“I’m not letting you pass out from heat stroke, Frankie,” I rumbled, my voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that always made her breath hitch. “Take some of this off. Or I’ll do it for you.”
I gave the hem a sharp tug, warning her I meant business.
“Max...” she squeaked.
“You’re trying to hide from me and it’s not going to work. I know what’s under there. I’ve felt it.” I stepped closer, my chest brushing against her. “Undress. Now.”
She looked at me for a long, silent moment, searching my eyes for a joke she wasn’t going to find. Slowly, with shaking hands, she pulled the hoodie over her head. Underneath, she had a t-shirt that was just as baggy.
“The socks and the sweatpants, too,” I ordered.
“Max.”
“I’m not asking, Frankie. You want to pretend we’re a couple? Couples don’t sleep in winter gear in the middle of spring. You’re going to get into that bed in your shirt and your underwear, or I’m going to spend the next ten minutes peeling you like an orange. One. Layer. At a time.”
She let out a frustrated little huff, but the shyness was back, making her look so incredibly vulnerable I wanted to wrap my arms around her and never let go. She stepped out of the sweatpants then leaned down to take off her socks, giving me an unfiltered view of her ass in a pair of simple black cotton panties.
“Better,” I rasped, my gaze raking over her legs. They were perfect—creamy skin and soft curves I wanted wrapped around my waist.
Or my head.
Fuck.
I had to stifle a groan as that image popped into my head, right along with my cock trying to tent the front of my trousers. “Now get in the bed.”
I didn’t wait for her to comply. I stripped down to my boxers and climbed into the bed, the silk sheets cool against my heated skin. I willed my body to behave. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, waiting.
I heard her climb in on the far side, staying as close to the edge as humanly possible. I barely managed not to reach for her. Tonight, I wanted her to realize that even with the layers gone, she was safe.
“Goodnight, Frankie,” I said into the dark.
“Goodnight, Max,” she whispered back.
It took hours for my heart to stop racing and even longer for the ache in my groin to subside. But eventually, the soft sound of her breathing pulled me under.
CHAPTER FIVE
Frankie
Waking up was a slow, heavy descent into a reality that was way more intense than any dream I’d had in the last six months.
I was on my side, staring at the blurred edges of the hotel curtains, but I wasn’t alone. Far from it. Max’s chest was a broad, unyielding weight against my back, his breath slow and rhythmic against the sensitive skin of my neck.
When I moved my hips, trying to ease off the bed without him noticing, I froze.
He was awake. Or his body was, at least.
He had morning wood and it was pressed directly against my backside.
I had to stifle a groan because calling it wood felt like an insult to the entire forestry industry.
I tried to slide forward, my heart hammering against my ribs, but his arm clamped around my waist, hauling me back with one easy, effortless tug, pinning me flush against him.
“Stay,” he rumbled. Max’s voice was even deeper in the morning, a warm, scratchy bass.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. Words tumbled out before I could even think of stopping them. “Max, I... you’re really poking me. Like, I knew you were a big guy, butthis feels like you’re hiding a piece of galvanized pipe in your shorts.”
I felt the low, dark vibration of a chuckle against my shoulder blades. Max didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted, his hips grinding a slow, deliberate circle against me. The friction sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat straight to my core, making my breath hitch and my thighs tremble.
