“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says solemnly. “This is reverse psychology.”
I wave my hand in a dismissing gesture. “Clearly you don’t know women.”
Max leans in closer, cupping my jaw. “I know you. At least, I knew Jonesie, the girl, now I want to know the woman. I want to know all there is to know about you.” Putting his lips to my ear, he whispers, “I can be very persuasive.”
“What does that persuasion include?”
“Spoiling you, lots of kissing, and hot sex.”
“If I pretend to disagree with you all day will you do that stuff?”
“You little vixen.”
Hooking an arm around my waist, Max pulls me to him until our bodies touch completely. We’re naked under the cover, and feeling his warm skin against mine is about the best damn way to wake up.
“I wasn’t going to say that last night was a mistake. You’re right. We do have a good thing, and I want to be with you. Just don’t hurt me, okay?” I ask in a small voice.
“I won’t.”
“And if at any moment you think that we’re not working out, just say it. I’ll do the same. Promise to do it when you feel something is off. Don’t wait until we can’t work on it anymore. I don’t want to collect wedding dresses.” My throat nearly clogs at the mere thought of that scenario playing out, but I need to say it out loud. If there is one thing I can trust Max to do, it’s to be up-front with me. I rarely show my vulnerable side to anyone, even Evelyn and Abby, but I can’t seem to help myself with Max.
“You already dreaming about marrying me, Jonesie?” His voice is light, but my stomach drops.
“Crap. I didn’t mean that…. I just—”
“Shh, calm down, beautiful. I know what you meant. I was just trying to lighten things up. I’d never do that. I promise.” He caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers, and peppers the side of my jaw with kisses.
“Good.” A knot unfurls in my stomach, and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. “Now, I still want you to make good on your threats. They sounded like so much fun.”
“You’re a demanding little thing.”
“I might be a bit high maintenance,” I admit. “I require a lot of laughter and orgasms.”
“Happy to comply with both. But I have a requirement first.”
“We’re negotiating?” I ask in disbelief.
He purses his lips, as if he’s weighing his options. “No, we’re just exchanging information.” He adopts a serious, businesslike demeanor, and I have a hard time reining in my laughter. “In order to comply with your requests, I need to know all of the facts.”
“All right, fire away.”
“Do you admit that last night was the best sex you’ve had?”
“It might make the top ten,” I tease.
“There was definitely something that sounded an awful lot like ‘I’ve never felt like this before’ in there.”
“Pfft,” I say, waving my hand. “I could have been referring to many other things.”
“Such as what?” he challenges.
“Such as the lovely Egyptian cotton I’m lying on.” I wiggle my butt against the bed, and pat the smooth fabric of the sheet to make my point.
Max levers himself over me, propping the weight of his upper body on his forearms. “If you remember the cotton and not what I was doing to you, I have some serious improvements to do.”
“I won’t say no to that.” I lace my fingers at the back of his neck, my forearms resting on the expanse of his broad, strong shoulders. “What improvements are you thinking about?”
“Making you come until you can’t even remember your name,” he whispers in my ear. Desire shoots right through me, singeing me.