Page 105 of In Your Wake

But if it was, why would I have this crushing pressure in my chest? Why does it feel like I’m missing out on something bigger that’s just beyond my reach?

When her orgasm hits, she grips my face, her fingers claw my cheeks, and her thighs tighten around my hand. She rides the waves of pleasure, biting back her scream by digging her teeth into her bottom lip.

She’s so flawless with her hair disheveled and her skin softly flushed a pink hue. So natural and delicate I can’t help but kiss her stomach gently as she relaxes, her breathing slowing down. Then, I fix her bathing suit, tucking it back into place, skimming my fingers over her still-hard nipples and run my fingers between her breasts, her heart hammering beneath my touch.

“What are we doing?” Maxine asks, roughly as she digs her fingers into my shoulders, shoving me away.

I roll onto my back with a grunt and gaze at her, then smirk and move my hand along her lower stomach. “Well, I know what I was doing.”

She stops me, gripping my wrist. “I’m serious, Mitch.”

The insecurity in her expression wipes the grin from my face. She drops my hand and rolls away, sitting on the edge of the bed. Readjusting her bathing suit, her gaze drifts over her shoulder. Her brow sinks, and she hurries to fix the messed-up comforter, smoothing it down.

When she’s done, she looks up at me, her voice calmer. “Why did you do that?”

I fold my arms behind my head and glance down at the tent in my shorts. “What can I say? Making you angry gets me going.”

“I don’t need snarky comments and a cocky grin right now. We can’t keep doing this. It’s pointless.”

“Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself.” I slide to the end of the bed and sit up. “You didn’t stop me, did you? You could have, but you didn’t. You want this as much as I do.”

She runs her fingers through her messy hair, braiding it. “Sure, I’ll admit that seeing you in a bathing suit gets me going, but have you looked in the mirror? Most red-blooded women would react the same way. I’m sure most men would, too.”

I glance down at myself and chuckle before pointing at her. “And what about you?”

She grimaces as if I’ve spoken a weird dialect she doesn’t understand.

“No way.” I drop my hands to my sides. “Don’t tell me you still don’t see how fucking gorgeous you are.”

Another grimace, but she pairs it with an eye-roll and a cute, shy smile. “Shut up.”

She plants her hands on her hips, sticking her chest out, but when my eyes lock on her breasts, she rethinks her stance and crosses her arms, stealing away the show.

“This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t? We’re two friends passive-aggressively getting over our shit.”

“I asked you to stop with the snark,” she says and I feel the corner of my lips lift. “And the smirk!”

I rub a hand over my jaw. “It gets you going, doesn’t it? My smirk.” I arch an eyebrow. “You sort of like it, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point. We need to draw a line somewhere. We’re partners. Business partners,” she tacks on. “And even that is insane, but necessary.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“Mitch, you’re leaving.”

Absentmindedly, I drop a hand to my thigh, squeezing the muscle. “Well, I need to meet with Phil—”

“Exactly,” she interrupts. “So, if you think I’m going to let this—whatever this is—continue, you’re wrong.”

Now that I’m thinking with my big brain, I realize she’s right. “And what is this?”

Defeated, she drops her chin, then rubs her eyes. When she looks at me again, the fire in her gaze has gone cold. “I guess it’s how you put it so perfectly. Just two friends passive-aggressively working through their shit.”

I’m aware I said it first, but the moment she echoes my words back to me, I realize I didn’t mean them. We’re so much more than that.

“Max, I didn’t—” A buzz fills the room as my phone vibrates against my ass, but I pretend not to notice.