Unravel (7 page)

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.

Lip biting.

Bare skin touching.

Hands all over.

I wanted it all.

My tongue dragged down his throat and flicked against the skittering of his pulse. I pulled my hands from underneath his shirt and went straight for the buttons. I was ready to see what I was touching. He helped me. I anxiously parted his shirt and pushed him deeper into the sofa.

For a second, I looked down at him. Taking in his impressive body. Without realizing it, I started to rub myself against him. Both of his hands wrapped around my hips. His fingers pressed deeper into my skin and his breathing increased as my hands traced every muscle.

I was ready to lick every single line and curve of his stomach. I lowered my head and lightly bit down on his pec. A groan tore from Max’s throat.

“Naomi.”

I closed my eyes, as my name came from his mouth, making his chest vibrate against my ear.

“Do you want me to fuck you right here?” His voice was a deep rasp. Almost like he was in pain. “Because I’m seconds away from doing just that.”

I lifted my head. Instead of answering him, my fingers grabbed his silk tie and used it to tug him closer. There were a billion ways to tell him no. I whispered into his mouth and said, “Yes.”

A harsh sound tore from the back of his throat. All control was stolen from me in seconds. Max crushed our mouths together before he licked my lower lip, bit down and sucked it strongly enough to make my fingers dig into his shoulders in pain and pleasure. My fingers raked through his hair, and I tugged on the strands, making him tilt his head back.

He responded by tugging down the straps of my dress with hard jerks, exposing my breasts. There was a pause. The two of us panting. My nipples tightened. The way I was sitting made them inches away from his face.

I watched in silent torture as his eyes stayed rooted on my chest. His nostrils flared before he cupped my breasts in both hands. “Fucking perfect,” he growled.

I whimpered when he massaged them, pressed them together. Kissed the curve of one swell. He was killing me. Every noise I made seemed to spur him on.

He looked up at me. Our eyes locked. I saw the wild look in his eyes. Slowly, Max leaned forward and repeatedly flicked his tongue against my nipple. For a few minutes it was torture and complete pleasure as he went back and forth. And then his hands were everywhere at once. Pushing my dress down my stomach, brushing against my lace underwear with teasing strokes. He was hitting pleasure points at a rapid pace. I couldn’t keep up and not once did he give me a break to catch my breath.

Over and over he built me up with his hands, his lips. And I knew I was right there. So close to breaking apart.

And then his hands curled around my arms. He pushed me away, breathing harshly. I almost cried out. He flipped me over, looming above me.

Out of nowhere I heard Lachlan’s voice in my head. I heard the words he said to me almost a year ago.

“I’m going to be here waiting.”

Suddenly, I felt like a traitor. A traitor against my heart. A traitor for kissing and feeling things for someone that wasn’t Lachlan.

“Stop,” I panted.

Max leaned back, frowning at me. I instantly jumped off the couch. I quickly fixed the straps of my dress. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It took me three tries to cover myself and even then, I still felt naked.

Disbelief made my heart thunder in my chest.

How did it get out of control so quickly?

I turned back around. My answer was right in front of me. Max. He looked sexy, disheveled, and so completely tempting I almost took a step forward.

He was standing up now. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and his tie was skewed, trailing down his naked chest. Every time he panted, his stomach muscles would clench, making my body react. His hair was in every direction.

“Why did you stop?” he panted.

I stumbled from the couch, toward the other side of the room. I didn’t know how to answer him. Everything I said right now would be fueled by lust, my desire for him and what we almost did and what I still wanted to do.

“I-I just—” I fumbled through my words.

“Is everything okay?”

No, everything wasn’t okay. The shadow of my first love wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t say the truth though. Instead, I smiled and said: “Everything’s fine. We were just… moving too fast.”

“Moving too fast,” he repeated.

I nodded and watched as he slipped off his tie and blindly tossed it at his desk. He buttoned his shirt back up and I wanted to tell him to stop.

He caught me staring. “You can’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I breathed.

“Like you want us to keep going.”

I looked away and never answered him.

Max stopped in front of me. “You’ll be here for the rest of the summer?” he asked.

I nodded and watched him with confusion.

Letting out a deep breath, Max dragged both hands through his hair and leveled me with a determined look. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Because of what just happened?” I asked.

“Does that,” he gestured toward the couch, “happen to you often?”

If
that
happened to me often, I would need a pacemaker. What just happened was almost soul-shaking.

“No,” I finally admitted.

It was the answer he wanted. He nodded and swiped his keys from the desk before he stalked toward me. He stood in front of me and cupped my face. His eyes were still hard, with the same wild look that had been there when he kissed me.

“Give me the summer.” His voice lowered into sexy whisper. “While you’re here, be with me.”

“And that’s it?” I challenged. “I’m free to do whatever after that?”

His jaw flexed. “Give me right now.”

Both of us were avoiding what needed to be asked: would either of us be free after this summer?

I couldn’t deny this raw hunger between us any more than he could, and I knew, deep down, that if I skipped this chance, I would regret it.

Maybe forever.

My answer was a simple nod. His head lowered. Lips touched mine gently. My body shook.

Fuck the truth. It was the heart that was my worst enemy. It was the one that was going to cut me. Bleed me. It would be the one to kill me.

Max drove me back to Lana’s house. I was on autopilot the entire ride. My mind kept rewinding back to the two of us on his couch.

When he dropped me off, I sat outside. For minutes? Hours? Beats me. I just stared at the clear black sky, hoping that I would forget about our kiss. That’s the thing though, logic made that impossible. Logic seemed to disappear in the moment I needed it the most, but reared its practical head when everything was said and done. And right now, it was showing me everything I did wrong.

What did you think, Naomi? That you could be alone with him and nothing would happen?

I rested my elbows on my knees and looked down at the brick steps.

Why did you even tell him to go back to the house? Why?

Good question. Why didn’t I tell him to just take me home?

I didn’t have an answer. Nothing valid, at least. The only thing I had was excuses. It was those looks he gave me during dinner. Or when he put his hand on my lower back. It was an act of protectiveness and chivalry. Maybe it was when we changed positions and his body was beneath me? The power I felt in that moment made my skin tingle. I could get drunk from that much power. When my head was pressed against his chest, I heard the solid beat of his heart; his scent had engulfed me. I had stayed perfectly still, hoping that maybe if I pressed deep enough, his scent would sink underneath my skin.

It was all of those things wrapped into one. It built, and gathered speed, and catapulted us to that one kiss.

A kiss that changed everything.

I brushed my finger against my lower lip. I couldn’t even call it a kiss. A kiss to me was two people’s lips touching. Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s sweet and innocent. Sometimes lust takes over.

But never does a kiss combust into something so powerful that even your heart feels it. Every touch, every moan, every breath becomes electrified.