Callie kissed her again, silencing the unspoken. They made out across the room, until with a little shove Callie broke the kiss and sent Max onto her back across the king-size bed.
“Maybe you should stop overthinking,” Callie suggested, as she shed her winter coat and kicked off her shoes.
Max nodded.
“I feel good.” Callie pulled down the zipper of her warmup jacket. “Better than I have in ages. I want to revel in that for a while, if it’s okay with you.”
“Very okay.”
Crossing her arms at her waist and clutching the hem of her tight, long-sleeve athletic shirt, Callie did a sexy little shimmy to work it up over her head.
Max started to sit up, but with a little shake of her head, Callie stopped her, still supine and propped on her elbows. She stared up in awe as Callie stripped out of her sport bra.
“You’re not used to lying back and letting things happen, are you?”
“Nope.”
Callie slowly peeled back the waistband of her yoga-style curling pants. “How are you doing so far?”
“Surprisingly okay with my new role here,” Max managed, through the mix of awe and lust overwhelming her.
“You’re a quick learner,” Callie said, with a grin that raised the temperature in the room several more degrees. Then, pulling the pants away, she straightened up in nothing but some navy blue Team USA briefs with a red and white waistband.
Max had never been so conflicted about flag-themed apparel in her life. She didn’t know if she should try to lower the banner or stand and salute the perfection it encased. Either way, she felt certain no one in the long, proud history of American sports had done the red-white-and-blue prouder than Callie Mulligan. She was a work of athletic art, a study in contrast between hard planes and soft curves. As she bent forward and crawled onto the bed, her body extended over Max in all its elongated and flexed glory, the only thing she could think was, “God bless the USA.”
And then they were off again, a blur of bodies and blankets, as Callie had apparently done enough slow stripping for both of them and set about removing Max’s clothes in more rapid fashion. Her skilled hands made short work of buttons and belts alike, while Max busied herself with the business of kissing the newly exposed skin along Callie’s collarbone.
She did have to stop long enough to kick off her shoes and help push her own slacks toward the floor in a move that wasn’t nearly as graceful as Callie’s had been, but she knew better than to start comparing their levels of grace. Callie had her outmatched in every area. Still, Max hoped that what she lacked there, she made up for with gusto as she kissed and bit along Callie’s neck and shoulder. Of all the body parts she’d ever found sexy, somehow she’d missed shoulders until this moment, or maybe she’d simply never had the pleasure of knowing shoulders like Callie’s existed, so strong and muscular. She ran her tongue along the ridges and grooves that shifted and flexed as Callie held her own body weight suspended above her.
“You’re incredible,” Max whispered against taut skin.
“Not bad yourself.”
She started to scoff, but Callie captured one of her nipples between her teeth, causing a strangled breath to be pushed out and sucked right back in. She arched her back up off the bed, pushing her chest forward for more of the attention Callie was currently providing. She wasn’t surprised Callie paid attention to detail or had an above-average capacity for precision, but she was impressed at what having those abilities applied to her own body could do to her. She sank back into the bed, only to arch up again with each pass of Callie’s skilled tongue, and then, without breaking her concentration, Callie began to work her hands lower.
Somehow able to focus on so many things at once, Callie demanded the same of Max as she stroked her way across stomach and sides and then, with a maddeningly quick pass, moved down to her thighs. She needed precious little pressure to ease them apart, but even with the task accomplished took her sweet time working back up to their apex. Max couldn’t figure out what she found more enticing, the light scrape of fingernails along the inside of her legs or the graze of teeth along her breast. Thankfully she didn’t have to choose, as Callie seemed fully capable not only of maintaining both, but also of escalating them simultaneously.
She whimpered and threaded her fingers through Callie’s long, amber hair and reveled in the contrast between its softness and the hard body pressing against her. Everything about this woman felt like raw power laced with luxury. She could get lost in that delicious mix and never want to return, but Callie wouldn’t let her slip away in any sense. Insistent and accomplished in everything she did, she kept drawing Max’s focus back, this time with a teasing run along the center of Max’s need.
The fleeting contact sent a jolt of electricity through Max, causing her hips to buck completely off the bed. Callie smiled against her chest, a sure sign she both understood and enjoyed her power in this situation. Still, now that they’d gotten to this moment, she didn’t appear much fonder of waiting than Max, and instead of pulling back, she continued to steadily tighten her circles, homing in on the place they both wanted to be.
“Yes,” Max whispered, then said more hoarsely, “please.”
She didn’t have to beg. Callie obliged, circling and increasing her pressure at the same time. Max’s vision swam, and she shut her eyes against the onslaught of nerve endings in overdrive, immediately regretting the move. She wanted to see Callie, wanted to look into those hypnotic eyes that had held her spellbound more times than she would admit anywhere but here and now. Forcing lust-laden lids open, she used a majority of her remaining fortitude and, tugging lightly on Callie’s hair, urged her up until their eyes were level once more.
