CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATASHA’SSHOESSANKinto the sand as she started across the beach, back to the cluster of cabins where they were staying. Max walked next to her, close, his hand brushing against hers or lingering on the small of her back every so often. Thank goodness he had put on his shirt. Even an epaulette shark sighting wouldn’t be enough to distract her from the glistening muscles that rippled down his chest. The dusting of hair, the trail that disappeared into his suit. It was all so intimate, so...there.
Oh, no, was she falling for him? It was like he had his own gravitational field, pulling in women who got too close. Even her, who knew better. Life would be so much easier if she were a shark. She’d mate with Max and then her little brain would forget all about him soon after he moved on. Instead, she was stuck with a human brain that wasn’t going to forget Max. Especially not after last night on the beach.
Warning signals were flashing in her annoyingly hyperactive brain, and not for the first time.Get out now. Don’t wait until it’s too late. You’ll turn into a crazy woman.
But she already knew she wasn’t backing out of their last day on the island together. Not when she knew that, no matter who she dated, he’d never be as fun as Max. Or as hot. If this was her chance with him, she was going to take full advantage of it. If she could just resist the temptation to make this more than it was going to be, she might still be able to walk away.
They headed across the beach and cut onto the path that wove through the plants and palm trees toward the cabin. Max’s hand brushed the small of her back, and then he reached around and pinched her ass. Natasha yelped and jumped away.
“What was that for?” she asked, laughing.
Max lifted his sunglasses and gave her a mock-serious glare. “You knew I was nervous about the whole shark thing, and you let me think the worst.”
She suppressed another laugh. “Maybe.”
He dove for her and tickled her. Then, before she could get away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “You enjoyed it.”
“Okay, maybe I did,” she said, grinning. “It was fun to feel like I had the advantage for once.”
He gave her a searching look, his smile fading. After another beat his expression shifted into something that looked a lot like determination. Max laced his fingers with hers and led the way around the pool, back to their suite. Silently, he opened the door and headed for his bedroom. She followed, and as soon as he shut his door, he slowed to a stop. He turned so they were face-to-face, his hands on her arms, his intense gaze fixed on her. He walked her backward until she was against the cool wood of the door, his sun-warmed body brushing against hers.
He bent over and kissed her neck, her jaw. Every breath, every quiet groan sent another jolt of edgy pleasure through her. Then he pulled back and looked right into her eyes.
“I’m very into this, Natasha,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers. “Every part of it. I don’t want any misunderstanding about that.”
The electric pull jumped and sparked between them, and his gaze dipped lower, to her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat. All day she had suppressed the urge to touch him, to explore, to feel his weight against her. It was so good to be with him on the reef, just laughing, touching, talking. But all that time, tension and want for Max brewed deliciously inside. And they hadn’t even taken off their clothes.
Now she wanted more. She wanted a taste of what they would be like together if he wasn’t Max Jensen, the press’s favorite wealthy playboy.
She kept her gaze steady and lifted her hands to his face. His eyes grew hot as she guided his mouth to hers. His warm lips brushed against hers, soft, almost reverent in their touch. She sighed. His mouth met hers again, and she kissed him back, tasting his bottom lip, then his top.
A deep rumble came from him, and then they were really kissing. Hungry, needy kisses, searching, finding, looking for more. He eased her back onto the bed and climbed over her, breathless gasps mingling together. His palms came to her cheeks, and he tilted his head, kissing her, stroking her neck, her sides. His cock was hard on her stomach, and she moved against him, loving the intensity of his arousal. Strong hands lifted her so she could straddle him, her clit against his erection. He groaned and thrust, and the hot burst of pleasure rushed through her. She tilted her hips and ground against him. She nipped at his lips, and he answered with strokes of his tongue. So hungry. So good.
That thought was enough to stop her. Natasha pulled back, shaking off that wild magic that tingled through her. Her fingers and toes and breasts—every part of her begged not to stop. But finally, her brain had caught up with her. She brought her hands to his face and held him a few inches away.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he sighed.
“This isn’t how it usually feels for me. This feels like...something more.”
His expression was so serious, so intense. His hand was on her cheek, coaxing her eyes to his, as if he were daring her to look away. The electric pull between them was sparking again. Natasha still could steel herself against the power of Max’s charm...couldn’t she? But now that those warning lights had turned on, it was impossible to ignore them. She could recognize that road to crazy from a mile away. And she had already started down it. Which wasn’t supposed to happen after a couple days of sex and fun.
“We don’t have a package deal, Max,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “This is à la carte, remember?”
Natasha wasn’t even sure what they were negotiating, but her feelings about him were shifting, something that wasn’t what she’d bargained for.
“What if I’m interested in some items not listed on the à la carte menu?” he asked with a hint of frustration.
Her heart sped up, pumping unwanted hope through her. Still, she shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Max’s expression turned darker, so un-Max-like. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
He clearly had more to say, but for once, the words didn’t flow out of his mouth. Leave it to her to provoke the world’s most easygoing man.
Or maybe it wasn’t that. Because the more she looked into Max’s eyes, the more that explanation felt like an excuse. Maybe he was just letting her see more of him this time, even that intensity, that drive that he kept so expertly cloaked beneath his good-natured exterior. She mentally squirmed under Max’s gaze but was determined not to look away.
His gaze softened, and she saw more. Something profound and aching, something she had no words for. He was struggling, too. Her chest tightened. She drew in a shaky breath, fighting the deep ache of tenderness she felt for him. It was too much.
