by Lori Ryan
Hungry? Was he ordering food? She thought for a moment then sucked in a breath. Oh, damn. No way was he talking about room service right now. He was hungry for her. Suddenly she was ravenous too.
She texted back.
DEVLIN: Order room service.
Devlin slipped off her shoes and stepped down into the sunken bedroom area, making her way to the bathroom. She stood in the open doorway, studying Max Sumner.
His hair was wet from the steam of the bath water, a little darker now with a few strands falling against his forehead. One leg hung over the side, his thigh muscles clenching and releasing as he rocked his foot back and forth to a rhythm only he could hear. God, he had amazing legs, thighs so strong he could squeeze her in two if he wanted. Images of those strong legs pressing her against the wall flashed through her mind, sending a current of need racing down her spine.
Her phone pinged again and she stifled a laugh since she’d just watched him send the text.
STUD MUFFIN: Room service doesn’t have what I want. Bring your sweet little ass into the bathroom, Dev. Now.
Max sat up, rivulets of water trickling down his muscled back and arms.
She licked her lips, fighting back the urge to suck up every drop of water streaming down his chiseled body. Suddenly she was lost in the erotic image of running her tongue along Max’s—
“There she is.” A deep voice growled.
Devlin startled out of her lurid thoughts and focused on his face. Such a gorgeous face. His strong jaw was covered with dark whiskers. He hadn’t shaved today. Good.
He tossed his phone to the side of the tub and moved to stand.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, as if she hadn’t seen him naked before.
He laughed as he stood, that deep throaty sound that sent shock waves of pleasure straight through her.
“The bath water is cold. It took you forever to get here.” He cupped himself. “My balls are shriveled up to raisins and my dick looks like a limp pickle.”
Limp pickle? She bit her cheek to keep from laughing.
Her gaze slid down Max’s body—broad shoulders, muscled chest, ripped abs.
Max released himself.
Her eyes drifted lower. He didn’t look shriveled in the least. He hadn’t been holding a pickle. She licked her lips again. Oh no, he held a huge cucumber, long and hard and mouth-wateringly—
“You are a little minx, aren’t you?” He chuckled.
She jerked from her thoughts, again, purposely turning her gaze away from Max’s naked body. “You, uh,” she half coughed, half choked, “need a towel.” Walking toward the wall, she slid a white bath towel from the shelf. “Here.” She held it out to Max, her head turned so she wasn’t tempted. Why was she acting like a shy virgin?
Max didn’t take the towel. He grasped her wrist instead and before she knew what happened, she was in the tub, sitting on top of him, straddling his lap, clothes and all.
“Max,” she shrieked, slapping at his chest.
He laughed and, again, that growl of amusement vibrated through her.
“My clothes are all wet.” She scolded him.
He stared at her chest.
She followed his gaze. Shit. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her soaking white shirt was now stuck to her breasts like a second skin. Her erect nipples poked through the linen like neon signs saying, take me, take me now.
She moved to cover her chest but Max grasped her wrists and held them to her side. She made the mistake of looking him in the eyes.
Max’s greenish-brown eyes were darker tonight and half-lidded, his expression one of lust.
Why was she shocked by his desire? This was why she’d come, to have one more night with him, right? Still, the intensity of their connection threw her off kilter.
Max lowered his head to her chest, his eyes locked on hers as his mouth devoured one nipple, sucking it through the material of her shirt.
“Oh, God,” she sighed, her head falling back as she pressed her chest into his mouth. She was shameless, unable to care if he thought she was too forward or pushy.
“Mmm,” he purred against her body as he sucked and laved and licked her nearly to orgasm.
No man had ever pushed her so close to the precipice of ecstasy so fast. She rocked her hips against him, wanting him, needing more.
“Max,” she moaned.
Max released her hands and slid his down to her waist, tracing her belly with his thumbs.
She shuddered on his lap.
His lips moved to her other breast, his suction the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.
He tugged her shirt off and threw it on the floor, staring at her breasts as he smiled wickedly.
Her heart flipped.
His fingers nimbly worked the button then the zipper of her shorts. She didn’t protest. This was what she wanted. She wanted Max inside her.
He tugged at the waist band.
Devlin lifted onto her knees and fell back against the tub. He tapped her ankle and she lifted her legs as he slid her shorts down with ease before tossing them onto the floor with a wet thud. His gaze found hers and she gave him what he wanted, spreading her legs for his perusal. Why play hard to get?
Max looked down through the water, his bold gaze lighting her on fire. Before she could take another breath, he dove under the water, his face heading straight for her.
She jolted and let out a shrill cry of surprise when his mouth caressed her most sensitive flesh. He was under the water, his face buried between her legs. What the hell?
Unable to move, she watched the top of Max’s head now completely submerged. His tongue stroked her lightly at first, then more firmly. She panted, pushing her hips toward him. Her head fell back and she wondered how long he could hold his breath. She hoped a long time because his wicked tongue was pushing her closer to release with every stroke.
Before she could topple over the edge, Max raised out of the water, shaking his head like a wet dog. Devlin laughed as she turned her head to avoid the spray.
