“I CANNOT BELIEVE you punched him,” I said, still laughing even though it’d happened a half hour ago. I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the door. “Normally I would hate that kind of machismo, but I hate Evan even more, so you’re kind of my hero.”
“Wonderful,” Max quipped, pocketing his keys and climbing out of the truck. “Now my life is complete.”
When he came around to my side of the truck, I put a hand on his chest to stop him for a second. We’d just pulled up to a place called Shirley’s Diner, out in the middle of nowhere, because we were both too hungry to wait until we got home to eat. “Seriously, though. Thank you.”
He looked down at me, and his eyes traveled over every part of me.
“Y’know,” he said, his voice deep as his mouth slid into a sexy half-smile, “now would be a good time for me to kiss you.”
I tried to be cool, because kissing was just kissing, but something about the way he kept looking at my lips made me a bit . . . jumpy. “I suppose.”
“But would you mind . . .” He glanced around the parking lot and then he said, “Come on.”
Max grabbed my hand and started walking, but slowed down when he realized his strides were much longer than mine, especially when I was in three-inch pumps. The sun was warm on my face and my exposed shoulder as he led me around the side of the building, where there was nothing but evening shade, grass, and bushes.
“Where are we going?” I asked, and then he slowed.
He let go of my hand and smirked down at me. “Well, if this kiss is all about me and what I want, I want to kiss you up against the wall.”
“Oh,” I breathed, unable to form any other words as his big body backed mine against the side of the building. I was sandwiched between him and the wall, and I loved it.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, his mouth inches from mine.
“Um, yes,” I managed, my pulse pounding as he looked down at me like he had big plans. Very big, very dirty plans.
“And I want your hands on me.” His voice was dark as he set my palms in the middle of his chest. “If that works for you.”
“Yes,” was all I could manage as his hands pressed on mine and his mouth moved closer.
His lips were soft when they landed, a teasing breath as they slid against mine, ever so slightly, as if convincing my lips to open. It was feather-soft seduction, a barely there sexual suggestion, and it was wickedly potent.
Especially when his teeth nipped at my bottom lip and he whispered, “This fucking lipstick.”
Then everything changed.
He sucked in a breath, and his hands moved to rest on the sides of my neck, long fingers pressing into my sensitive skin while his palms held me in place.
His mouth slanted over mine, wide and hot, and I stood on my tiptoes, needing leverage.
Leverage to lean in as he kissed my mouth like he was famished and I was nourishment. Like he’d been deprived of kissing me every minute of his life and was making up for lost time. It was a complete onslaught, utterly unbridled, and I couldn’t get enough.
Unruly, fucking feral—Max’s mouth was primal passion and chaotic lust, and I dug my fingernails into his chest, not caring if I scratched him. I was grasping for purchase as he set me on fire, and any collateral damage was entirely his fault.
He kept going, demanding more with his lips and tongue and teeth, and I let him have everything he wanted, my mouth melting into his, helpless to do anything but give in with reckless abandon.
When he muttered a curse and lifted his mouth from mine, my mind immediately thought, Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded as he looked down at me and said, “You are a genius, Steinbeck.”
“I know,” I said breathily as I nipped at his lower lip, begging him to come back.
“You are also,” he growled, returning the favor by scraping his teeth along my mouth, “so fucking sexy that it might just kill me.”
“Hey, settle down there, Parks,” I said, dropping my hand from his chest and squeezing out from the Max-and-building sandwich I’d been the center of, suddenly feeling like it was important to remind him of our roles. Hell, I’d almost forgotten—the kiss was that good. “It was just a kiss, remember? You were kissing yourself and I could’ve been anyone. If that kiss was sexy, that just means you are one sexy guy.”
He stared down at me for a few seconds, not saying anything. He was doing that thing again, where I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and his jaw clenched together like he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.
“Max?” I asked, my breathing still unsteady.
He swallowed and looked down at his sideways tie. “You should fix your lipstick before we go in.”
