Was I okay with him taking control and giving me the most incredible pleasure ever? I smiled. “Never better.”
Laughing, he eased out of me. Despite knowing he was only going to dispose of the condom, I wanted to call him back, didn’t like the emptiness I felt without him. It was like we’d connected—like a bond had formed. Pushing that foolish thought aside, I pulled the covers over me and stared at the sloping ceiling of my attic bedroom.
This wasn’t what we’d signed up for. He wasn’t mine, nor I his, not for the long-term anyway. I needed to move on from my hermit lifestyle. And Max was hot, sexy, and he wanted me. Maybe, it was because I wasn’t like the girls he usually hooked up with. I turned away and faced the opposite wall.
“Shutting me out already?”
Footsteps. Then Max lifted the covers and slipped in beside me, pulled me close, his front curving around my back, and ran his hand lightly from my waist to my hips.
A sudden kaleidoscope of colors brightened the room. With no idea what to say, I mumbled, “The fireworks have started.”
Those fingers stroking me stilled. Then tightened on my hips. “Answer me, Logan.”
At his demand, I blurted out, “Why me, Max?”
“Because you are stubborn, beautiful, and youseeme.” No hesitation. “No one ever has, not even my old man.” He smoothed his palm over my stomach, his tan, tattooed forearm a striking contrast against my own sun-brown skin. I traced the gray, tonal ink outline of the skeleton in a top hat smoking a cigar there. His warm breath skimmed over my nape, and he pressed his lips to my shoulder. A shudder raced through me. “And because you pulled me out of my downward spiral and showed me how to live again.”
My chest compressed. I rubbed his biceps wrapped around me, struggling to get my lungs working again. “So why the tattoo of the skeleton with the top hat and cigar?”
“I liked it. Quite ironic, considering I still do that shit.”
A habit I wished he’d give up. “And this?” I asked instead, tracing a line of musical notes amidst his other ink that wound around his forearm like a rope.
“A line from my mother’s first performance…” His warm mouth trailed kisses along my nape. His semi-erect cock stirred against my backside.
“Already?” I teased.
“With you, it doesn’t need time, it seems.”
I felt his smile as he nipped my skin.
“Do your parents ever come looking for you after a night out?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I tried to turn, but his arm tightened, and his teeth fastened on my shoulder, holding me there. I looked at him over my shoulder. Grumbled. “I want to hold you and touch you.”
“Later you can do anything you want, but right now...” He kissed my upturned mouth, his hands stroking down my thigh. He lifted my leg over his, opening me to his exploring fingers.
My breath caught. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No, baby, I only want your pleasure.” His thumb lightly stroked my clit. Once, twice and pleasure resurged…
ChapterThirteen
Max
The dull gray light of early morning seeped into the room from the undrawn drapes. My gritty eyes hurt so I squeezed them shut. I was alone in bed. Logan was probably in the bathroom.
I really hated the small snatches of sleep I managed to grab. They were worse than not sleeping at all, leaving my mind and head feeling sluggish. Why the hell did I think that maybe, just maybe, I’d sleep for a few hours at least after making love to Logan? I rubbed my eyes, the low-grade pounding behind them a stark reminder of another shitty day ahead.
My gaze shifted back to the bathroom. I frowned at the silence.
No. No, way, Logan, you aren’t shutting me out!
Jaw tight, I pulled on my clothes she’d folded and set on the very armchair I’d mouth-fucked her in, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, made my way down to the ground floor of the silent house. The rich smell of coffee infused the air, but the kitchen was empty.
