He stroked her smooth back, her soft bottom, and she mimicked his every move, squeezing where he squeezed, scratching where he scratched. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his erection for one brief moment before bringing his hand between them to find her center. She whimpered into his mouth as he thumbed her still swollen flesh.
She yanked her mouth free. “Max, I want you.”
“And you’re going to have me as soon as you do one more thing for me.”
“What?” Her body tensed in his arms and her nails dug into his shoulders. He quickened his caress. Orgasm overtook her.
“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispered against her temple once she stopped shuddering.
Her lips and teeth found his shoulder, surprising him with a gentle love bite and punching him with another arousing jolt. She impatiently shoved his swim trunks down his legs and wrapped her fingers around his length. She stroked him long and slow from base to tip and back again.
His teeth clamped shut on a furnace blast of desire. It slammed him like a runaway trolley, winding him, making his head spin. He struggled to right himself and then kicked aside his trunks and tore the condom open with his teeth. She tried to take it from him, but he was so triggered he didn’t dare let her. He grabbed her hand and redirected it to less dangerous territory—his waist. Only that ended up being more hazardous than he’d anticipated as her nails traced havoc-wreaking patterns on his skin with devastating results.
He rolled on the latex with an unsteady hand, ripped back the comforter and backed her onto the mattress. She lay down and he caressed her long, luscious legs apart. He wanted to feast on her, to nibble from toes to earlobes, lingering and making her cry out again and again. He wanted that too much.
How could he want Dana this way when he’d never had a sexual thought about her before that kiss? He brushed aside the question and positioned himself. He intended to take it slow, to control his passion and keep his head the way he always did, but then she wrapped a hand around his nape, pulling him down for a kiss, and simultaneously hooked a leg behind his butt and pressed him forward. Slow and rational ceased to be an option.
He sank deep into her mouth and into the hot, slick glove of her body simultaneously. Hunger grabbed him by the groin and the throat, and a groan of pleasure barreled its way out of his chest. Instinct took over. He couldn’t slow the thrust of his tongue or his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, engaging in a mental and physical tug of war for control. Reining himself in was no longer a sure thing. It was a damned risky proposition.
He fought through the animalistic drive riding him and tried to focus on her pleasure. This was about her, about keeping her from Lewis’s bed. But damned if he gave a flip about his motives at the moment.
He swiveled his hips against her. She broke the kiss. “That f-feels g-good.”
Her breathy, broken words drove him to repeat the maneuver again and again until her back bowed and her nails raked his back, his thighs, his chest. She nipped his shoulder—another gentle love bite—and that was all it took. He crossed the line, the point of no return. He pounded into her. Deeper, harder, faster. Again. Again. Her gasps and cries fueled him.
When he felt her tense, heard her breath catch, he did the same. Fighting his way back from the brink became a lost cause. Orgasm ripped through her, making her body squeeze his and forcing the air from her lungs in a sexy groan. And he lost it. His own release battered him over and over until he was spent. His lungs burned. His arm muscles quivered and then collapsed. He landed on her. It took seconds to regain his strength and lift himself from the warm, damp, soft cushion of her body. Not that he wanted to leave. And that worried him.
Her eyes remained closed, her lashes a dark fan on her flushed cheeks. But it was the smile curving her lips that nailed him right in the chest. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.
What the…?
His arms snapped straight and then he rolled off her and landed on the bed. The bed that smelled like Dana. Like Dana and hot sex.
Why had he kissed her that way? He didn’t do tender gestures. Not anymore. Sex was sex. Basic. Primal. Satisfaction of a need. And in this case, a way to protect his assets. No emotion required or desired.
But damn, he wanted to ask her about that smile. If it meant what he thought it did—that this was more than just physical release for her—then he needed to warn her. Temporary was his MO. His only MO. He would never marry again.
But if he warned her off and she got huffy, then his honesty could cause problems. One, she might quit. Two, she might pout and refuse to speak to him—the way Karen sometimes had. Three, anger might drive her back to Lewis. None of those options would help him get Honor completed on time.
So he’d have to suck it up and hope like hell she didn’t get emotionally attached. Because happily ever after might make for a great film, but it had no place in his life.
Six
Dana couldn’t stop smiling.
She lay flat on her back, eyes closed, fighting the urge to grin like a fool. Max lay beside her. She could hear his rapid breathing, feel his body heat and smell him. She inhaled deeply. Correction, she could smell them and the intoxicating aroma of their lovemaking. The urge to grin grew stronger.
Making love with him had exceeded her fantasies. And she couldn’t ask for more. She was so happy they’d finally taken this step—even if she didn’t know what had precipitated it.
The mattress shifted. She forced her heavy eyelids open in time to see Max leaving the bed. She soaked up the sight of his broad shoulders, tight butt, and long, muscled legs as he bent to scoop up his swim trunks from the floor. Yummy.
He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom without looking back. Something felt a little off. She chalked it up to the awkwardness of the first time with a new partner. Not that she had a whole lot of experience with that circumstance. And he did have the condom to deal with.
Rolling out of bed, she gathered her suit and shifted on her feet as she tried to figure out what to do next. Put the suit back on? Get dressed? Climb back in bed? She still hadn’t made up her mind when Max returned dressed in his trunks.
His gaze rolled over her, lingering on her breasts, which tightened in response to his widening pupils and intense expression. His gaze coasted past her waist and hips to her legs and then slowly returned. His eyes stalled briefly on her navel ring before gliding up until they locked with hers once more. She saw suppressed passion but also caution in his eyes.
Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her swimsuit. A sudden and unexpected wave of insecurity made her want to cover up. He dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. How did she measure up? She certainly wasn’t as skinny as his usual type. And she wasn’t blonde.
“I’m going to take a quick swim and have lunch before getting back to work. Shall I cook enough for two?”
She blinked in surprise. He’d taken her to restaurants for working lunches, but he’d never prepared anything for her or even offered to fetch anything for her from the Hudson Pictures canteen. And while all he’d be doing was heating up something the caterer had left, that he’d offer to include her now made her feel all warm and fuzzy and cherished.
“I could make lunch.” She’d rather stay here and cuddle with him. But they really didn’t have time for that.
“I can handle it. You take a shower or…whatever it is women do after…sex.”
Sex. She’d rather he called it making love. But he was a guy. A commitment-phobic guy. “Maybe I, um, could join you in the pool and then we could make the meal together.”
“I’m going to swim laps.” He turned on his heel and exited through her patio door.
Confused,