by J. H. Croix
Then, she stood before me, completely naked. I let my greedy gaze coast over her. Her skin was flushed, her full breasts round and plump. Her nipples were taut, practically begging for me to suck them. I loved the soft curve of her belly and the way her hips flared out.
She was sturdy and strong, the flex of her muscles evident as she stepped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “This doesn’t seem quite fair, Max. You have too many clothes on. Lose them.”
Funny, but when she told me what to do, I just did it. I usually liked to direct the action, yet Harlow always kept me barely at the edge of my control. With an assist from her, my clothes ended up scattered about the room with hers, and then she was pushing me, startling me when she nudged me back onto the couch.
Resting a hand on her hip, her rich brown gaze skimmed over me. My cock ached. In a flash, she knelt before me, sliding a palm up my thigh to cup my cock in her fist. She dipped her head, swirling her tongue around the thick head, swiping up the drop of pre-cum rolling out.
My head fell back against the couch, on the heels of a ragged groan, just as her hot, wet mouth took me inside. I needed to see. With effort, I lifted my head, threading a hand into her hair as she proceeded to drive me to the brink of madness. Teasing me with her lips and her tongue, and taking me into her mouth again and again, the light suction nearly pushed me over the edge.
This woman. She was like a straight line to everything I’d ever wanted. So reserved and so guarded that when she let go, it was like getting caught in a fire. I meant to say something, to pull her up and bury myself deep inside of her, but I was too lost in the feel of her mouth sucking me in as she cupped me lightly in her wet grip.
I heard myself murmuring her name, my hand tangling in her hair as I held on. Heat twisted at the base of my spine before she sucked me into her mouth once more, and my release poured into her. When she drew back slowly with a last swipe of her tongue around the head of my cock, I looked down to see her lips plump and swollen. Even though I had just come in her mouth, it had barely taken the edge off my need.
I loosened my hand in her hair, trailing my fingertips down along her jaw. As I traced her lips, she caught my fingertip in her teeth lightly, a sly grin stretching across her face.
“That’s what you get for teasing me tonight.”
“Oh, that’s what I get? I’ll tease you every day, sweetheart. Come here,” I murmured, shifting slightly and lifting her toward me.
I think she presumed I wanted her to straddle me. I did, if only for the logistics of rolling over. I wanted to savor her, to drive her to the edge of madness, to make her beg.
As soon as her knees flanked my thighs, I shifted, rolling us quickly and stretching out over her. Her gasp of surprise was welcome.
“This is what you get for teasing me.”
I caught her lips in a kiss, burying my tongue in her mouth, needing to claim her. Tearing my lips free, I dragged my tongue down along the soft skin of her neck. I needed to taste her tight little nipples. Shifting my weight, I mapped my way down her body. Teasing my thumb across one nipple, I swirled my tongue around the other, nipping it lightly and sucking it in, savoring when she arched into me.
Her hand gripped my hair as I proceeded to do the same to the other side. Leaning back, I looked down at her. She was propped partly against the cushions, her dark hair a wild tangle. The fire from the woodstove in the corner flickered over her skin, casting her in both light and shadow.
With her eyes dark, her lips swollen, and her skin flushed, she was so fucking gorgeous, I almost came again just looking at her. I knew she was wet. I could feel the slick heat of her rubbing against my cock where my hips rested in the cradle of hers.
“Max,” she muttered. “Please…”
“Oh no, you’ll have to wait.”
Leaning forward, I swirled my tongue around a nipple again and began making my way down over her soft belly. I had one hand gripped on her hip and could feel her skin pebbling under my touch. Shifting my shoulders down between her knees, I leaned back to look. Her pussy was wet, pink, and glistening. I trailed a finger through her folds, savoring as her hips flexed into me automatically.
“You’re so fucking wet. Tell me, have you been wet all night? Because I’ve been hard just about all day.”
