Chapter 11 #2
After fiddling with the lock box, Max produced a silver key and a moment later the door of the A-frame cabin swung open.
“I–uh–it has two bedrooms,” Max said sheepishly. “I didn’t want to assume you’d want to share a bed, so um—” she mumbled, eyes finding her shoes.
Annie found the shyness endearing, quietly touched by the way Max was always planning for her comfort. She’d forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of that.
She slid her hand into Max’s, squeezing gently, whispering, “How am I supposed to spoon you if I’m in another bed?”
Max’s eyes shot up at her words, wide and excited before softening. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was putting any kind of weird pressure or expectation on this trip.”
“I know. And I really, really appreciate that. But I can’t think of anything I want to do more than go inside, brush my teeth, and wrap my arms around you. Fair warning, I run hot—I’m like a human furnace.” Annie wiggled her eyebrows playfully.
“I’m always cold. Looks like we’re a perfect match.”
They each picked up their bags and moved into the cabin.
After some rummaging, sifting, and positioning of suitcases, Annie had retrieved her pajamas, a cute pair of sleep shorts dotted with cherry blossoms, and an old, loose-fitting shirt that had become impossibly soft after several hundred cycles through the washing machine.
“I’m going to—” She motioned to the bathroom door, then to the clothes in her hand.
Max glanced at the items. “Oh—yeah, I’ll get changed in the bedroom. Let me know when I can come in to brush my teeth?”
A few minutes later, her pajamas were snugly in place as she pulled open the bathroom door.
“All set, you can come brush your…” But her voice trailed off as Max appeared outside the doorway in boyshort underwear and that same damn white tank top she had been wearing under her hoodie the first time they had kissed in the kitchen.
The mental image of Max with her hard, erect nipples, chest heaving from the excitement of their kiss, forever burned into her memory. But tonight—tonight was better.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Max said softly, slipping behind Annie, reaching around her to set her toiletries bag on the vanity.
Annie tensed at the sensation of Max brushing against her, sending a very specific heat directly to her core.
“I usually sleep in my underwear and nothing else, but added the tank top for more…coverage.”
Annie’s eyes snapped from where they had been lingering on Max’s chest for a length of time that, at this point, was downright objectifying before meeting Max’s pale blue gaze in the mirror over her right shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, her throat dry as she set her toothbrush down. “Makes sense.”
Max began to brush her teeth, Annie combing through her brassy hair, piling it into a knot on top of her head.
“I’m always amazed at people who make that look so effortless,” Max said, leaning down to spit the toothpaste out of her mouth.
“I’ve never been able to figure out the messy bun, top-knot thing.
I think my hair is too thick. Here, feel.
” She tilted her head in Annie’s direction, inviting her to touch her hair.
Slowly, she raised her fingers, running them through Max’s dark wavy strands, the coarseness feeling different on her skin than her built-up repository of memories attached to this movement, memories still tied to Caroline. But it was time for new memories.
“It’s a natural ability, I’m afraid. Either you have it or you don’t,” Annie joked, letting her fingers fall from Max’s hair as she moved back in the direction of the bedroom.
“Don’t take too long, honey. I’ll be waiting for you in bed.
” She tossed Max a wink as she stepped into the bedroom, selecting her side of the bed—the right-hand side, obviously—and hoping that Max also didn’t want that one.
Max slipped into the room a few minutes later, smelling of mint and clean linen, shimmying herself under the covers, scooting closer.
The heat of their bodies pressing together wrapped around Annie like a comforting blanket.
She instinctively draped her arm over Max’s waist, nestling against her back, inhaling deeply as she cataloged each facet of Max’s scent profile—wintermint and summer-air dried laundry—a dizzying combination.
After some shifting and moving around, they finally found their sweet spot, settling into position together, their breathing syncing.
Annie was extremely aware that her hand was mere inches from Max’s perfect, perky boobs, and all it would take was a simple shift of her right shoulder to accidentally or not-so-accidentally graze the curved slice of skin peaking out from the tank top. Sweet, sweet sideboob, we meet again.
“You should consider yourself lucky,” Max whispered. “I’m not known to be a cuddler.” She shifted slightly, pressing herself back against Annie.
The question that came out of Annie’s mouth wasn’t one she intended to say, but once again, impulse won. “Because you don’t like it? Or it’s hard for you to let yourself need someone like that?”
Max chuckled, her body shaking with the sound. “Okay, ouch, you can put the mirror down now,” she joked, a moment of silence falling between them as they breathed together. “It’s not because I don’t like it.”
Annie pressed her lips to Max’s freckled shoulder blade, peppering a trail of soft kisses down her arm and back up. She paused, waiting to see if Max would push her away or give any indication of wanting to stop, but she didn’t.
Do it, reach out and touch the sideboob. You love sideboob, the horny voice in her head told her as her hand adjusted her grip on Max’s torso.
Sideboob.
Touch it.
Now.
“Annie,” Max said hoarsely, her voice low and wanting.
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to touch my boobs or what?”