Max leaps. His palm connects with the ball, sending it sailing over the net hard enough that one of the firefighters dives face-first into the sand trying to return it.
The men cheer, and Max laughs again. Even from this distance I feel the low timbre of it hum between my legs.
Goodness gracious.
My insides liquefy. Without thinking, I lean one shoulder against the thin aluminum pole supporting one corner ofthe refreshment tent. But there’s no way this flimsy metal was designed to support the full weight of a grown woman. Particularly one actively melting from arousal.
The tent shudders as the pole shifts. I shift along with it, falling sideways as the pole slides out from its footing and lands on the sand. On the way down, my elbow slams into the refreshment table. Cups launch into the air around me like plastic coated confetti before they rain down on me.
The sideline cooler tips, and Judith and I grab for it. We both miss. The dispenser tips, the lid slides off, and ten gallons of ice water surges over the edge.
A shriek rockets out of me as the freezing wave hits my face and chest, soaking me from my beachy bun updo to the waistband of my shorts.
Finally, Judith wrestles the container upright.
I push wet hair out of my face and look toward the volleyball court.
They’re all staring at me. One of the firefighters still has his arms raised in anticipation of a ball that plops beside him.
“Lila!” Sand flies as Max sprints toward me.
I close my eyes and blow out a shaky breath.
This time, there was no pink magick. No witchy sabotage or lifelong nemesis to blame. At least my butt cheeks aren’t out.
“Are you hurt?” Max drops into a crouch beside me. His hands hover over my shoulders as if he wants to touch but isn’t sure if that would be okay.
Water drips from the end of my nose. “No.”
“What happened?”
“I’d like to say it was some sort of an unprovoked tent attack, but apparently I’m just bad at staying on my feet.”
He looks up as Judith secures the pole in the sand, then back at me. His lips twitch.
“Don’t you dare laugh.”
“I’m not.” He shakes his head and has to purse his lips to keep from erupting.
“You’re thinking about it.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in that crooked smile I’m learning to crave. “Am not.”
His gaze moves over me, checking for injuries. Unfortunately, my yellow tank top has become nearly transparent. It clings to my breasts and the lace bralette that is doing nothing to hide the tight peaks of my nipples.
Max’s attention catches, and his pupils seep into the grass green of his irises.
A rough sound vibrates in his chest.
I bite my lower lip and cross both arms over my chest. “I’m cold.”
“Right. Obviously” His gaze snaps back to my face. “I mean, not obviously. I can’t see— I wasn’t staring at?—”
I roll my eyes. “Help me up.”
The instant our palms meet, heat races up my arm. Max’s fingers close around mine, warm and strong and slightly rough. He guides me to my feet, pulling me closer than necessary. My wet chest nearly brushes his bare one. Heat rolls off his skin, enveloping me in the scent of salt, sunshine, and something warm and woodsy that makes my knees weak.
His other hand settles on my hip as he leans down and inhales. His fingers dig into my skin as his nostrils flare and he draws in another breath.