Callie seemed to get the message and held Max’s gaze, continuing the rhythm they’d established. She was so freaking beautiful, so strong, so skilled, so intensely focused Max couldn’t withstand the combination for long. She managed to maintain contact with those hazel eyes as the first wave of orgasm shook through her, but then crumpled in on herself as every muscle in her body contracted. Eyes shut tight, and her mind blinding white, she surrendered completely to Callie’s stable presence as she shook. Callie pressed their foreheads together and used the weight of her body to hold them both tightly, to one another and the bed, her strength absorbing the impact of Max’s shaking form. Her persistence never wavered as she continued to stroke and coax every bit of energy she had to give. Then, continuing to hold fast, they relaxed into each other.
“I am mush,” Max finally mumbled.
Callie’s lips curled up.
“You reduced me to a puddle of flab and contentment.”
Callie opened her eyes and allowed them to flick a quick course across Max’s supine form. “I’m glad about the contentment part, but I beg to differ about the flab.”
“Says the woman with biceps that could strangle a python.”
Laughter bubbled up inside her. “You’re such a writer. My biceps are totally average in my line of work.”
“That’s like saying Batman is totally average for the Justice League.”
Callie shook her head. “You’re so quick with those comebacks. Does it get tiring always having something witty to say?”
“Positively exhausting.” Max’s grin took on more of a Cheshire cat quality. “But speaking of quick comebacks, how can I repay the favor?”
“You don’t have to.” Callie noted that despite Max’s bravado, she had yet to so much as lift her head off the pillow. “You can take a little time from being mushified.”
“Don’t have to? Good Lord, woman, I may not be a professional athlete, but I have my pride.”
“Wait a second.” Callie leaned back far enough to look into eyes that seemed more light blue now than gray. “Did you just call me a professional athlete? Like, not a curler, or a sweeper, but an athlete?”
Max groaned, but couldn’t manage a scowl. “Fine. I’ll admit it. Your body is every bit as athletic as any I have
ever seen.”
“I won’t stop to think about how many bodies you can include in your sample size. I’m going to focus on the fact that I just got the great Max Laurens, queen of the curling contrarians, to admit she was wrong.”
“When I’m proven wrong, I always admit it,” Max said. Then with a full smile she added, “I’ve just never enjoyed being proven wrong quite this much.”
“Because you like my athlete’s body?”
Max gave a low growl and sprang up off the pillow, surprising Callie enough to send her flat onto her back. Not that she would’ve resisted even if she’d seen the move coming. The mix of mischief and raw attraction in Max’s eyes was enough to make her forget she’d made the offer of a longer rest time.
Max kissed her on the mouth, deep but not slow, as she ground her hips down until they fit fully between her legs. Callie groaned as even the little bit of pressure made several very sensitive nerve endings buzz.
She was so close already. Something about Max made her want to go faster, to take chances she wouldn’t normally take. She had a fleeting realization that being in bed with her now was a perfect example of that trend escalating, but then Max’s hips bucked forward a little harder, and all trains of thought went right off the rails. She gasped and threw back her head at the jolt of electricity surging through her, and Max took the opportunity to kiss along her exposed neck. Of course, this woman would go for the jugular. Callie had known it from the moment they’d met. What she hadn’t expected was how much she would enjoy it.
Max’s body felt like heaven and her lips like sin, as she pinned Callie to the bed and sucked a path down along her shoulders. The muscles didn’t seem to know if they should contract or just melt under her mouth, and thankfully she didn’t have to live in limbo long, as Max kept right on moving.
“You’re delicious,” Max mumbled as she ran her tongue around one taut nipple, before pulling it between her lips.
Callie was about to say something in response, but she forgot what as Max rolled her hips forward again. There were no words. That move, the perfect, rollicking circle that managed to undulate on exactly the right spot for just long enough to ratchet up her heart and breath—she felt certain it might be the end of her. She didn’t care.
Max played her way across Callie’s chest the same way she played at anything, full tilt and fully focused, her tongue drawing out sweet, hot, teasing patterns that might have been light or loopy if not for the fire they left in their wake. Thorough without lingering too long in any one spot, the only constant in Max’s trajectory was south.
Then her hips were gone, leaving a cool void for a few endless seconds before being replaced with the heat of her mouth. Callie almost levitated off the bed when Max’s lips closed around her. She pushed her fingers through Max’s dark hair, rumpling the perfection before locking onto the short strands and holding her closer. She was excruciatingly close, but the conflicting desires to hold on and let go nearly tore her in two. She’d never been one to lose control, not quickly, not completely, and yet as Max began to work her tongue in circles that threatened to turn Callie’s body into a puddle, she realized oblivion was more than an option. It was a real possibility. And then, suddenly, it became reality.
Light flashed red, then white, as the force of her orgasm rocked through her. Her fingers clenched in Max’s hair, and her toes curled while everything in between contracted, then released only to convulse again as wave after wave shook her. Max remained relentless in her dedication to riding them to completion, then relaxed, allowing Callie’s body to sink into the bed.
Then she started again.
Momentarily confused, her nerve endings buzzed as if someone had turned a dimmer switch low, only to spin it back up again.
Callie groaned. “I can’t.”
