I cast a look around, observing what everyone else is doing. They’re all a few drinks deep and nicely buzzed. They look busy. Thankfully, Tom, Will, and Oliver have relocated to the couch, chatting about their upcoming US tour. April and James are helping Caroline in the kitchen, all of them smiling and laughing about something I can’t hear.
“Anna’s right there,” I say, punctuating my words as I tip my head toward the courtyard where my best friend is in the middle of what looks to be an intense conversation.
“No one will notice. They’re all focused elsewhere,” he says.
I chew the inside of my cheek, mulling over my options. I could say no, knowing he’ll only continue to tempt me with those masterful fingers. I could excuse myself and dash to the bathroom to take care of my itch and clean myself up. Or… I could give in to the reckless impulse coursing through me.
The part of my brain that isn’t drowning in hormones knows this isn’t a wise idea. But rationality seems to evacuate whenever Max Browne is around.
“Follow me in thirty seconds. Down the hallway next to the stairs. Second door on the left,” I instruct.
His eyes darken.
No one watches as I stand without another word and make my way to the guest bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Max
My cock twitches as I count down each second from thirty. The sound of conversation and clinking utensils fades as I navigate the hallway. I reach the second door on the left and turn the knob.
Gemma stands in the middle of the modest bedroom, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her legs are pressed together, shifting as if she’s desperate for relief.
Yeah, she wants me. It’s written all over her gorgeous face. Her eyes are wild—pupils wide with desire. The blush that stained her cheeks earlier now trails down her neck and disappears beneath her blouse.
She looks desperate. And completely perfect.
“This is a bad idea,” she says. Her words land, but her body tells a different story.
I take measured steps toward her, eliminating the air between us.
“Then tell me to stop,” I challenge, dropping my voice. “Tell me this isn’t what you’ve needed since I touched you under the table.”
Her eyes flash. “I hate you so much.”
The lie makes me smile. “Show me how much you hate me.”
Her back meets the dresser, leaving her nowhere to go. I cage her in with my hands firmly planted on either side of her hips. Her pulse flutters at the base of her throat. I haven’t even touched her yet, but my heart races with the thoughts of what I want to do with her.
When we have time, I tell myself. Right now, we don’t. Every second counts, and I don’t plan to waste them.
“Someone might come looking for us,” she whispers, making no move to push me away. Her hands find my chest, her fingers splaying as she toys with the expensive fabric.
“Then we’d better make this quick,” I murmur, closing the last inch of space.
Our lips meet with matched hunger. The kiss is desperate, messy, and hot. A groan rumbles low in my chest as she drags me closer. I open for her, and our tongues slide together. She tastes so damn sweet.
My hands move to her arse, squeezing the soft flesh as I grind my cock against her. She whimpers, rocking and rubbing her hips, chasing friction.
I break the kiss to drag my mouth down her neck. One hand slides into her hair, twisting it through my fist and giving it a firm tug, baring her neck to me. I lay a trail of wet kisses along her throat, nipping and sucking as her warm breath stutters against my cheek.
Time falls away, silencing the rest of the world until there’s nothing left but the sensation of her skin against mine.
“Take me out,” I say.
Her hands fall to my belt, dragging my zipper down and exposing my hard cock. Her thumb sweeps over my crown, rubbing the pre-cum over the head. I bite into her neck and soothe the mark with my tongue.
Her delicate hand wraps around my shaft with just the right amount of pressure, pumping me from tip to base. My balls grow heavy as desire coils around me like smoke. I release my hold on her hair to hike her skirt up to her waist. She widens her stance ever so slightly, and I accept her unspoken invitation, pushing her pathetic excuse for panties to the side and sliding my fingers through her slit.
