Waiting for Willa (Big Sky, #3)(35)

I chew and swallow.

“You made a mistake, buddy.”

“How’s that?”

I picture him leaning back in a chair behind a desk with his white dress shirt unbuttoned. He’s got his feet up on the desktop, and a leggy blonde is standing behind him, rubbing her grabby hands over his chest the way they do in movies.

“First of all, tell the blonde to get her hands off of you.”

Silence.

See? I knew it.

“Do you have a fever?” he asks at last.

“No, I’m just not stupid,” I reply, my words slurring only a little. “And, second, I went out with the girls tonight, and we danced and drank a lot. Alex is gone, and I’m home alone. You could have gotten laid, pal.”

“Really.”

“Oh, yeah. Because when I’ve been drinking, I get horny. And I would rock your damn world. But, no, you’re in Seattle with a blond bimbo who’s touching your chest, and that pisses me off.”

“There’s no blonde. Bimbo or otherwise.”

“Sure.”

“Is that why you think I left town?”

“I dunno.” I frown and feel tears threaten. “You just left. And in the movies, there’s a blond bimbo with her hands on you.”

“You had a lot to drink.”

“Lot of good it did me,” I pout and stuff another chip into my mouth. “No interruptions, and I don’t even get to have sex.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have called you. It was stupid.”

“You should always call me. Whenever you want.”

“I’m confused,” I whisper. “And you hurt my feelings. You don’t get sex. I’ll go find my vibrator.”

I hang up and stumble into the bedroom, pull the box from the top shelf of my closet, and find the toy, but by the time I get ready for bed and climb in, I’m tired, so I put it back in the box.

And my girls’ night out fun is washed away by missing Max.

Suddenly, my front door opens and closes, and I spring up in the bed, immediately sober.

“I have a gun!” I shout, wishing fervently that I really had a gun.

“Don’t shoot.”

Max walks into my bedroom, shocking the hell out of me.

“I could have killed you!”

He circles the bed, not afraid in the least.

“Where’s your gun?”

“Well, I don’t actually have one.”

He grins, and it hits me right in the gut.

“Why are you so handsome?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer, he just watches me. “No, really. That wasn’t rhetorical.”

“I missed you,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets. “And I want to climb in that bed with you, but I don’t know if I’m welcome.”

“Is there really a blond bimbo?”

He narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw, and I have my answer.

“No.”

I fold the covers back. “Then you’re welcome.”

He’s not in a suit, or even in a white button-down. He’s in a grey Henley and jeans, and he peels them both off quickly, making my mouth water.

We have so much to talk about, but my mind is cloudy, and he’s sexy, and I want him. I’ve missed him, too.

“How many men do I have to kill?”

“No one actually broke in,” I remind him, but he laughs and shakes his head as he climbs into the bed with me.

“No, how many men hit on you tonight?”

“None.” I drag my hands down his back and sigh in delight when I cup his ass. “I don’t give off a come-hit-on-me vibe.”

“What kind of vibe do you give off?”

“It’s more of an I’m with my friends, and if you hit on me, I’ll laugh at you, vibe.”

“I can live with that,” Max says and buries his face in my neck, kissing me as his hands roam over my skin, seemingly everywhere at once.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I came home a few hours ago.” He kisses my cheek. “I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

“Good.” I lift my legs as he settles between them, and his hard cock nestles against my wet heat. “Because you belong here.”

“Right here,” he agrees as he slides back and forth, making me crazy. “And I won’t be leaving again unless you’re with me.”

“Okay.” I arch my back, desperate to have him in me. “Max, I need—”

“What do you need, baby?”

“You to slip inside me.”

He smiles against my lips, rears back, and slowly pushes his way inside until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Like that?”

“Yeah.” I’m panting now, gripping his shoulders with all my might. I can feel the edge just out of my reach. “Move.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Needy,” I correct him and arch my back again. He complies, moving in and out, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. Each time his pubic bone meets my clit, he gives it a little extra push, and I swear to God my eyes cross.

“Jesus Christ, you feel good,” he mutters. He’s moving feverishly now, chasing his own orgasm, and I can’t control myself anymore. My hips buck, and I cry out as the orgasm washes over me. Max follows, groaning against my neck.