Page 82 of Playing for Keeps

“I don’t know,” I said. It came out fast and a little desperate. “I just don’t know.”

“Max, hearing from her like that… it makes sense you didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s like part of me wants to know if she’s really changed… but the other part doesn’t trust her. Or myself, really.”

She nodded, her thumb brushing my hand. “You’ve been trying to push it down, but it keeps finding its way back, doesn’t it.”

“Yeah, I know.” I couldn’t help but sigh again.

Emma thought for a moment before continuing, “Well, you don’t have a relationship with her right now. If you meet and it’s terrible, at least you’ll know where you stand. And if there’s something worth saving, it might give you more than you expected. Either way, you won’t be left wondering.”

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I hear you.” I said. “I’m just… not there yet. I should’ve told you sooner though. I just didn’t know what to do with any of it. Thanks, Em.”

She reached up and lightly touched my cheek. “You’re welcome, Max.”

I smiled and closed my eyes for a second to enjoy her touch. “I love that you call me Max,” I said in a low voice. “Not Finn. My stepfather’s name was Finnegan. It reminds me of a time when I didn’t feel safe.”

“So why don’t you tell people to stop calling you Finn?” she asked, not challenging, but out of curiosity.

“Because it feels like backing down. Like I did when I was a kid – taking up less space because it was safer. I’m not that guy anymore… But Max is who I really am.”

Her eyes softened. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I said, and I meant it. For a moment, neither of us looked away. Something in her gaze lingered, and it drew me in before I even realized it. Her thumb brushed my knuckles again, like she was making sure I was really okay.

“Get over here,” I said quietly.

She put her cup on the coffee table, swung her leg over and straddled my lap, before I could say another word. My hands instinctively gripped her hips, pulling her close. Our mouths touched in a slow kiss that was both hesitant and charged. But it changed quickly, the kiss turning fierce and hungry. The soft sounds she made against my lips stripped away the little control I had left. I shifted under her, gripping harder, as she pressed closer and ground down. I groaned into her mouth, my fingers digging into her sweater.

Without breaking the kiss, I pushed myself up from the couch, and hooked her legs around my waist. She let out a surprised laugh against my lips before kissing me harder, her arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. I stood up straight, her body solid and perfect against mine.

As I carried her upstairs, her legs tightened around me, her mouth still hot on mine, and she laughed when I bumped my shoulder against the wall. I didn’t care.

I was half out of breath by the time we reached her room, not just from the stairs but from the way she was tugging my hair and kissing me deeper, making it impossible to think straight. I dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, kissing her again before she could make fun of me for almost tripping on the last step.

Her sweater was soft, but the skin beneath it was warmer. No underwear. Heat flared up in my gut. She trembled when I cupped her breast, her nipple tightening under my thumb. Her gasp melted into my mouth, her body arching as if she had been waiting for this exact touch.

“Jesus, Emma,” I whispered against her lips, my voice thick with want. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She gave me a sly little grin, her eyes bright with mischief. “If that’s all it takes to undo you, Max, I’m starting to wonder about your stamina.”

I laughed, a ragged sound in my throat, and pressed my forehead against hers. “Brutal,” I said, grinning. “But fair.”

I kissed her through the fabric first, dragging my mouth over her, then pulled the sweater up to bare her breasts. Christ. She was gorgeous. I closed my mouth over one nipple, sucking gently, teasing with my tongue until she made a sound that went straight to my cock. I switched sides and gave it the same amount of attention, kissing, licking, and rolling the tight bud between my lips. I pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her naked and perfect beneath me.

“Take these off,” I told her, nodding at the sweatpants hanging low on her hips.

She smirked. “You first.”

God help me, I laughed – low and raw – because she was still challenging me even now. I stripped off my shirt and jeans, and as soon as I was naked, she hooked her thumbs in her sweats and slowly shimmied out of them, her eyes on mine the whole time.

“Happy now?” she teased.

“Not even close.”

I kissed her again, hard, my hand moving down the curve of her stomach until she arched into me. She was already wet, and the sound she made when my fingers found her was enough to make me forget everything else.

“Look at me,” I said, low, rough.