“That was a delicious midnight snack,” he said, settling himself between her legs.
She laughed and wrapped her arms around the large man, thrilling at the feel of him. “It’s like three in the morning, not midnight.”
He rocked his hips against her. “I want you.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Now,” he growled.
Devlin smiled as her eyes dropped to his full lips. His mouth was designed for kissing. A flush of panic washed over her. She might never be able to tell this beautiful man no, and the thought of that frightened her to the core.
She slid her hands around his neck and pulled his head toward her. Lifting slightly from the tub, she stopped when her lips were a breath away from his. “Then take me,” she whispered.
He wasted no time, standing and pulling her with him. He lifted her from the tub as though she weighed nothing.
Her desire for him was desperate, almost primal. She needed him inside her more than she needed her next breath. Devlin couldn’t help but wonder if it would always be like this with Max.
Always? Where the hell had that come from? This was her last time with Max Sumner, she reminded herself.
The thought that she might never be with Max again unnerved her. God, what was wrong with her? She had to rein this shit in, make decisive lines with this man like she always did.
Max reached into his overnight bag that sat on the floor of the bathroom and pulled out a box of condoms.
“Seriously, a box?” she asked. Devlin wanted to take the words back. She knew damned well that Max probably always had condoms on him. He was a known player.
He froze for a split second before grinning at her with an expression she recognized. It was his mask. The one he slid on when dealing with fans, the public, anyone he wanted to fool into believing he was nothing more than a dumb jock.
She knew the truth, though. He wasn’t. And she hated that he was using that shield against her now. It
was a cool reminder that with Max Sumner there wouldn’t be anything deeper than this.
“You know me.” He chuckled low. “I’m like a boy scout, Devlin. Always prepared.”
She winced inside at the flippant remark. She hadn’t desired or been with another man since she and Max had slept together. But if he was still walking around with condoms in his bag, clearly he didn’t feel the same way. Devlin scolded herself for being such a needy idiot.
Max’s gaze wandered down to her breasts and a slow smile tilted the corners of his lips. It should be illegal how fast this man revved her heart. Goose bumps rippled across her skin and she moved to cover herself.
Max advanced quickly, like the trained athlete he was, scooping her up easily.
She gazed up at him as her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her head falling against his shoulder. It felt so right to be with him, and yet scared the shit out of her at the same time. Being cradled in Max’s arms was something she could get used to—a man carrying her, a man caring for her.
Max moved them toward the shower.
She lifted her head and looked at the shower door. “What are you doing? Aren’t we going to bed?”
“You’re dirty, Devlin Darby.”
Those words, that voice, his scent that was so uniquely Max—it was all too much, making certain body parts go soft and needy. What the hell was this man doing to her?
“That nightclub left you with the scent of other men on your body,” he said, voice low and oh-so-sexy. “I won’t take you to my bed unless you smell like me.”
Oh, my damn, that was good. Devlin laid her head back, giving Max no further resistance. Showering with Max Sumner sounded like one of the most decadent things life had to offer. She would indulge, if only for one more night.
Chapter Six
Max pulled the shower door open and stepped inside, daring a peek at the woman in his arms. Her head was still tucked against his shoulder, her dark hair spread against his chest. Instinctively, he pulled her closer. Her arms tightened around his neck and he couldn’t help but smile.
When she’d asked about the condoms, he’d slipped into self-protection mode. He hadn’t wanted to let on that he hadn’t had the urge to be with anyone but her since their last encounter.
Canyon Creek didn’t offer a huge selection of eligible women but even still, he hadn’t needed anyone else, hadn’t wanted anyone else but Devlin. In fact, he’d tried.
Max and a few of his teammates had gone on a weekend trip to the Bahamas. The luxury hotel suite had been filled with women more than willing to spread their legs for an NFL superstar. His former teammates had taken advantage. He hadn’t.
The thought of being with one of the women who’d draped themselves over him had left him cold. He’d gone to bed alone with nothing but memories of his night with Devlin to keep him company.
In fact, the bag he’d had the condoms in had never even left the trunk of their rental car during the entire trip to the Bahamas. But tonight was different. He’d brought the bag to the room specifically with Devlin in mind. He knew she’d be at the party and he’d hoped to christen the box of condoms with her.
Finally being alone with the real Devlin, not the memory, holding her in his arms, knowing he would have her any minute now, had him throbbing. It was the idea of needing her the way he did that scared the shit out of him. For a man who’d prided himself on one-night-stands and zero relationships, he now saw possibilities. And the chance—scratch that, the fact—she didn’t feel the same way ate at him.
He could see her casual attitude in her actions, the way she answered with sarcastic answers, never revealing too much of herself. Most days that would suit him just fine. Most days. But Devlin was different and he didn’t know why. She might be willing to let him into her bed, but she always maintained distance, keeping her walls up at all times with him. And for the first time, that worried him.
He shook off the pain in his gut as he realized she would never see him as more than a fun lay. That should be his attitude, too. Instead, he would focus on being with her, in the moment.