I wasn’t prone to telling women how much they got to me. But then, no woman other than Harlow had ever kept me hard all day. It didn’t even matter that I’d just exploded in her mouth; I was already hard again, hanging on to a thin, frayed thread of control.
Sinking a finger inside her, I savored the feel of her slick channel clenching around me. Adding another, I leaned forward because I had to taste her. Fucking her slowly with my fingers, I circled my tongue over her clit, through her folds, and proceeded to drive her as mad as she had just driven me.
Her release came quickly, her hands tugging roughly on my hair as her hips bucked into me. When I felt her channel start to throb and pulse around my fingers, I sucked her clit into my mouth, feeling her shudder as she cried out my name.
I’d never given a damn if a woman called my name. When it came to Harlow, I fucking loved it. I didn’t want this to end. I wanted her to roll from one climax into the next. Drawing back swiftly, I rose above her, positioning my cock at her entrance and sinking inside in one swift surge.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Harlow
Still trembling from my last climax with pleasure spinning through me, I was boneless, simply melted, from Max’s attentions. Then, he sheathed himself inside me, every long, thick inch of him filling me to the hilt.
I barely caught my breath before he began to draw back and sink inside again. The weight of him above me felt so good—hard, strong, and encompassing. With his elbows caging my shoulders, he brushed my tangled, damp hair away from my face.
“Harlow, look at me,” he murmured, his sensual command one I couldn’t deny.
Dragging my eyes open, I collided with his gaze. In the flickering light from the fire, his blue eyes were dark, the look contained there so intense, it took my breath away. He stroked into me again as I curled my legs around his hips. He fucked me so thoroughly and so deeply, I was lost in a tornado of sensation.
My next climax began to build from the echoes of the last, the pleasure spinning inside, tighter and hotter with every roll of his hips into mine. Again and again, he filled me, the stretch exquisite. The entire time, our gazes were locked together, the sense of intimacy so intense I could hardly bear it.
The pressure spun loose, sending pleasure scattering through me like hot sparks. Max followed me over the edge, my name a rough shout. He fell against me, instantly rolling to his side, so that his weight wasn’t heavy on me. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t care, that I loved the feel of him against me, but I couldn’t even form words.
We lay still, our skin damp and our breath ragged in the quiet room. After a beat, I felt Max tense slightly. Opening my eyes, I started to ask what was wrong, but he answered before I got a word out.
“I forgot a condom,” he said flatly, his gaze somber and concerned.
“It’s okay, I have an IUD,” I explained hastily.
It wasn’t that I needed one. I didn’t exactly have an active sex life. But after my last unexpected pregnancy after missing a single pill while I was out in the field, I’d decided I needed something that wouldn’t be affected by my unpredictable schedule.
His eyes searched my face, and I could feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. Brushing my hair away from my face, his mouth twisted ruefully. “Well, that’s good, but I don’t usually forget things like that. If you’re concerned, I’m clean. This is the first time I’ve had sex without a condom since I was a teenager. At least then, I had the excuse of being stupid,” he said with a low chuckle.
“I’m clean too. Not that you’re asking, but except for you, I haven’t had sex in two years. I suppose this means we don’t need to worry about condoms anymore.”
I
wasn’t sure how to interpret his expression, and then he laughed again. “You make me fucking crazy, Harlow.”
He kissed me swiftly and then rolled us over, somehow managing to lift me into his arms as he stood from the couch. Without even asking, he carried me up the stairs and straight into the shower.
Wrapped in Max’s strong embrace, I experienced a flicker of anxiety as I was drifting off. I was too comfortable, this felt too good. It couldn’t last.
Max’s words—telling me this was something that couldn’t be ignored, that this was powerful—while true, were vague. I was so prone to looking into meanings that weren’t there, because what we were really speaking about was the chemistry between us. That was just sex.
I needed to remember that. I needed to remind my brain and my oh-so-wishful heart that I couldn’t expect it to be anything more. That moment of anxiety was brief, if only for the fact that I was simply too content. I felt held and protected in Max’s arms.
