Unravel(15)

It took me a second to gather my breath. My heart pounded in my ribs almost to the point of being painful. Finally, when I could move without shaking, I walked around the room, looking it over. A large mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room. The walls were painted a coffee brown. Two leather chairs faced his desk and the wall to the left was nothing but a floor to ceiling bookshelf. Opposite the bookshelf was a couch that looked like it was there more for show than anything.

Max walked around the desk, only a few steps away from me. I tried not to fidget and take a step back.

“You ready to see the rest?” he asked.

The image of seeing his bedroom flashed through my head. I took a step back. Suddenly, a tour of the house didn’t seem so harmless. “It’s getting late. I should be getting home.”

He advanced slowly. “It’s only 11. But if you want to go home, I can take you home.”

I kept moving until my legs bumped into the couch. When no words came out of my mouth, he stepped closer, with one foot in between my legs, effectively caging me in.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked in that slow drawl.

I was short of breath.

“Naomi?”

My eyes were level with his chest. I had to tilt my head. Back, back, back it went until I connected with his eyes.

“What?”

“You never answered my question.”

“I can’t think,” I mumbled. “You’re invading my personal space.”

Most people would’ve backed away, but Max leaned forward. His lips were so close. It was torture. Like dangling forbidden fruit in front of my face—I just wanted a single bite.

“Are you sure?” he said.

More than anything I wanted to close my eyes right that second and lean into him. In the back of my mind I knew that he had asked a question, but I couldn’t think. His large frame loomed over me and made it impossible for me to see anything but him. His scent was wrapped around me and all I could do was inhale.

“Still invading your personal space?”

My breasts were pressed against his chest. I felt his arousal against my thigh. His eyes became hooded and my breath escaped in short gasps.

When you’re this close to another person, it’s crazy what your eyes see first. I could have noticed the way his nose brushed against mine or how his lips were inches away. But all I saw was how the tendons in his neck were strained the longer we stayed apart. I watched as his pupils dilated. The black slowly spread, taking over his hazel irises. He was stopping this kiss from happening and that made me want it more.

Then his head tilted to the left, and his lips moved against my own gently. Like he was memorizing the curve of my lips, the way they tasted. He was going slowly. He was building me up.

I didn’t have his patience. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. I raised my hands, intending to link them around his neck and pull him closer. But he intercepted my fingers and linked them with his own. Our palms touched. His grip tightened about the same time he increased the pressure of his lips. I sucked in a sharp breath.

And then Max pulled back. He blinked repeatedly. Our hands were still connected. That was all that kept us from completely touching. The silence was deafening. But it was the quiet that happens before a storm, before a strong gust of wind or a powerful lightning strike.

My mind pulled up the memory of the first time I saw him and the silent toast he gave me. Get Ready echoed in my ears before Max pulled me to him with our linked hands. Everything after that turned ferocious. I came at him with intensity that had been building up inside of me since the day I met him. My hands clawed at his shirt, trying to get him out of his clothes. He licked and sucked on my lips like I was the best thing he had ever tasted. I moaned into his mouth. I felt his knee wedged between my legs. It was then that I realized I was on the couch and he was looming above me. I was past the point of caring. Logic had disappeared the minute I stepped into that room. I was just desperate to keep his lips on mine.

I arched my back, trying to get closer.

Max’s hands drifted from my waist to grip my arms tightly. Seconds later, he pushed me away. His chest heaved as he stared down at me with a frown. I panted and licked my lips.

He held my jaw in his hand and stared at me with panic. “Son of a bitch,” he growled.

I wasn’t alone. I knew that everything I felt, so did he.

So I pressed my palms against his shoulders and pushed him onto the couch. I kicked my heels off. I hiked my dress up. I climbed over him like I owned him. He didn’t stop me. His eyes widened like he knew the balance of control was shifting out of his territory.

Just one more kiss. One more touch and I’ll be finished, I thought to myself. And in my mind it made perfect sense to keep going—to curb my craving of Max.

One quick jerk was all it took and his shirt was out of his slacks. I didn’t have enough patience to unbutton his shirt. My fingers crept under the material with a mind of their own. I rose on my knees and with my lips still on his, I dragged my fingers up his stomach, memorizing every hard ridge.

“Shit,” he hissed.

I smiled against his neck and pressed myself into him, completely aware of how tense his body was beneath me. He was ready to break. Ready to take me right here. The craziest thing out of all of this was that I wanted him to.

One more kiss? Was I delusional?

One kiss from Max and I became voracious.