect herself from the vulnerability of the moment. But a stronger part, a part she couldn’t quite silence, urged her forward, whispering, “Yes.”
His fingertips traced her jawline, his touch impossibly gentle despite the heat between them. “You still want this?” The tenderness in his touch belied the purely physical nature of his words.
She pulled him closer, refusing to acknowledge how that gentleness made her heart squeeze. “Yes,” she breathed against his lips. “Show me exactly what you can do.”