He was like my own personal heater. I had a tendency to get cold during the night, but I was warm and toasty with his hot, muscled body curled around me. I woke in the darkness at some point, deep in the night, with his hands mapping their way over my body—one sliding over the curve of my belly, the other cupping my breast, his thumb lazily stroking across my puckered nipple.
I didn’t even know if he was actually awake. His arousal was pressed against my bottom, and I reflexively arched back into it. If he hadn’t been awake, he was in that moment.
I wanted to say we made love. But I didn’t want to pin that wishful of a word on what happened. Not just yet.
Be that as it may, it was a slow, sleepy, sensual fucking, with him sinking in from behind me, spooning me while he rocked into me. Pleasure fractured me from the inside out, and I fell asleep only moments after crying out his name.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harlow
Waking the following morning, early, as I usually did, I reluctantly slipped out of bed. I didn’t want to leave Max’s side, but it felt too intimate. I felt as if I were almost being hypnotized, stealthily tumbling headlong into lust and love with him. And most certainly misunderstanding what he might feel for me in the process.
I managed to tiptoe out of the room without waking him. After a quick shower, I tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a soft fleece top and headed downstairs. I started coffee and walked to the windows to look outside into the wintry landscape.
It was still snowing, although it had slowed considerably. It looked as if we’d gotten a good two feet of snowfall since we’d come home last night. Even though I was fairly practical when it came to functioning in the snow, I would’ve hazarded a guess that even long-time Alaskans were slowed down a bit this morning.
The snow had lightened just enough for me to see the sun hinting at its rise above the mountains in the distance, but it would be another hour or so before light began to claim the darkness. The sky was barely stained pink, with a hint of lavender blending into the fading night sky. I’d grown to love winter sunrises and sunsets. The time felt almost ethereal.
Glancing at the clock mounted in the center of the kitchen wall, I saw it was only seven a.m. and wondered when Max would get up. I knew Ivy was an early riser, and I needed some friend advice. I decided to chance it and call her. If Max woke while we were on the phone, I would have time to end the call.
Once the coffee was ready, I filled a mug, added a dash of cream, and called my best friend. With my feet hooked around the legs of the stool by the counter island, I listened to the phone ring and hoped she would answer.
“Hey!” Ivy said. “What are you calling so early for? Not that I mind. I’m up and so is Owen. I’m in the kitchen working. He’s downstairs because he wanted the big screens for some design work. Either you’re calling because it’s convenient, or you need to talk.”
“Good morning. What makes you say that?”
Ivy laughed softly. “Because when you’re stressed about something, you call in the morning. What’s up?”
Ivy knew me that well. I was relieved she couldn’t see me blushing. I didn’t mind that she could essentially read me like a book, but it was almost an anticipatory blush for what I was about to tell her.
“Okay, fine. You might be right. I’m calling about Max.”
“What about Max? Don’t let me forget, my reconnaissance snooping came up with a few details. You first, though.”
I was dying to insist she tell me what she knew, but it wasn’t going to change the fact that I desperately needed her advice. I jumped in. “I ran into Max in Anchorage after you told him I happened to be in town.”
Ivy laughed. “How is that a problem?”
“It’s not, but, well, we kind of had another night.”
“Kind of?”
“The weather was bad, and we were at the same hotel.”
“Okay, so you had sex,” Ivy said flatly. “And?”
“Well, now he’s here, and it’s been two nights, and he’s saying things that I want to hear, and it’s a really bad idea. Please remind me that I need to not be stupid again.” My words tumbled out in a mostly run-on sentence, with anxiety blooming in my chest. I took a gulp of coffee and willed my nerves to settle.
Ivy’s sigh filtered through the phone. “Oh sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you not to be stupid again. You weren’t stupid before, and I hate when you talk about yourself like that. I think you should give Max a shot.”
