The way Max kisses is incredible. It feels like his mouth is telling mine a story. He takes his time, going slow at first, effortlessly building the intensity. Increasing the drama. Every gentle brush of his lips is skillful, but passionate. Every stroke of his tongue drives me to want more and more.
Breaking away for one breathless moment, he says, “I’m going to try to go slow.”
“You don’t have to hold back,” I say, surprising myself. “I don’t even know if I want slow.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, gulping. I smile; he’s trying so hard to make this perfect for me, and in return I’m making it more difficult. I want to absorb everything he’s feeling. If he wants to give me slow and delicious, I’ll take it. If he wants wild and passionate, I’ll take that too. Whatever emotion I’m making him feel, I want to ride it with him. I’ve put so much of myself out there for him to see while he’s taken pains to keep himself hidden. More than anything, I want to glimpse inside his soul. Even if it’s through something as simple as a touch.
I think about all the times I’ve looked at him, wanting to touch him, and I take advantage now, first by unbuttoning his shirt, and then by running my hands across the smooth, hard planes of muscle underneath. Max closes his eyes again as I peel off the sleeves of his shirt. I walk around him, trailing my hand over his shoulder blades, and then over the hard, straight lines of his back, entranced by his muscles rippling beneath my fingertips. The way he’s built is kind of stunning, cut so perfectly that I’m not sure I could ever get enough of him.
My hand pauses over a jagged scar on his left shoulder. “Is this…”
“Yeah.”
It’s from the night I found him. I study the scar, swallowing at the thought of how close he came to dying. At the same time, it’s this scar that brought us together. I press my lips against his skin there. Max sucks in his breath.
Continuing to circle around him, I trace the edges of his ribcage, running my fingers across his abdomen, down lower until I reach his belt buckle—
All in one swift motion, Max stops my hands and lifts me into his arms. “What are you doing?” I screech. He carries me to the bed, gently laying me on top of the covers. He removes my suitcase from the bed, tossing it on the floor before joining me on the bed.
“All the touching is driving me crazy, woman,” he growls out.
“Woman?” I can’t help but ask, grinning. “So we’ve upgraded from kid?”
He stares down at me, his expression serious. “Right now, you’re my woman.”
I won’t admit it, but hearing him call me his woman does have a way of melting me inside. I clear my throat, trying not to overanalyze that. “So does that mean you’re my man?”
“If I’m worthy enough…”
I go still when I feel his hand slide underneath my skirt, moving up my inner thigh. “You can let me know once we’re finished.”
When he reaches the edge of my panties, his fingers slip beneath the fabric, and then inside of me. I gasp, feeling a wave of heat ripple throughout my core, expanding over every inch of my skin.
Oh, God.
The desire he’s expertly building within me is stronger than I’ve ever felt. When I open my eyes, his are locked on mine, watching my every move. I try to pull him toward me, but he shakes his head. “Not yet.”
My breath catches as his fingers continue to tease me, making me want more. They glide within me, in and out, wracking my body with tiny tremors and spasms. I want him, all of him. I want to touch him, taste him, but he’s not letting me.
Unable to help it, I moan loudly, and he stifles it with a kiss. This time I kiss him back fiercely, digging my fingers into his back. He pulls up for a brief moment to slide my shirt over my head, and then tosses it aside.
I start to unclasp my bra, and Max pauses. I swallow the fear and allow him to see all of me.
“You’re beautiful, Charlotte,” he whispers.
“Thank you,” I say. “Now can you please take your jeans off?”
He laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I love that he can laugh right now. It feels like we’re being real with each other instead of putting on a show.
“Okay Miss Impatient,” he says, sliding off his jeans. “I’m all yours.”
“Thank God.”
I clasp my arms around his neck, and he dips his head to kiss me—then suddenly stops short. “Oh, no,” he mutters, dropping his forehead against mine.
“What is it?”
“All of my condoms are in my room.”
“Well go get one,” I order him. “Quickly.”
He runs from the room, wearing only his boxers. He’s gone and back so fast, I’m actually impressed. And a little amused.
“Okay,” he says, breathless. “No more interruptions.”
Before I have time to say a word, Max’s tongue fills my mouth. It isn’t long before the mood intensifies back to life. The rest of our clothes disappear in a mad scramble to be rid of them. I hear the condom wrapper rip, and Max positions himself over me. His body tenses before he slowly pushes into me, each movement controlled and deliberate. Feeling him inside of me, filling me, is the most incredible feeling in the world, but I want more. He’s holding back, and I want him to let go. I press my hips against his, wrapping my legs around his waist. He gasps out in response. “What are you trying to do to me?”
I meet his penetrating gaze. “Make you lose control.”
He lets out another breath, and I sense he’s losing some internal battle with himself. The next time he rocks into me, I cry out from the pleasure of it. Once he completely relaxes, his movements become faster, more rhythmic, and completely attuned to mine.
