signals to a brain that couldn’t think clearly. He pulled her closer. When her breasts met his chest, his dick made its presence known, rock hard and ready.
Years melted away and he was back in high school. Holding the girl he could never get enough of. A girl who had grown into one hell of a fantasy-inducing woman.
Somewhere in his scrambled thoughts, he registered her hands closing on him, curving around his belt to his back. Each one of her fingers pressed in on him with an urgency that matched his.
He’d thought about this moment a hundred times over the last fifteen years, four months and sixteen days, but a thousand times more about what came after it. When they were skin to skin, sin to sin.
He tipped his head and bent to kiss her as everything around them slowed and he succumbed to a tsunami of raw lust. He didn’t want to think anymore. Didn’t want to come up for air. They had a lot to make up for —
Right before his mouth met hers, he felt her fingers still, her body stiffen.
“What the hell is that?” She dropped her hands.
He swam through the tidal wave that had flooded his senses, clawing his way to the surface. “I — what — ?”
“You have a gun.” She stepped away from him, face tight, and fired off questions that made his head spin. “Why, Max? Why a gun? Normal people don’t carry guns.” Her voice climbed several octaves. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Hold on.” Max put a hand to his forehead, trying to block out the sound of his dick screaming for mercy. “What’s the big deal?” He hadn’t intended for her to find out this way.
“The big deal,” she said, emphasizing each word, “is that you show up here after letting yourself into a building that’s supposed to be secure, with muffins in your hand and a gun hidden under your shirt. The surprise visit and the muffins I can live with, but I want to know about the gun.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I think it means you’re in trouble.”
Nothing about this woman made sense. Most strippers would correctly think “cop” and go into survival mode. “I’m not. Trust me.” Can we get back to where we were?
“Trust. You.” She dragged the two words out until they took on several syllables and left them to swirl in the air between them.
His temper rose. “I came back for you as soon as I could last night.”
“You cheated on me with Rhonda the Skank.”
Max exhaled. Somehow he’d managed to forget Tensley’s nickname for Rhonda. “That’s a little harsh.”
“So you weren’t cheating on me with her.”
“No. I meant — ” He’d been kidding himself to think there weren’t buried explosives in this reunion. “I told you. Things weren’t supposed to go down the way they did.”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to find out about you and Rhonda.”
“You were supposed to find out about me and Rhonda.” Hold on. That didn’t come out right. “There wasn’t anything going on.” He raked his hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. No help there. He didn’t like being on this side of an interrogation. “You were just supposed to think there was.”
This time, she shook her head. “I know what I saw.” All of a sudden, though, she didn’t sound so sure.
“Think about it, Tensley.” Max was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater. It still cut to the bone that she’d been so willing to believe he was. Even though, at the time, he’d hoped she would.
“You think I haven’t thought about it?” She moved into the living room, pacing across the wooden floor in her bare feet. “Tupperware didn’t work, file folders, a damn metal safe. Nothing.”
What the hell was she talking about?
She turned to pace in the other direction. “Other men didn’t help. Gorgeous men. One of them, Bryan-with-a-y-not-an-i — ”
At what point had he lost control of this conversation?
“ — could talk dirty in French. Which is a whole lot sexier than it is in
Years melted away and he was back in high school. Holding the girl he could never get enough of. A girl who had grown into one hell of a fantasy-inducing woman.
Somewhere in his scrambled thoughts, he registered her hands closing on him, curving around his belt to his back. Each one of her fingers pressed in on him with an urgency that matched his.
He’d thought about this moment a hundred times over the last fifteen years, four months and sixteen days, but a thousand times more about what came after it. When they were skin to skin, sin to sin.
He tipped his head and bent to kiss her as everything around them slowed and he succumbed to a tsunami of raw lust. He didn’t want to think anymore. Didn’t want to come up for air. They had a lot to make up for —
Right before his mouth met hers, he felt her fingers still, her body stiffen.
“What the hell is that?” She dropped her hands.
He swam through the tidal wave that had flooded his senses, clawing his way to the surface. “I — what — ?”
“You have a gun.” She stepped away from him, face tight, and fired off questions that made his head spin. “Why, Max? Why a gun? Normal people don’t carry guns.” Her voice climbed several octaves. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Hold on.” Max put a hand to his forehead, trying to block out the sound of his dick screaming for mercy. “What’s the big deal?” He hadn’t intended for her to find out this way.
“The big deal,” she said, emphasizing each word, “is that you show up here after letting yourself into a building that’s supposed to be secure, with muffins in your hand and a gun hidden under your shirt. The surprise visit and the muffins I can live with, but I want to know about the gun.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I think it means you’re in trouble.”
Nothing about this woman made sense. Most strippers would correctly think “cop” and go into survival mode. “I’m not. Trust me.” Can we get back to where we were?
“Trust. You.” She dragged the two words out until they took on several syllables and left them to swirl in the air between them.
His temper rose. “I came back for you as soon as I could last night.”
“You cheated on me with Rhonda the Skank.”
Max exhaled. Somehow he’d managed to forget Tensley’s nickname for Rhonda. “That’s a little harsh.”
“So you weren’t cheating on me with her.”
“No. I meant — ” He’d been kidding himself to think there weren’t buried explosives in this reunion. “I told you. Things weren’t supposed to go down the way they did.”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to find out about you and Rhonda.”
“You were supposed to find out about me and Rhonda.” Hold on. That didn’t come out right. “There wasn’t anything going on.” He raked his hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. No help there. He didn’t like being on this side of an interrogation. “You were just supposed to think there was.”
This time, she shook her head. “I know what I saw.” All of a sudden, though, she didn’t sound so sure.
“Think about it, Tensley.” Max was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater. It still cut to the bone that she’d been so willing to believe he was. Even though, at the time, he’d hoped she would.
“You think I haven’t thought about it?” She moved into the living room, pacing across the wooden floor in her bare feet. “Tupperware didn’t work, file folders, a damn metal safe. Nothing.”
What the hell was she talking about?
She turned to pace in the other direction. “Other men didn’t help. Gorgeous men. One of them, Bryan-with-a-y-not-an-i — ”
At what point had he lost control of this conversation?
“ — could talk dirty in French. Which is a whole lot sexier than it is in
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