What the hell was that? Last time was incredible, but this… this was another level.
His hand slides out of me, and he watches me closely as he sucks his glistening fingers clean.
“That’s one,” he says. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Thank. Fuck.
Usually this is the part where I gather my belongings and my pride, make a swift exit, and pull some tarot cards once I’m home.
Leave before they want cuddles, cleanse myself of their energy, move on to the next.
But tonight is new. The raw desire in his eyes is gravitational. Against every morsel of my being, I find myself wanting him,needinghim again.
Regardless of how hesitant I was to agree to our little arrangement, I’m forced to admit that Max Browne isn’t someone I can get out of my system with a few sexual encounters.
And—shit—it’s starting to feel like Anna might not be the only thing I need to worry about.
It doesn’t feel like Max is simply spreading my legs anymore. Instead, he’s thawing out the part of me that’s beenfrozen for a long time. The part of me I locked up tight, sealed off by years of keeping men at arm’s length.
I might have set the condition that Max doesn’t fall in love with me—but I didn’t say anything about what happens ifIfeel something for him.
And I definitely didn’t account for the idea that this arrangement could screwmeover.
Max kisses his way up my body, dragging that perfect mouth along my stomach, over my breasts, until he’s hovering above me. He rubs his cock through my sensitive folds as his forearms cage my head. I rock my hips, his cock sliding through the mess between my legs like it was made to fit there. He groans, moving in sync with me. I watch the way his abs tense and flex. My eyes dip lower to where his cock lies thick and heavy, coated with my arousal.
“Are you good?” He breathes, brushing a knuckle over my jaw.
“Great,” I whimper.
His lips curl in a satisfied smirk.
“Just so you know, we aren’t cuddling,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He laughs, a deep rumble. “We haven’t even started yet.”
My stomach flips and swells. Before he can say another word, I push him onto his back, swinging my leg over his hips in one fluid motion. His eyes darken to midnight as I settle atop his cock, his hard length pressed against me. I plant my palms on his muscular chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my hands as I continue to grind against him.
“My turn?” I ask, my voice husky.
He reaches around to squeeze my arse, making me gasp. “I want you so badly.”
“Condoms?” My body screams to feel him inside me.
He strokes his hands up and down my thighs. “I will ifyou want me to. But I want you to know—I’m clean. I get tested every month.”
“That’s very responsible of you,” I say. “But unfortunately, I’m not on birth control.”
His lips curve into something dangerously smug. “I’ve had a vasectomy.”
My brain short-circuits.
Oh. My. God.
His beautiful words suck the air out of my lungs. I’m hit with such an enormous wave of happiness, I think I might cry. Those words aren’t just music to my ears; they’re the whole damn symphony.
“That might be the sexiest sentence ever spoken,” I say.
His gaze is as penetrating as it is torturous. His next command severs the thin tether I was clinging on to.
