by Elise Faber
His mouth watered to taste.
“I like you, Angel,” he said, his voice like sandpaper.
“Hmm,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt so she was fully facing him, resting her elbow on the console and propping her jaw onto her palm. “I’m not so sure about that.”
She licked her lips.
And he lost his mind.
One tug had her over the console and onto his lap. The next had her straddling his hips.
“Oh,” she said and tilted her hips, brushing against his cock. “Oh. That’s—”
He kissed her, taking advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue inside. Fuck, but she tasted amazing. Fuck, but she felt amazing, soft to his hard, skin like silk, mouth hot and wet and—
She broke away.
Both of their chests were heaving, but fuck oxygen, fuck breathing. He needed Angie.
Naked and beneath him.
Or naked and on top of him.
His lips found hers again, and he groaned when Angie melted against him, breasts rubbing against his chest, pelvis shifting so she was seated more fully against him. She moved, and he groaned, stars flashing behind his eyes. Then she moved again and he came very close to embarrassing himself.
Yeah, not ideal.
He shored up every ounce of his control, lifted Angie from his lap, and deposited her back onto her seat.
“You’re dangerous,” he told her.
She clasped a hand to her throat. “You’re dangerous.”
He grinned.
She grinned.
Her words were soft, though her satisfaction was plain to see. “Thanks for the goodnight kiss.”
“I—”
A horn blared behind them before a car swerved around them, the driver flipping them both off in the process.
“That’s my cue,” she said and reached for the handle.
He grinned. “Perfect timing, as always.”
Angie laughed. “Thanks, Max. For everything.” She hopped out.
“Wait,” he said before she closed the door. “I’ll still see you tomorrow?”
A smirk. “Only if you promise to take me to see the Marvel movie.”
Marvel and a sexy woman? Yeah, not exactly a trial. But he played along anyway, tapping a finger to his chin as though pondering the statement. “Only if you promise me another goodnight kiss.”
She bit back a smile. “You gonna spring for popcorn and candy?”
“I’ll even throw in an ICEE if you want.”
“Mmm, sugar,” she teased. “Okay, I’m in.”
She closed the door, and he watched her walk inside, smiling when she turned back to wave at him before she disappeared into the lobby.
Banter, superheroes, and scorching hot kisses?
This woman was the one.
Twenty-One
Angie
She stumbled to her desk to find Kelsey perched on the edge, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and totally ready to pounce.
“Hi,” Angie said.
“Well, you look like the dead,” Kels replied. “So, obviously you didn’t get laid last night.”
Angie plunked down in her chair and glugged some coffee. Then she stretched her arms above her head, resisting the urge to slap herself across her cheeks. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
Kelsey sighed, gripped Angie’s upper arms, and shook. “You. Sexy time. Max. Many orgasms.”
That snapped Angie out of her fatigue . . . at least for a moment.
She wasn’t used to staying up so late on a work night and by the time she’d managed to calm herself down after the game, and Mandy, and then Max’s kisses, it had been close to three in the morning.
And she usually got into the office at seven.
She shook her head. “You’re crazy,” she muttered.
“About the multiple orgasms?” Kelsey asked, way too innocently in Angie’s opinion. “No way. He’s got that look.”
“What look?”
“The I’m-gonna-fuck-you-six-ways-to-Sunday look.”
Angie blinked, really liking the image that particular statement brought to the forefront of her mind. Max naked and on top of her. Or her naked and Max beneath her or—
“He’s so sexy.”
“You’ve talked to him?” Angie asked, wondering why she was feeling the teeniest bit jealous when she had absolutely no right to.
No right. No claim. No sex.
Boo, said her vagina.
Probably smart, said her brain. It’s too soon.
You want it anyway, said her vagina.
Of-fucking-course I do, said her brain.
So, go for it—
“Nope. But I’ve seen him at Devon’s, remember? And on TV and in magazines and”—Kelsey fanned herself—“he’s totally got the DILF thing going on. You need to sleep with him, find your happy place between the sheets.”
Max was seriously hot and given the way their kisses had nearly melted her bones last night, she had to agree with Kels. They wouldn’t have any problems with chemistry. But it wasn’t just sex, or the anticipation of it, or the fact that she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone else in her limited experience. He was sweet and funny and genuinely cared about the people he’d adopted into his family—whether that was by blood, like Brayden or by friendship, like Mandy.
“I’m really into him,” Angie said. “It’s going to be a serious problem.”
Kels frowned. “Why?”
“Because I barely know him.”
“So, get to know him.”
Angie sighed. “That’s just the thing. I’m normally so nervous to get to know people, all awkward and weird—case in point, drinks with your friends—”
“You know they’re already your friends, too, right? We’re like the mafia, once you’re in, there’s no getting out,” Kelsey teased. “But seriously, I like you and they liked hanging out with you, too, so now you’re stuck with us.”
Angie’s heart went warm and fuzzy. “I liked hanging out with them and you, too,” she said, a self-deprecating smile twisting her lips. “After I spent the first half making it really fucking weird.”