Her body disagreed, and so did Max as they worked in tandem to bring glowing embers roaring back to life. Callie couldn’t think, couldn’t process. She could barely move, but that didn’t keep her breath from growing shallow once more. Everything was a blur this time, everything but Max and her mouth. Callie didn’t know how either of them had the energy to keep going, and yet they did. Max sent her careening off the cliff once more, and Callie soared gleefully for several more seconds before crashing back to earth.
“Holy shit,” she finally managed, between gasps for air. “You’re going to kill me.”
Max sat up, wearing the satisfied grin of the self-assured. “But what a way to go.”
Calle laughed weakly and felt the muscles in her sides ache. “I think you wrecked me more than I did you. So much for me having the more athletic body.”
Max shook her head and lay down beside her. “No, you definitely do. You have all the impressive muscles. I just have the one.”
“Oh, but you use it so very well.” Callie sighed dreamily. “I’ve never done that before.”
“What? Fallen into bed with a suave sportswriter?”
“No. Well, actually, I’ve never done that, either. I’ve never fallen into bed with anyone so easily in my life. Oh geez, I didn’t really think this through, did I?”
“No need to start now,” Max mumbled, as she placed a kiss on Callie’s shoulder.
“Okay, right.” She blew out a deep breath and forced the rising panic back down into some darker recess. “I only meant I’d never had two orgasms in one pass.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Max said in a playful tone. “Your body’s like a Porsche of bodies. Who would be content with only one lap around the track?”
“Um, did you just compare me to a hunk of metal and motor oil?”
“Yes, but a very nice one.”
Callie laughed. “Again, with the comebacks.”
“You didn’t seem to mind the first time . . . or the second.”
Callie rolled onto her side, noticing the single tuft of dark hair falling across Max’s smooth forehead. For some reason it revved her engine to know she’d been the one to shake it out of place, and her blood began to pump a little faster again. “Well, then, in that case, why not push our luck?”
“Are you calling for another lap around the track, Skip?”
She grinned. “Did you just mix your sports metaphors?”
“NASCAR and curling are not—”
Callie cut her off with another searing kiss. She didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence to know she’d have to add it to the growing pile of things to deal with later. For now, she had the more pressing issue of Max’s body against hers.
Chapter Twelve
“Shit-shit-shit,” someone’s voice muttered through the haze. Max reached for the pillow, intending to pull it over her head. She’d been having such a good dream. And warm, she felt so warm, then suddenly not warm as a shaft of cold air rushed against her naked skin. She abandoned her blind hunt for the pillow and grasped fruitlessly for the comforter.
“Max,” someone whispered.
“No,” she grumbled.
“Yes. We overslept.”
“No.”
“Okay, maybe you didn’t, but I did.”
The words grew louder and more rushed. Still, they didn’t make sense, or at the very least they didn’t sound like her problem.
“It’s seven o’clock.” The voice punctuated the point by yanking open the curtains, and Max recoiled from the onslaught of light like a vampire who’d been pushed out into the midday sun.
She flopped onto her stomach and threw her arms around her face, trying to bury herself in a mattress that smelled like Callie.
The thought made every one of her aching muscles relax. Callie. “Callie.”
“Yes, so lovely of you to remember,” Callie said, her voice softening only slightly.
Max forced herself to ignore the stiffness in her muscles as she pushed up to sitting and squinted against the light. It hurt her brain to focus, but slowly the white spots in her vision gave way to shadows, then a blurry image of Callie zipping up her track-suit-style jacket. She suffered a momentar
y pang of regret that she hadn’t gotten to see her all golden and sleepy in the early morning light.
She shook her head, trying to wipe away the thought and the haze surrounding it. “What’s wrong?”
“I overslept. I have to go.”
“Stay. Catch a later flight.”
She shook her head. “I can’t just leave the team wondering where I am. Layla will . . . oh Lord, Layla. It’s a miracle she hasn’t already sent out a search party.”
“She knows we left together.”
Callie sighed. “As does half of the curling world, no doubt, but Layla’s the only one who knows I didn’t go back to our room.”
Max hadn’t stopped to think about that last night. She hadn’t stopped to think about anything, and from the ashen shade of Callie’s complexion, neither had she.
“I’m sorry,” Callie finally whispered.
She shook her head. She didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to even peek behind that door to who knew how many regrets. “Don’t apologize.”
“My team.” Callie offered the sum total of her explanation.
“Yeah.” Max gripped the sheet and pulled it to her chest. “I get it.”
Callie’s shoulders slumped.
“It’s okay.” Max tried to sound more convincing.
“It’s so much more than okay.” Callie closed the distance between them, kissing her with all the passion of the night before, but when she pulled away the sense of endless possibility fled with the contact.
“Go,” Max said firmly.
Callie opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but whatever it was would have to wait. The clock had struck midnight hours ago. Callie grabbed her heavy coat off the floor and bolted out the door.
Max sighed but refused to let herself fall back onto the bed. She’d been here before, or at least someplace similar, and she refused to linger in the void of silence surrounding her. She threw off the covers and turned on the TV, then flipped through the channels until she found SportsCenter. She turned up the volume as high as could be considered socially acceptable in a hotel, and padded to the bathroom. She avoided the mirror and turned on the shower hot enough to see steam before ducking under the spray.
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