“I think,” I said carefully, “he just wants control. And right now, I’m giving him too much.”
Max’s gaze remained steady, his expression now impossible to read. Until he moved closer, and his face stilled with quiet determination.
“And what about me?” he asked.
My heart stumbled. “What about you?”
“I don’t fake shit well,” he warned. “Not with you.” He hesitated, then asked, “What do I get out of this?”
The air thickened. My voice shook. “What do you want?”
He held my gaze, steady, deadly serious.
“I want full boyfriend privileges. When we’re pretending, I want the real thing.”
That wasn’t what I expected.
“But don’t you…” I stammered, unsure how to say it without sounding like I was chaining him. “You can sow your oats. Or whatever. When I’m not around, I don’t want to hold you back.”
He laughed.
“Sow my oats? Are you in the 1800s, Trouble? You mean fuck?”
Damn, Max. This dangerous side of him was confusing as hell because I liked it a lot.
“I mean… yeah, if that’s your thing,” I said, barely meeting his eyes. Sweat dampened my hair at the nape of my neck.
“Yeah, definitely. But Jackson doesn’t think we’re fucking. How are we going to make him believe it? Me just saying we’re dating isn’t going to affect him.”
He stepped closer, the scent of him crashing into me. My heart slammed into my chest.
“Uh… I don’t know.” His finger traced down my arm as he caught my nervous gaze.
“I want to touch you. Where I want. How I want. When I want,” he whispered. “I’ll be a good boy and follow your rules. But when it’s showtime, I’m not holding back.”
Holy shit. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Max was in the big leagues, and I was not.
“We have to keep it believable. Just enough to…”
“Believable?” His laugh was low. “I told you, I’m not holding back.”
I stayed toe-to-toe with him. Our eyes locked, letting the silence stretch, letting him wonder what I’d do next. He was so confident.
Could he hear my heart racing? Could he sense the way my breath trembled? Could he smell me? Because in that moment, I was a complete mess, undeniably drenched. I pressed my thighs together to ease the pressure that was forming rightthere.
“I know you’re not ready for that,” he murmured. “Show me the line, Trouble. Show me what’s okay.”
I slid my fingers into his hand, pressing them to his chest. “This.”
He tilted his head. “That’s nothing. We do that all the time.”
I stepped closer, my shoulder brushing his chest. “This?”
His eyes were locked on mine. “Cute, but still nothing. I had my hands on your tits earlier, Trouble. If we were fucking, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, so I think we need to include that. Come on, we’re both adults here. Don’t be shy. It’s just me.”
That was the problem, it washim.He was my best friend, and he knew me better than anyone else. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to dive into that layer of intimacy with him.
He took my hand and dragged it up to his jaw, his stubble rough under my fingertips. His eyes closed for a beat, memorizing the touch. “Too much?”