Max released her, letting her petite body slide against his chest. He glanced down and saw her head tilted back, her caramel-colored eyes staring up at him. What was she thinking? Too afraid to ask, he reached behind her and turned the knob for the shower. Cold water sputtered from the head.
Devlin shrieked and practically jumped into his arms. “Max! You did that on purpose.”
He laughed and she swatted his shoulder. He laughed harder.
Slowly, the water warmed and he again turned her toward the spray, resting her back against his chest.
Devlin tilted her head back and he watched with rapt fascination as the water splashed against her throat, sliding down between her breasts and lower.
His hands traced the pattern of the water on her skin and she shivered against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned around her, adjusting the water to warm her more. He grabbed a bottle of shower gel and squeezed a liberal amount into his palm before replacing it on the shelf. They both watched as a rich lather formed as he rubbed the gel between his hands.
Max pulled her close and watched over her shoulder as he ran the soap down her back. He stared at her ass, giving himself time to appreciate every square inch of the goddess standing before him. He spread his fingers over her, cupping each cheek.
“You have the sweetest ass, Devlin,” he said.
“Hmmm,” she said, “so do you.”
He laughed as he moved the soap against her skin, letting his hands travel up to her lower back. She had the sexiest curves he’d ever seen. He had to think of chemical equations and football stats so he didn’t embarrass himself. His hands moved higher, caressing her back, delighting in every inch of her soft, supple skin. He worked over her shoulders, squeezing and massaging, wanting to bring her pleasure in every way. He wanted her to melt for him.
“Oh, God, Max,” Devlin sighed. “That feels so good.”
He worked his hands down her sides and around to her stomach. Making slow circles, Max moved his hands over her slippery skin, working his way up until his fingers grazed the undersides of her breasts in a teasing glide.
“Yes, more please,” she moaned.
Devlin didn’t have to beg him for more, ever. His hands cupped her breasts, his palms molding to the supple form as his thumbs skimmed over her nipples.
She squirmed against him, releasing a raspy groan, her voice vibrating against his chest. She pressed her hips back against him and now it was Max’s turn to moan.
He grabbed the shower gel again and squirted more into his palm. “Lift your arms,” he said.
She willingly obeyed, her eyes still closed as she sagged against him, her body like his second skin.
Max lathered the gel then trailed his hands up her sides. Her body shivered against him and he smiled. He moved higher, washed under her arms, then moved out until his hands met hers, intertwining their fingers. “Put your hands behind my neck.”
Her head lolled to the side as if she was losing consciousness but she did as he asked.
Max couldn’t resist the exposed skin of her neck. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing along her throat as his hands worked down her abdomen, moving lower. His fingers worked through the damp creases where she was hot, slick, and ready for him.
Devlin released a little mewl and rocked her hips against his hands. She might be ready but he wanted more.
His hands fell away and she moaned in disappointment. Max stifled a laugh and knelt down on the shower floor. The hard marble hurt his knee like a motherfucker, but the desire pumping through his body overruled the pain.
He washed each of her legs with more care than he knew he was capable of. He’d never washed another person, never really wanted to until he’d smelled something other than Devlin’s unique scent when he’d nuzzled her hair at the club. She’d smelled of smoke and reeked of other men’s cologne, all the fucking assholes he’d
seen panting over her on the dance floor.
He didn’t know how to tell her he’d been dreaming of her scent for the last month, and he wouldn’t. He’d scrub her clean until he found it again.
“Raise your foot,” he said.
She placed one hand on his shoulder and lifted her foot.
He caressed her ankle, rubbing along her arches.
She wobbled and giggled.
“Ticklish?” he asked, glancing up at her, wanting to know everything there was to know about Devlin Darby.
She was nodding her head, her wet hair clinging to her body like a sexy swimsuit model. Her eyes were still closed and she looked just as lost in this erotic play as he was.
Max set down the first foot and tapped her other ankle. Without words, she lifted her foot. He treated it with the same care as the other before placing it back on the floor. He kissed her calf then the back of her knees.
“Ah, Max,” she sighed.
He moved to stand but his knee caught and he swore under his breath, steadying himself on the wall.
“Max,” Devlin turned and looked down at him. “Oh, my gosh, here, let me help you.” She bent to help him.
Fuck. There it was. That face he hated. He watched as Devlin’s expression changed from desire to despair, the look gutting him. He hated sympathy, from anyone, but especially from Devlin.
“I’m fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth, knowing he wasn’t. He never was. Sweat broke across his forehead. He needed the pills and she was suddenly all business, their magical moment lost as she tried to tend to him.
“No, you’re not fine,” she said, “you’re in pain.”
“I’ll be fine, just…give me a minute.”
“What is it? Is it your knee?” Her eyes scanned his body, her fingers tracing the path of her gaze along his skin.
“Yeah,” he said, straightening, “it…it catches sometimes.”
“Here.” She motioned toward the tile corner seat as she pushed against his chest. “Sit.”
“I said I’m fine, Devlin,” he ground out, his voice harder than he’d intended, but damn, he hated feeling weak. “I’m not an invalid.”