Yes. This is what I’ve been craving. It feels as if his senses are becoming mine, as if we’re feeling the same things at the same time with the same intensity. I feel the emotion behind his kisses. I feel his desire. I feel his heartbeat racing alongside mine.
I arch my back, feeling him plant hot, wet kisses along my jaw and neck. We both grab at each other as if neither of us can get enough. Every time I pull Max closer to me, he moans as if the way it feels is too much to handle. I love it. I feel as if I hold some sort of power over him. God knows he holds the same power over me.
Just when I think I’m about to explode, he grips my hips, slamming into me so hard that I cry out. Max turns rigid as he pushes even deeper, sending a wave of convulsions over both of our bodies. Tiny tremors expand outward from my core, and I shiver against him.
Our rhythm gradually slows, the tight grips we have on each other loosening. He buries his face against my neck, exhaling. Once our breathing has returned to normal, he plants an incredibly tender kiss on my lips. That kiss says more than he could ever tell me in words.
In this moment, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Max
I haven’t figured out yet if I just made a horrible mistake or the best decision ever. I don’t let myself overthink it. Tomorrow I can beat myself up overanalyzing it.
She’s sleeping peacefully. I hate to move her, but being in this room doesn’t feel right. I scoop her into my arms, and she nuzzles her face against my neck. “Where are you taking me?”
“To my bedroom.”
“You could’ve just snuck out,” she says dryly. “I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
I walk quietly through the dark hallway leading to my bedroom. “That’s because you sleep like the dead. And besides, I wanted you with me.”
“Why?”
I shove open my bedroom door. “You’re exceptionally warm and soft. Like a teddy bear. Also, I think you might be radiating sedatives.”
“Aha! So you need me to help you sleep?”
“I don’t need you, kid.”
“Just admit it. You like having me around.”
I think about that for a second. She’s right. I do like having her around. Maybe a little too much. Once again—n
ot overthinking it.
I drop her on the bed.
“Oof,” she groans. “You need to work on that if you’re ever going to carry me again.”
“Who says I need to?” I hover over her, pinning her between my arms. “You should just sleep in here from now on.”
The suggestion takes us both by surprise.
She blinks, then stares at me for a long moment. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because it might confuse things…”
“Everything about the two of us is confusing. Why not just accept it and move on?”
She crinkles her brows together. “I’d like to have a clear picture of where we stand. If you want me to sleep in here, it leads me to believe you want more than what just happened. And if you don’t, then I’d rather not cross that line.”
“Charlotte, I already crossed that line the minute I touched you.”
“Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you owe me any—”
I cut her off with a kiss, refusing to let her finish the rest of that sentence. When I break away, I speak in short, uneven breaths. “You told me you have feelings for me.”
I stare at her, daring her to take it back.
“I do,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on mine.
“Then I want more than what just happened.”
“But—”
“Why does there have to be a but?” I complain. “Isn’t that what you want too?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it’s settled. You’ll sleep in here.”
As soon as she rolls her eyes, I know I’ve won. “This has to be the most one-sided conversation in the history of conversations.”
“That’s because it didn’t need to be one. You gave me your heart, Charlotte. I’m going to do everything in my power not to break it.”
Her lips curve into a small smile. “I thought you said I’d end up running.”
“It’s possible,” I admit, sighing. “I don’t know if I’m any good at this. God knows I don’t have the first clue about relationships. But I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to make you happy.”
She takes my face between her hands. “Just hearing you say that already makes me happy.”
I kiss her again, feeling relieved as hell. She lets out a soft moan, and it vibrates against my lips. Suddenly neither of us is sleepy anymore. It amazes me how much I already want her again, but I do. Badly.
Good thing I’m not thinking about bad decisions until tomorrow. That means I can keep digging myself further into this. I’m okay with that. With Charlotte, the repercussions feel like rewards.
***
“Quick!” someone screeches. It’s an awful, high-pitched shrilly voice—Steph. I’m not ready to wake up, but she’s getting louder by the second. “They’re going to kill him!”
Charlotte stirs beside me. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice still sleepy.
“Charlotte? Why are you in here?”
“I um…” She clears her throat.
“Steph, there better be a good fucking reason you’re waking me up at—” I open my eyes to look at my alarm clock. Eight o’clock? That can’t be right.
“Max you need to come now,” she says, sounding borderline hysterical. “Her brothers are here. Trevor slammed the door in their faces. Now they’re two seconds away from choking him to death.”
“My brothers?” Charlotte sits upright, her face pale. “All of them?”
Steph nods. “Unless you know any other tall, blonde good ole boys, I’m guessing they’re related to you.”
“Wonderful,” Charlotte mumbles.
We hear angry muffled voices coming from downstairs. All three of us spring into action. Steph runs from the room first, looking worried.
Charlotte untangles herself from the sheets and scrambles to get out of the bed. “I need to get dressed.”
I grab the first clothes in reach, tugging a T-shirt over my head. “How did they find you?”
