Well, it did for me.
And heaven help me, it felt that same way for him too.
One arm wrapped around my waist dragging me hard against him while his other hand slid into my hair, tilting my head exactly where he wanted it. And boy, did he want it. His mouth moved over mine with rough, hungry intent, and when his tongue swept against mine, my knees nearly gave out.
God, could the man freaking kiss.
The hard length of him pressed against my stomach, thick and unmistakable, and my entire body lit up in response. He wasn’t playing along anymore. He was taking control of the kiss completely, owning it in a way that made my pulse pound inplaces no public kiss ever should. I could feel the frantic pulse between my thighs as I ground myself against him.
My fingertips dug into his biceps as I clung to him, helpless against the dizzy rush of heat and want and his overwhelming scent. Somewhere in the distance, I vaguely remembered Tiffany existed.
Barely.
Because Max kissed like he’d forgotten we had an audience too.
And when he finally pulled back, he didn’t let me go.
His arm stayed locked around my waist, keeping me tucked against his side while he looked at Tiffany with a calm expression that didn’t remotely match the heat still burning in his eyes.
Tiffany looked like she’d been slapped. Her mouth opened in shock, her carefully composed face crumbling into a mask of indignant fury. She let out a sharp, ugly sound.
“Fine,” she snapped as she turned for the door. “I’ll see you at the lodge. Try not to track in a trail of sawdust.”
The door slammed shut behind her, the bell giving one final, frantic jingle before silence reclaimed the store.
I stood there, my lips all swollen and tingling. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was still wrapped in the arms of the most handsome man on the mountain and that I had just lied through my teeth about being his girlfriend.
I looked up at him, my face flushing. “Max, I—”
He didn’t let me finish. He looked down at me, his gaze heavy and focused. He didn’t look awkward. He didn’t look like a man who had just been helped.
“Pack a bag, Frankie,” he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that made my toes curl. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. And if you’re going to call me babe in front of my family, you’d better be prepared for me to act like I own you.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He just tightened his grip on my hip for a second, letting me feel his full, hard length one more time before he let me go and headed for the door.
I stood there, my legs shaking, a dull throbbing ache between my thighs, realizing that I hadn’t just started a fake relationship. No. I had apparently volunteered myself for the emotional equivalent of walking into a forest fire wearing gasoline panties.
CHAPTER TWO
Max
The drive from town up to Lone Mountain Lodge was only twenty minutes, but with Frankie sitting in my passenger seat, it felt like crossing a damn continent.
The air was thick with her—vanilla, a hint of some floral shampoo, and that clean, intoxicating scent of a woman. I was half-afraid it would still be there weeks from now, driving me insane.
Every time I shifted gears, my knuckles brushed her thigh. She was wearing tight, dark jeans that hugged the soft curves of her legs.
And her mouth.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her mouth.
Soft and sweet one second, hungry the next. One kiss and the woman had nearly destroyed what little self-control I had left.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather creak.
Because if I let myself think too long about the way she’d melted against me back at the store, I was going to pull this truck onto the shoulder, drag her across the console, and find out whether she made those same breathless little sounds withmy tongue buried deep in her mouth and my hands down those sinful jeans.
I’d spent months watching her from a distance.
