Just as I’m remembering my morals, deciding to put a stop to whatever the hell this is, I make the mistake of looking up. Max is sort of gorgeous with his hair all spiky, his lips turned up in a hopeful grin. All kinds of alluring. All kinds of kissable.
I’ve had a lot of rum.
I shut out the siren in my head, the one that’s wailing,Bad idea! Bad idea!, and take a tiny step forward. Mistletoe—it’s tradition. Besides, tonight’s about letting loose, right?
Oh, Max smells good, very good, a clean, woodsy scent that reminds me of pine needles and hiking and moonlight. His eyes are smoky like always, but there’s something different about them, too, something inviting. He blinks languidly and everything—my knees, my pulse, what’s left of my resolve—goes weak.
“Jesus, Jilly, you look terrified. We don’t have to.”
“No, I’m fine.” And I think, maybe, I am.
He rests his hands on my shoulders. “You’re sure?”
I nod.
I close my eyes.
I wait an immeasurable moment.
Max’s lips touch mine.
He kisses me—reallykisses me—warm and soft and leisurely, and I kiss him back, leaning into his chest. I feel him smile. He skates his hands across my shoulders, under my hair, along my neck, until his calloused palms cradle my face. I shiver, delighting in his tenderness.
He pulls back, and for one horrible second I think it’s over. But then the softest groan escapes him and he walks me backward, presses me against the wall, and opens his mouth over mine. He tastes like chocolate and beer and I wonder: Will I ever get to kiss him when he’s sober?
I shove that musing out of my head, content to focus on the here and now.
Max Holden is kissing me like it means something.
Like he wants to keep kissing me, forever.
11
MY ARMS ARE WOUND AROUND HIS NECK.His hands are knotted in my hair. His kisses are gentle and sweet, but thorough. My skin burns from the stubble on his chin, and I’m losing myself in him. This fierce, fiery longing has got to be the most exhilarating, most confusing emotion I’ve ever experienced.
He puts the barest of space between us, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Holy shit. That was… wow.”
I’m amazed I’ve kissed him into near speechlessness.
We’re not safe, though. A witness could wander up the stairs at any moment, and now that it’s started in earnest, I’m nowhere near ready for our time to end. This reckless, voracious desire for more… It’s the best kind of intoxicating.
I take his hand and pull him down the hall to my dad’s study. Pushing the door open, I step inside. Dad’s black cherry desk sits in the center of the room, his closed laptop and a smattering of pens atop it. There’s a small desk lamp, too, but I leave it off. The darkness ups the forbidden factor. It makes me brave.
Max loiters in the doorway, leaning on the jamb. I’m wondering to what extent he’s feeling the beer when he says, “Well, this is the worst idea ever.”
“Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”
“How do you figure?”
“Max, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re not allowed in my bedroom anymore.”
He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you and me aren’t allowed to beanywhere alone.”
“My dad’s not coming in here—not tonight. Besides, do you have a better idea?”
His brow lifts as he considers. “No. Guess I don’t.”
I don’t so much sit as fall onto the leather sofa. I have the fuzzy notion that I should be embarrassed by my clumsiness, by my drunkenness, but whatever. Pulling my feet onto the cushion, I rest my chin on my knees and gaze at Max. “Are you going to join me?”
