“Thank you, but I’ve got this.” I watch him walk down the hallway, then add, “And take Maddie with you,” before I take a step away from the door and finally let Max into the house. “What are you doing here, Max? It’s the middle of the night.”
“You walk around without pants on in front of your roommate often?” His eyes focus on where the hem of my shirt hits the top of my thighs as he takes a step toward me.
I push back against his chest with my hand, halting him. “You don’t get to ask me questions like that in the middle of the night. Not when I was woken up by two men arguing, one of whom is you. Sorry if I didn’t stop to think about pants. I wanted to find out what the hell was going on.”
His body deflates, and he cups my face in his big hands. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
His anger may have subsided, but mine hasn’t, so I choose not to tell him it’s become my favorite shirt to sleep in.
But I stop thinking about it completely when his lips crash down over mine. Teeth clashing, tongues tangling. Both of us fighting for control that slips further away by the moment. He tastes like cigars and liquor, and it’s a heady combination. Fanning the flames of the fire growing between us until they’re licking up my legs.
I wrap my arms desperately around his neck, my anger momentarily forgotten.
Clinging to him until his hands slide down over my ass and lift me in the air.
I swear it’s like this every single time I’m with him.
My legs wrap around him, and my pussy aches with need as I’m slammed back against the door. His erection grows thick against the seam of my silk panties, and I grind down against it, desperate for relief.
Begging to get closer.
“Jesus, Daphne... I want you so fucking bad.”
His words are like a bucket of ice water thrown over us. Dousing every last flame.
I force my head away from his and push back at his chest. “Max, stop.”
He pulls his face away, and his deep-blue eyes dart between mine. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His words are rushed, his voice hoarse and raspy. He sounds like a man on the verge of losing his tightly held control.
I don’t think that happens to Max often.
Still pinned against the wall, I stare into his eyes. “Why are you here? What’s changed?”
“Changed?” He grips my wrist and brings it to his lips. “What are you talking about?”
“Last week, you didn’t want to touch me in another man’s house. But tonight, you show up in the middle of the night, ready to rip my panties off in the hall. What’s gotten into you?” I drop my legs down, but Max doesn’t release his hold of me.
I wish I didn’t like it, didn’t crave his touch.
Wasn’t desperate to take him to my room and not let him leave until we both come so many times, we lose count. But my pride refuses to let that happen.
He studies my face, and I force myself to stay strong under his penetrating gaze.
“Come to my sister’s wedding with me tomorrow. I should have asked you before tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
I shove him back with more force this time and wiggle for him to put me down until my feet are flat on the ground. “No.” There’s no hiding my barely controlled anger kicking back up to the surface.
“What?” He squints his eyes as if he’s confused by my answer.
I push him back with both hands. “You heard me. You didn’t want me at your sister’s wedding, so you didn’t invite me. I can respect that. You aren’t my boyfriend, Max. You made the rules, and we both agreed to them. You don’t owe me an invitation to a family function, let alone something as personal as your sister’s wedding. I’d have been fine with that.”
I step to the side and grasp the doorknob, needing to get him out of here before the anger coursing through me turns into hurt. Anger is good. I can hide behind a mask of anger. “But you don’t get to show up here in the middle of the night, practically coming to blows with my friend whose house I’m living in, and invite me now because you suddenly feel bad and decided, ‘What the hell.’ I’m not a charity case. I’m not a second choice, and I’m not your girlfriend. I think you need to leave.”
“Of course, you’re not a fucking charity case, Daphne. I want you there.” He tips my chin up to force my eyes to his. “What if I said I want you to be so much more than my girlfriend?”
“I’d say you need to be sure that’s what you want, then try telling me when I can’t taste the whiskey on your breath because I deserve better than that. You are an incredibly easy man to fall for, Max Kingston. But my heart can’t afford to be broken again.” I turn around and open the front door. “Talk to me when you figure it out. Until then, I’ll see you in the office Monday morning.”