41. 41
Ikiss Max.
I kiss him in the middle of the wedding reception of his best friend as Ed Sheeran croons “Perfect” to the guests.
I didn’t mean to. It just happened, but now I can’t stop.
Kissing seems like such a simple thing: the lips of two people brushing against each other. But such a simple act is so complicated. A kiss can be one of friendship, or of love. A platonic love of family or friends, or full of the deep hunger of lovers.
A kiss can promise or comfort; demand or apologize. It can be sweet, like a summer rain, or like being caught in a blustery winter storm, when the only thing to do is hang on.
Kissing Max is all of those things, all at once.
I don’t want to stop kissing him.
Because kissing Maximus Steele makes me feel alive. He makes me feel whole and fixed. He’s fixed me just with the touch of his lips against mine.
Soft lips. Kisses with hunger behind them.
Kisses to get lost in.
The thought is beyond terrifying.
I’m not here to fall for him; I agreed to come as a favour, to pay my debts, and try to get an edge over Sandflower in the fight for Tingel Island.
I haven’t thought of the deal or Mr. Patel since we landed.
All I can think about now is how amazing Max’s lips feel against mine. How good of a kisser he is. And that he’s… stopping.
“Cady,” he murmurs.
“Hmm.” Already missing his touch, I brush my lips back against his.
“We can’t do this here.”
It’s as if the wave knocked me flat again. “Oh.” I pull back, would have stepped away except Max still has a tight grip on me. “I guess it’s public and they’re your friends—”
“Public.” He laughs roughly. “Forgetting the balcony already? But if I don’t stop kissing you, the next stop will be me throwing you on the nearest table and burying myself between those legs. Tongue first, and then my cock.”
I stare at him, the softness between my legs instantly throbbing with need. Having him between my legs right now, on a table, or back on the beach would be preferable to waiting to get back to the condo and—
“I think that might be too public for both of us, but if you’re willing to try—” He leans down, mouth searching. I have no doubt, Max intends to act on his promise, to take me right then and there—
A sudden shriek of laughter pulls me back into reality and I slap a hand on his chest.
“No try,” I tell him, suddenly breathless. “Not here.”
“Back at the condo?”
I bite back my groan of disappointment. “If I can wait that long,” I whisper.
I wait that long, but it’s very difficult. Especially since on the way to make our excuses to make our escape, Callie grabs me, pulling me back onto the dance floor with Emmy and Nia. And Max gets caught up in a conversation with Malcolm and Dexter.
And then there is a champagne toast and a few speeches, including Max, who grins adorably, hair still mussed from my fingers as he tells a story of Marcus when they first met at school.
I can’t repeat anything he said since all I can think about is getting him alone.
And then it’s over; Callie and Marcus take their leave among cheers and good wishes. The crowd is still going strong, but Max takes my hand and we slip onto the sand, leaving Nick and Dexter with Malcolm and Callie’s friends.
Max holds my hand as we hurry along the beach, both holding our shoes. He trips, I drop a shoe as laughter mixes with need making us clumsy.
He kisses me as soon as we step into the elevator, and the door opens and shuts twice before we manage to hit the button.
“This is what I wanted to do when I first met you,” he husks into the side of my neck as he pulls me tight against him. Then his mouth is on mine…
Kissing him is a revelation.
It’s intoxicating.
It snatches my breath, and leaves me gasping and panting and wanting more. More of this and more of him… more of Maximus.
“It wasn’t just pancakes,” he adds with a throaty laugh, hands splayed along my bare back.
“I do like pancakes,” I manage as the door to the floor opens.
“I like you,” he tells me, his arms tight around me, practically carrying me to the door of the condo. “I like you so much.”
My mouth is on him and my hands are on his ass as he tries to unlock the door.
It takes a few times.
I feel like I’m flying, that Max’s arms are the only thing holding me to the ground. There’s so much need and want and desire flooding through me, and I don’t know how I manage without exploding. I want to explode. I want to explode with Max.
I want Maximus…
As soon as we manage to get inside, he has me backed against the door.
“I need to be inside you,” he husks against my throat.
“Me… yes…”
“But I need to taste you again.” His hand fumbles with my dress, yanking it up to get at my underwear.
Get in my underwear.
Or maybe just rip it off because my thong is halfway down my hips when Max claims me with his hand, fingers delving inside me with a moan against my mouth about how good I feel.
I arch against him, my tongue tangling with his.
How could I have gone so long without kissing him?
But then his hand is gone, and he’s pulling at the knot holding my dress up. “I bought the damn thing so I’m damn well going to be the one taking it off you,” he growls as he unpicks the knot and the fabric slithers down into a puddle at my feet.
“Careful,” I warn, my voice breathless. “I like that dress.”
“I’ll buy you all the dresses,” he promises.
“I can buy my own clothes!” I protest as Max drops to his knees before me, right on the pile of fabric. “Max. Stop.”
“I’m not hurting the dress!”
I laugh. I can’t help it because the sight of Max looking up at me with desire and need and… and… his hands clamped around my hips. “What if the boys come back? They don’t want to see—”
The rest of my protest is stifled as Max stands, with me flopped over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Stop!” I cry through my laughter.
“There’s no way I’m letting them see you like this,” he promises. “You’re for my eyes only.” He slaps my ass as he carries me into the bedroom, throwing me onto the bed so roughly that I bounce once before he’s there, pulling off my panties with demanding hands.
“Door,” I manage.
“So demanding,” he growls as he kicks it closed with a foot.
“I am demanding,” I tell him, fisting his hair as he spreads my legs.
“And I like it.” He bites the softness of my inner thigh, hard enough for me to cry out before laving the mark with his tongue. “I like that you’re mine.”
Mine…