Kels snorted. “You weren’t that bad,” she said. “And I wasn’t going to let that giant brain of yours get in the way of fun.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Your brain is bigger than mine.”
“Is this how women do penis comparisons?” Kelsey tilted her head to the side, tapping a finger to her chin. “Your brain is bigger. No, yours is.”
“Maybe.” Angie chuckled. “Except for the fact that I don’t think any man would willingly tell another man his penis was smaller.”
Kelsey started giggling. “You’re right.”
“I’ve got ten inches, you’re twelve,” Angie said, deepening her voice and waving an arm in front of her pelvis. “You’re bigger. You win, said no man ever.”
“Twelve? Damn, girl.” Kelsey’s giggles continued, and this time Angie joined in.
“I have high standards,” Angie joked.
That was it. They both started cackling, bending at the waist and not even attempting to pretend they were focused on something work-related. The elevator dinged while they were still in that state, and Jordan walked by her desk, pausing for a second before shaking his head. “Nope, I don’t think I’m going to ask.”
“Probably for the best,” Kelsey told him.
He nodded and they watched him walk away, disappearing into Heather’s office.
Angie turned to Kels. “Poor guy,” she said.
“He’ll survive,” Kelsey replied then bumped her shoulder. “And that was a legit joke, girlfriend. A legit-non-awkward, dirty-minded joke. “When you forget about being in your head, you’re . . .”
“Normal?”
Kelsey huffed. “Who says there’s a normal? My point is that when you’re not overthinking everything the world gets to see the real you.” She bumped Angie’s shoulder again. “And the real you is pretty damned great.”
Angie felt her eyes burn. “Kelsey,” she exclaimed. “That’s not fair!”
“What? Emotions?”
“Yes. Emotions.” Angie sucked in a breath, released it slowly. “But seriously, thank you for pulling me out of my shell. I know I don’t know you super well, yet, but I feel like we’ve been friends for a lot longer.”
“You complete me.” Kelsey drew a heart in the air. “So Max?”
Angie’s heart fluttered. “He means something.”
“I know. I can see it in your eyes,” Kels told her. “They soften when you say his name.”
“Damn. There goes my poker face.”
Kelsey touched her arm. “I think you deserve someone who makes you feel that way, someone who makes you smile.”
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m also extremely annoying.”
Angie shrugged. “That’s a given.”
“Hey!” They both laughed again as Kelsey pushed up off the desk. “I guess we should get some actual work done, huh?”
“Probably.”
“I don’t want to,” Kels whined.
“I know.” Angie sighed. “And I didn’t even tell you what happened between the end of the game and our make-out session in front of my apartment building.”
“Oh, my God. He kissed you!”
“Dude. My tonsils are thoroughly checked.”
“Was it as amazing as I’ve imagined?”
“What do you think?”
Kelsey grinned. “That I’m really fucking jealous right now.”
“You should be.”
Angie laughed at the outraged noise that came out of Kels’ mouth. “Drinks tonight. Bobby’s. You’re going to tell me every last detail.”
“I have a date with Max tonight.”
“Ugh.” Kels shook a fist at the ceiling. “I’m so not good at delayed gratification. Fine. Saturday night. And I’m calling in the girls.”
Angie smiled. “I’d like that.”
“And you’re going on the group chat.”
“Heaven help me.”
Kelsey snorted, turned to leave.
“Wait,” Angie blurted. “What should I wear tonight?”
“Do you want it to just be a date?” She lifted her hands, as though weighing options. “Or do you want the fucking-you-six-ways-to-Sunday version?”
Angie bit her lip, heart pounding.
What did she want? To play it safe or to dive in headfirst and see where things laid? And that aside, she wasn’t even sure she could sleep with someone this soon. What if she froze up? Plus, she wasn’t the type of girl to—
No.
No more weighing all the pros and cons, worrying over every possible outcome.
This came down to something much simpler. This came down to how she felt in her gut, her heart.
Did she want Max?
Yes.
Did she trust him?
Her heart skipped a beat because . . . yes, she did.
And, for once in her life, she didn’t want to let fear hold her back. She wanted to jump in feet first with a man who was nice and sexy and liked her for herself—nerdy, awkward, and occasionally a pain in the butt.
She wanted to shirk the anxiety that had held her back for so long and just feel.
She wanted to live.
And so, she turned to Kelsey, lifted her chin, and said, “I want the six-ways-to-Sunday option.”
Kelsey’s smile widened. “I know just the dress.”
Twenty-Two
Max
Holy fucking breasts, was the first thought that went through Max’s head when he picked up Angie that evening.
She’d opened the door to her apartment, and his eyes had drifted from her gorgeous face straight down to her gorgeous—
Yes, he was a pig.
But fuck her breasts were amazing.
“I like your dress,” he said, forcing the pig-like tendencies aside and returning his gaze back to Angie’s. “You look beautiful.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s not too much for the movies?”