This time, it was my turn to sigh. “Um, okay. You’re all about this thing with Max. Everything I know about him tells me it’s not smart. You might as well cut to the chase with whatever you learned.”
“I point-blank asked Owen how come Max is never serious with anyone. It’s nothing major. But he had a college sweetheart, and things were pretty serious, and then she dumped him. Owen said Max hardly ever talked about it, except one time when he got kind of drunk. Apparently, he bitched about how it turned out the woman only wanted him if he was going to get a high price job at a firm right out of MIT. I guess things kind of went sideways after he took her home to visit his family. Like I said, nothing horrible, but enough to make him cynical, I suppose,” Ivy explained.
A shaft of anger pierced me. I was unaccountably protective of Max and angry with this woman who I didn’t even know. What an idiot. Whatever I thought about Max, he was a decent man. Somehow, thinking about him being younger and probably more idealistic—like we all are when we’re younger—and having someone be that opportunistic about him, infuriated me.
“Oh, and then she tried to get back together with him after his company started doing really well,” Ivy added, her tone derisive.
While she and Owen were quite wealthy, money wasn’t something Ivy cared much about. It was almost an afterthought for Owen. I didn’t doubt that no matter what happened for them, they would be together for better or worse, richer or poor, and all that jazz. My heart wanted that kind of love, but I just didn’t know if it was in the cards for me.
“Well, that sucks,” I finally said.
“It does. That’s why I think Max just needs the right woman. Owen says Max has never asked him questions about any woman other than you. He thinks the only reason he asked was because we’re friends. Do me a favor and give him a chance. I suppose I’m asking you to give yourself a chance,” she said.
If only it were that simple.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Max
The muted sound of Harlow’s voice woke me, and I smiled. The sheets were cool, leading me to believe she had gotten up earlier. Well, obviously she had. My last memory was of being buried inside of her in the blurry hours of the night. I couldn’t say if I had started it, or she had, or if we’d teased each other in our sleep.
Kicking the sheets back, I swung my feet to the floor and stood. Glancing around, my eyes landed on my bag by the dresser. First things first, I needed a shower. As I stepped out of her bedroom, I heard her voice drifting up over the loft railing.
“
You know what happened last time, Ivy. I was devastated. I can’t put myself through that again.”
I paused, almost frozen in the doorway. Never in my life had I actually wanted to eavesdrop, but I found myself standing still and holding my breath, wondering who and what she was talking about and what she might say next. There was a pause, and I gathered Ivy was replying.
“I know, but I have a knack for finding men that aren’t emotionally available,” Harlow replied to whatever Ivy had said on the other end. “I’m finally doing better. Except for Max, I haven’t made any stupid decisions in two years.”
It chafed hearing that she considered me a stupid decision. I didn’t like it. At all. Nor did I like hearing the pain in her voice when she spoke of whatever had happened before. I knew I couldn’t hide up here forever, so I swung the door, ensuring it bumped lightly on the wall and alerted her to my presence.
Striding to the shower, all I could think was that I was going to prove to Harlow that we weren’t a stupid decision. Any doubts that I previously had, any hesitations about diving into this with her, had gone up in smoke. Though the chemistry between us was enough to burn a damn house down, I knew it wasn’t just that. I couldn’t imagine not having Harlow in my life. That wasn’t an option.
I suppose what set it off was the fact that I wasn’t worried about any of the logistics. She lived in Alaska, I lived in San Francisco, and our lives were far apart. Yet, somehow our respective best friends were together. I didn’t know how it would play out, but either I would come here, or she would come there. I didn’t even care about the end result. All I cared about was Harlow.
After a quick shower and pulling on jeans and a shirt, I headed downstairs. Harlow had finished her call with Ivy and was making pancakes. She must not have woken much earlier than me because her hair was still drying. With her dark locks tumbling around her shoulders and her pink cheeks, I wanted to bend her over the counter and take her right then and there. But I shackled my need. That wasn’t the way to start today. I sensed she had an easy out if I let her believe this was all about sex.