Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(31)

A tingle shoots up my feet as I make a dive for the vibrator just as Max bends over. Our heads instantly collide, causing him to drop the flashlight onto my bare foot.

“Ouch!” I squeal, bending over to grab my tingling foot as I hop awkwardly and grip the ladder for balance.

“Shit, Cassandra, are you okay?” Max’s eyes find mine in the darkness, his gaze shifting to my chest.

I glance down, and my heart rate skyrockets because my right breast is completely exposed. Nipples and all. “Holy fuck,” I cry, dropping my foot to yank my nightgown over my chest. “Oh, my God, this is so embarrassing,” I groan, feeling more horrified than I have ever felt in my entire life.

Scratch that.

There’s more.

A faint noise permeates the air, breaking through the mortified ringing in my ears.

The distinct, unmistakable tremor of…

…vibrating.

Max’s brow furrows at the noise, and without pause, he bends over and picks the device up off the floor. His lips part with an audible pop as he holds it in front of his face, staring at it like it’s an alien life-form.

With a frustrated growl, I snatch it out of his hand, quickly pressing the off button to stop the soundtrack of my complete and utter demise. I slam it down on the counter and push my tousled hair out of my face before releasing a groan of agony.

“Cassandra, are you okay?” Max’s deep voice asks, his scent invading my senses that are already at a hair-trigger level.

“Obviously not.” I turn to face him and struggle to fight back the knot forming in my throat. The emotion causes my skin to tighten as my nipples pebble beneath the satin. I close my eyes because his handsome, confused face is just too much for me to bear. Why do I keep finding myself in awkward situations with this man? What have I done to deserve this level of torture from the gods?

Max’s voice is hoarse when he inquires, “Were you—?”

“Max.” I inhale deeply before opening my eyes to look at his devastatingly sexy face. The lines on his forehead are creased in such concern, I feel mortified all over again. “Please don’t speak.”

“Why not?” His gaze darkens as drips of rain fall down his face.

My eyes begin to sting as I fight back the tears. Tears that will sprout likely from searing pain on my foot, the dull ache on my forehead, the damn near crippling mortification…

…and sexual frustration beyond my wildest dreams.

The past two weeks have been the best and the worst kind of torture. I don’t know what end is up anymore.

My eyes lift to his, searching back and forth and wishing I could say what I need to say without uttering a sound. “Don’t ask me what I was doing or if I’m okay because you’re not going to like the answer.”

Max’s chest heaves as he holds my gaze, taking a step toward me, clenching his jaw with each excruciating second that passes. “Tell me anyway.” His voice is soft compared to the hard lines of his furrowed brow.

A crack of thunder shakes the roof over our heads, and I expel a deep breath, feeling the last shred of my dignity leave the tiny house to be swept away by the storm. On an exhale, I give in and groan, “I was pleasuring myself, okay?” He stares at me without a word, making me angry that I had to confess at all when the evidence of what I was doing is sitting on the counter. My voice grows louder with my irritation. “Are you happy? Have you succeeded finally at discovering one of my secrets? Do you feel superior now knowing that you drive not only my mind wild but also my libido?” I’m practically shrieking at him as his eyes storm with something I can only assume is repulsion. “Does it make you feel like—”

“Enough,” Max growls, cutting me off as he reaches out to grip the back of my neck and haul me against him.

My startled gasp is engulfed as he crushes his lips to mine and thrusts his tongue deep into my more than accepting mouth. It’s a “zero fucks given” kind of kiss. No gentle coaxing, no tantalizing sample. It’s the kind where you don’t know where your mouth starts and his begins.

His fingers dig into my flesh as if I’d try to get away. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, practically crawling up his damp body as he folds himself over me, making me cry into the kiss as the sensations overwhelm me in the best way.

The texture of his damp shirt against my breasts chafes against my hardened nipples as he squeezes me to him. He makes a guttural noise as he sucks on my lower lip before plunging his tongue back into my mouth.

I faintly consider pushing him away. I’m kissing my boss. He’s a corporate-greed asshole whose child I care for five days a week. This is not a good idea!

But my traitorous pelvis has other ideas as it grinds into him like his dick is a magnet and I’m made of fucking metal.

Oh, my God, he’s hard.

He’s hard because of me?

A rush of heat spreads through my center as his hard cock presses so close to where I need him.

My hands slide up around his neck, scoring over the planes of his muscles while his tongue continues to claim me, his head turning from side to side like he can’t decide which angle he likes better. An image of his cock fucking my throat hits me, and my hands slide from his neck to his arms, my fingers digging into the muscly firmness of him and wanting so much more than a kiss.

His grip skates down to my back to palm my ass as he twirls me until my back hits the ladder that’s secured to the floor above. He hooks one of my legs on his hip and presses his cock into my center. The hard ridge of him thrusting forward as I brace myself on the wood, gasping for air before he finally breaks our kiss.