“Luke must’ve snitched on me. He never was very good at keeping secrets. I should’ve known better.”
“Why do you think they’re here?”
“Probably to tell me how irresponsible I am, and to send me back to Gainesville.” She heads for the door, shaking her head. “I swear, sometimes they’re more overbearing than my parents.”
Ice trickles over my skin. I follow her, spinning her around just as she reaches for the handle. She looks at me, alarmed. “What’s the matter? Did I say something—”
“You’re not leaving,” I say, surprised by the fear in my voice.
She blinks several times. “Of course I’m not leaving.”
My fingers loosen around her wrist. I didn’t realize how tight of a grip I had on her. “Sorry,” I immediately apologize.
“It’s okay.” She leans up to wrap her arms around my neck. “Max, my brothers can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. They might try, but—”
“They’ll answer to me first.”
Charlotte frowns. “I was going to say that I’m an adult, and that I make my own decisions.” She tilts her head to the side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, looking away. “I’m fine.”
My heart is still beating a million times per second. I don’t want to admit how close I came to going apeshit-crazy over the thought of her leaving because she’s already giving me a worried look.
“You need to trust me, Max,” she says softly. “I can handle my brothers.”
Trust. I’m not sure it will ever be that easy—just one of the many reasons I doubt I can make this work. But looking at her now, seeing the way she’s pleading, I know I need to try.
“Go get dressed, kid. I’ll hold them off until you get down there.”
She flashes a smile before running off. “Thanks, Max—I’ll be quick!”
As soon as she’s gone, I finish getting dressed and head downstairs, taking the steps two and three at a time. Trev’s voice echoes throughout the house. “Okay. Fine. It wasn’t exactly polite to shut the door in your face.”
“Let him down,” Steph orders them, her voice full of rage. “Or I’m calling the police!”
Two very male versions of Charlotte are in the living room, keeping Trevor pinned to the wall. I recognize the other brother, Lucas, standing quietly in the corner, holding his hands over his head. When he sees me, he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect them to do this.”
Lucas’s voice catches the attention of everyone else.
“Let him go. Now.”
They might be Charlotte’s brothers, but they’re in my house putting their hands on my cousin. I’ll be the first one to admit he’s an irritating little shit, but that doesn’t give any of them the right to touch him.
“Sure,” one of them says, grinning.
It’s then that I realize they’re holding Trev about a foot in the air. When they drop him, he lands on the tile floor on his back with a thud.
Steph helps him to his feet, still glaring. “Assholes.”
“Look, we’re just here to see our sister,” the taller of the two says to me.
“And to find out what she’s doing here,” the other one adds, “but that’s beside the point.”
“I’m fine,” Charlotte shouts, breathless from racing down the stairs. She immediately steers an accusing glare on Lucas. “So you gave me up?”
“I had no choice,” he rushes to explain. “They made me—”
“Don’t blame him, Char,” says the tallest brother. His voice is authoritative, giving me the impression he might be the oldest. “You weren’t in Gainesville, and we know you tell Luke everything. Now it’s your turn to start talking. Wanna tell us what you’re doing in Miami with these people?”
Charlotte’s eyes go back and forth between her brothers. She crosses her arms over her chest, frowning. I can tell by her face she doesn’t want to explain anything, but she’s cornered. “Fine,” she agree
s. “Out on the patio. I have five minutes, and that’s all, or else I’m going to be late for work.”
“Work? You have a job down here too?”
She points to the back patio. “Out there. We’re having this conversation in private.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Char
My brothers have a way of making me feel inferior to them. It’s been that way since I was little. Dealing with just one of them is hard enough, but dealing with all three leaves me feeling backed into a corner. It’s too bad my mom didn’t have me first or even second. Of course, if she’d had me after Forde, she probably would’ve been done having children. The only reason she kept trying was because she really wanted a girl. If I had come after Forde, Wyatt and Lucas wouldn’t even be in the picture.
I try to remind myself how much I love all of my brothers, and how grateful I am to my mom for conceiving three boys before me.
So grateful.
“So you’re still technically in school?” Forde clarifies after I’m finished explaining. He’s got the father role down pat. The stern look he’s giving me right now is an exact replica of our dad’s; his head is tilted slightly to the side, arms crossed over his chest, and his left brow is raised.
“Yes, I’m taking online classes. I’m due to graduate at the end of the semester.”
Wyatt shakes his head, frowning. “I still don’t like it. Who are these people, Char? How do you know them?”
Out of all my brothers, Wyatt is the hardest to deal with. He’s the first one to pick a fight, and he’s never reasonable about anything. We’re all known for our skepticism, but he takes it to extremes. He believes everyone is hiding something.
“They’re my friends,” I say, exasperated. “And for the time being, my roommates.”
“The tall, dark-haired one—is he your boyfriend?”
Wyatt’s knowing question catches me off guard. “No.” I hesitate for a moment too long, and it doesn’t sound believable.
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