That much, I did believe. “Have you heard from your brother?” It was a clumsy change of topic, but I didn’t really do emotion and certainly not in public.
His gray gaze narrowed but his lips curled up as if he knew what I was doing but didn’t want to call me out. I shot him a grateful smile. “No. Not one fucking call or text to tell me that he was free or where the fuck he is.”
I could see he was getting upset about it and I understood, but his anger wouldn’t make Tate reach out any sooner. “The good thing is that he’s out of prison, Max.”
He gave me a strange look, one I couldn’t decipher. “Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true.”
That was a first. I don’t think anyone has ever thought that about me, much less ever said it aloud. I smiled as a warmth spread throughout. Our plates were empty as were our glasses, which meant dinner was over. Max would go home, possibly alone, and I would definitely go back to my place and spend the night alone. Wishing I wasn’t. “You think so?”
“I do.”
“Thanks.” I slid my bank card into the leather booklet to pay the bill and grinned when his hands flexed with the desire to reach for it. “I appreciate you keeping your word about dinner.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he grumbled.
“I know,” I told him and licked my lips because my mouth ran dry at the sight of his smiling lips. “I never got a chance to just make out with a guy until we were breathless and hot and too out of our minds to make good decisions.”
His big hands tightened on the tablecloth, nostrils flared as fire swept over his skin. But the waitress returned so I could sign the bill and he had to wait. The moment she was gone, he sat forward. “Is that an invitation?”
“No, it’s a request. Can you fulfill that request, Max?”
He stood, practically knocking the chair over as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my chair and out of the restaurant. “Damn right I can.”
I grinned to myself. I was asking for trouble, but making memories was better than having none.
At least tonight it was.
***
I woke up slowly, struggling to stretch with the big beefy arm draped over my waist. Max. He was hot and hard, like my own personal furnace. Not that I needed it, especially after that hourlong make out session on the sofa. My body had burned up with, liquid heat coursed through my veins as I straddled him, grinding against his cock while he kissed me silly. I’m not sure that make out session would have had any place in my childhood, but it had certainly exceeded all of my meager expectations by at least two football fields.
No matter that I’d begged him to make love with me, to fuck me, he wouldn’t. He said I had to be sure, so he carried me up the stairs, laid me out on the bed and spent hours exploring my body with his mouth and his tongue. He brought me several glorious orgasms that left me weak and sated, and when I turned to return the favor, he’d simply tucked me against his body and fell asleep.
I appreciated it because Max had made me feel not only sexy and desirable, but precious and cherished. Like I mattered.
And this morning I wanted to show him how much it meant to me. I turned in his arms because escape wasn’t an option, his hand dropped to my hip as I took in the rugged cut of his jaw, long dark lashes fanned his cheekbones. He had a masculine beauty that was hard to describe, but I’d spent more hours than I would ever admit, sketching that face.
His chest rose and fell, dislodging the sheet as I adjusted to get a better look at him. His chest was so big, a deep grove ran between his pecs and down to his abs. My hand traversed the path, gaze riveted on his scarred, tan body. His cock twitched and began to come to life and I grinned. The moment was perfect.
Slowly I slid down his body, careful not to wake him so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. I hadn’t gotten a chance to really look at him last night or the night we made love. Had sex. He was gorgeous, his cock was long and thick. Now that I held it in my hand, stroking gently I pegged it as nine solid inches of hard—and getting harder—cock. I leaned forward with a tentative flick of my tongue across the slit at his cockhead and the bead of liquid there. It was salty but also intoxicating.
I lowered my mouth to the thick mushroom head and wrapped my lips around it, pulling it into my mouth and allowing the length and weight of it settle on my tongue. It didn’t have a taste, not really. It was slightly musky and smelled like Max, but the more I licked and sucked, the thicker his scent became and the wetter my thighs were.
“Ah, fuck,” he bit out and my eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and intense. “Jana,” he grunted, “you know how to welcome a man to a new day.” He grinned but I could see the clench of his jaw, the way his nostrils flared.
I sat up, unable to read his body language or facial expressions. “Am I doing it wrong?”
“Honey, if you did it any more right, I might be fucking that dirty little mouth of yours.”
I swallowed, his gaze and sensual tone went straight to my clit, making it swell. My channel flooded with desire and I grinned. “That sounds intriguing. Will it hurt?”
“No, but Jana, you don’t want that.”
I shrugged. “How will I know? I want to make you crazy.”
“Keep doing what you were doing,” he assured me and with a proud smile, I bent back down and took him in my mouth, taking more of him in my mouth until the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and he shouted my name. My pussy flooded with moisture at the sound and I did it again, sticking a hand between my legs to see if it worked. Sure enough, my pussy clenched around two fingers when I took him deep. When his hips flexed and those sexy totally masculine sounds came from his mouth.
I did it again, this time trying to lick his balls as I did and his hips flexed again, so deep I choked, but it turned me on too. I should have been worried, at least, but all I could focus on what how this made both of us feel. The more I pushed him, the more his hips moved and he began to fuck my mouth like he said. I moaned and flicked my tongue against the underside of his balls.