“Fuck, no,” he told her. “Especially because it means I get to try and sneak a look down your dress all night.”
Her lips curved. “You already did that.”
“And, believe me, I’m definitely not tired of that view.” He bent slowly, giving her time to tell him to back off. That him moving close was too much too soon. Or maybe too presumptuous, despite what had happened in his car last night. But Angie didn’t move. Instead, she rose on tiptoe, drifting toward him. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, mouth brushing his again as she spoke.
“Hi.” Nonsensical, but Max found that he didn’t have the strength to step back. Not when she tasted so sweet, and he could smell the soft floral scent of her. Not when her skin felt like silk beneath his fingertips.
“Hi,” she said, eyes sliding closed when their mouths brushed one more time. He cupped her cheek. “We’re idiots.”
“I don’t think I care.”
He kissed her again.
And not a soft, teasing brush of mouths. Instead, this time, Max made the contact count. He slipped both hands into Angie’s hair and tugged her close, slanting his lips across hers and kissing her deeply.
Her tongue slipped into his mouth, making him groan with pleasure, and those glorious breasts pressed against his chest.
Fuck the movie.
He needed Angie naked and under him.
Alarm bells blared to life in his mind, and he started to pull away, to wrestle himself back under control. But when he slipped his hands from her hair, Angie grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked his mouth back down to hers.
Heat slid down his spine, tightening every muscle in his body, along with his cock.
Max let his tongue tangle with hers, allowed himself a few more moments of pleasure before he tugged Angie’s hands free of his shirt and stepped back.
His chest heaved like he’d gotten stuck on the ice, desperate for a change.
But this wasn’t anything like the torture of having to push through exhaustion, trying to suck in oxygen while his legs and lungs were burning, frantically trying to make a play so he could streak to the bench and get a break.
Instead, this was the best sort of exertion.
Of course, his was cock was hard enough to hammer nails, but he’d never felt more alive or exhilarated. Every nerve ending pulsed with need and awareness and fuck, he wanted her.
But he also knew he didn’t want to fuck this up.
Which was all well and good until she released one hand from his shirt then reached down and grabbed his cock.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned.
“Max?” she asked, stroking him through the cotton of his slacks.
He would be lying if he’d said his response was intelligible. The best he could say is that some sort of strangled sound emerged from between his lips.
“I have an idea,” she said, releasing him to stroke her fingers up his chest.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”
She rose on tiptoe, stretching to whisper in his ear. “Yes.”
“What’s that?”
Her tongue flicked out. “Come inside, and maybe I’ll show you.” She turned and walked back into her apartment, hips swaying.
Max followed because while he might be a lot of things, an idiot wasn’t one of them. Angie stopped a few feet inside the door, turning to face him, and fuck but he’d missed the fact that her dress was short and her legs were on full display.
And on her feet were fuck-me pumps with . . . droids on them.
His lips curved. “R2 is where I want to be.”
“Uh”—her eyes flashed down to her shoes then back up—“what?”
He closed the door, striding over to her. Angie held her ground, chin rising, but the nearer he got, the more quickly her breaths came, and the pinker her cheeks got. “I don’t have a foot fetish,” he murmured. “I want to be here.�
� He brushed a finger over the dip in her dress, the lightest touch just between her breasts where the little blue and white droid sat.
“The . . . uh—” She sucked in a breath when he stroked the back of his knuckles there. “The whole dress is R2.”
“I know.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’m jealous of all of them.”
Her hands came up and held him close when he kissed his way up and behind her left ear. “You like my”—a moan when he nipped the sensitive spot there—“my shoes too?”
Those heels.
Four-inch blue stilettos.
Hot as hell.
Her whole outfit was pure Angie—sweet and sexy with a little nerd thrown in and . . . it turned Max on like nothing else ever could. He loved that she was intrinsically herself. That she loved what she loved and didn’t apologize for it.
He laced her fingers with his, allowed himself one more nuzzle of her neck before straightening. “I love them,” he said. “But we should go if we’re going to make our dinner reservations.”
“About that,” she began.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing her hand. “What did you want to show me?”
White teeth nibbled on pale pink lips.
Max’s cock went even harder.
“Nothing. Well, that’s not—it’s something.” She sighed, pushed back her hair with her free hand. “I’m so freaking awk—”
“Why did you ask me to come inside your apartment?”
Her cheeks flared red-hot. “Well, I mean, even though this is technically date one, I do feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over the last few weeks, what with us talking every night and the emails, then that day at the vet with Sparky.” She shrugged. “That’s not even including everything that happened last night . . .”
“Yeah?” he prompted when she trailed off.
“Ugh, I’m so bad at this.”
Max had been following the conversation with anticipation, though that was quickly transmuting into fear. Had he pushed too much? Fuck, he knew Angie’s backstory, he should have been more respectful, slowed everything way down.
“You’re not,” he told her. “You get to set the pace. You’re in charge.”
The blush dimmed. “Yeah?”
