An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(64)

“Sure,” she said a little too quickly, in a voice that was husky and filled with desire. “Sounds good.”

“We’ll be there,” Max said with a salute toward Josh, who turned quickly and jogged back the way he came.

Max rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Well, that’ll give Ruby something to talk about for the next million years.”

Grace groaned and dropped her head to his shoulder. “She’ll never let me live this down.”

Max patted her hair before gently moving away. She was altogether too f*cking tempting with her heat, scent, and willingness, and they’d never be ready in time if they started again. He stood carefully from the hammock and stretched his arms above his head.

When he turned back, Grace’s eyes were all over him and all about the sex.

“Jesus,” he muttered into his palm with a smile. “Stop it, or we’ll never leave.”

“What?” she asked with an innocent blink.

“You know what.” He laughed, offering her his hand, which she took without pause. “Come on, let’s get ready. I need a cold shower.”

The shower Max took was frigid. Still, he seriously deliberated about whacking one out. Knowing Grace was in the next room all sweet and oblivious to her sexiness, however, made him equal parts exhilarated and uneasy about the prospect. After much debate, he decided against it and tried his best to think unsexy thoughts—rehab, Tate, therapy—which worked wonderfully until, after dressing, he walked back into the room to find Grace leaning over her suitcase in nothing but her underwear.

Sweet Jesus.

Her ass looked freaking spectacular, cupped by red lace that accentuated the caramel tone of her skin. He slumped against the doorjamb, stunned by the lascivious images that were suddenly flashing through his brain.

Apparently, he made a noise of appreciation, because Grace abruptly spun around with a sound of surprise, using her arms and hands to try to hide the red lace bra and panty set she wore. But that shit was futile. Max had seen all he needed to bring his body roaring back to ready, set, let’s f*ck.

He tried to be a gentleman, truly he did, but his eyes betrayed him on every level, skating across her thighs, her waist, before seeking out that luscious mystery between her legs. He cleared his throat, mumbled an apology, and wandered across the bedroom, finding a spot that was as far away from her as possible. When he turned back, she was clutching a towel to her body, looking as aroused as he was feeling.

After a moment of tense silence, a laugh of incredulity burst from him. “Shit, woman, you’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own and I thought you’d be longer in there and—” Grace paused for a moment before creasing into infectious giggles. “Oh my God, your face.”

Max couldn’t help but laugh with her and it felt so damned good. “Mine? What about yours?”

He shook his head. He felt totally unbalanced around her, he lacked control, all sense eluded him, yet, instead of it causing any anxiety, he found himself embracing it. Her spontaneity and apparent amusement at his enduring desire for her were fresh and new, leaving a sensation of something that felt suspiciously like happiness creeping through the dark crevasses of his soul.

She snorted and breathed deeply, trying to regain some sort of calm while wafting her hands by her face. “I’ve just done my mascara, dammit!”

“Okay, well, I’ll go down to hang with the guys while you finish”—he motioned toward her—“you know, dressing.”

Grace coughed a laugh. “Okay.”

Running his hands through his hair in a fruitless attempt to delete the images invading his mind, Max found his uncle and Josh sitting by the bar in the sitting room. Both men whispered heatedly, clearly up to shit, but sat up straight, shutting up quickly when they saw Max approach. Bastards. Uncle Vince cocked a suspicious eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak.

Max held up a hand. “Don’t think because you’re old I won’t beat you,” he said simply, to which both men boomed with laughter. Max took a seat next to them, smiling.

“Well, at least a hammock is creative,” Uncle Vince muttered around the lip of his beer bottle. “Even your aunt and I haven’t tried that.”

Both Josh and Max groaned in distaste before the latter dropped his head to his forearm. His uncle slapped his back. “Oh, come on, Maxie, lighten up! When was the last time I got to rib you about getting fresh with a girl, huh? Let me have my fun!” He turned his eyes back to Josh. “I remember when his father and I caught him with this girl at the back of his shop.”

A disbelieving laugh exploded out of Max. “Really? We’re still on that?”

“Absofreakinlutely we are, boy.” His uncle pressed a finger to the bar top. “Until I can’t speak no more, we’ll be on this!”

Josh chuckled. “What happened?”

Uncle Vince looked far too excited for Max’s taste. “Well, Max’s daddy and I were—”

“Seriously?” Max complained through a smile.

“—working on this hot as hell Corvette, when Connor noticed that Max had disappeared.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have bothered Connor usually, he let Max have a lot of freedom, but Max should have been helping out at the shop as part of his punishment for something else he’d done. Little shit was always in some sort of trouble.” His words were truth, but he smiled fondly at Max.