French Kissed

by Chanel Cleeton

  It wasn’t that Max didn’t measure up. He far surpassed Costa. They were just so different, and at this point, with my track record, I could see how different worried my friends.

  “I’m good. I’m happy. I can’t keep my hands off him. Part of me wants to have sex with him now, part of me is glad we’re taking things slow.” Part of me was terrified to have sex. Period. I sucked in air. “I haven’t been with anyone besides Costa, and sex after I lost the baby . . .” My chest hurt. “It wasn’t so great. I think I need some time to get my head on straight.”

  Maggie and Mya reached out, wrapping me in a hug.

  “I’m fine,” I protested. “I’m just telling you guys that I know what I’m doing, and as much as I love you, I have this.”

  They both nodded, and I pretended that there wasn’t a suspicious moisture welling up in Maggie’s eyes.

  I grinned and squeezed her hand. “So . . . I need a bra.”

  ###

  It was everything I’d imagined and more.

  We’d spent an hour at Agent Provocateur. They’d been having a sale, so Maggie bought lingerie for her anniversary, and I bought what we were all referring to as “the bra.”

  It was one of those things where the second I saw it, I knew. I could picture Max’s expression when he saw me in it, could imagine him taking it off me.

  I had to have it.

  It was a pale color somewhere between pink and ivory, and the cup of it was so sheer it was basically see-through, my nipples clearly visible behind the fabric. It was edged in scalloped satin and lace, and the cup had pale little flowers and vines embroidered on the sheer netting.

  It was a pretty bra, a wisp of a dream. And it was sexy as hell. Maggie and Mya had tried to steer me toward red and black, flashier bras I might have picked a year ago, but there was something about this one. It was so Max; it wasn’t obviously sexy on the hanger, but when you put it on . . . Whoa.

  It was perfect.

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my heart feeling like it was beating out of my chest. I’d paired the bra with the matching thong and thrown on my favorite pair of white jeans. In contrast to the bra’s mock innocence, I’d gone all out with my makeup and hair—big tumbling curls that screamed bedhead, and dark smoky eyes that smoldered. I kept my lips as natural looking as possible with a light matte. I grabbed a pair of stiletto-heeled boots, remembering Max’s reaction to the black ones, a Hermès belt, and a white button-down top. My fingers shook as I put it on.

  Max had mentioned that George was having dinner with his family for his grandmother’s birthday and wouldn’t be back until late tonight. Since we both had roommates, opportunities to be alone were few and far between, and I wasn’t letting this one slip through my fingers. Ever since last week, since he’d said those words to me, he’d filled me with an ache I hadn’t been able to ease.

  It was time to hit second base.

  ###

  Max

  I opened the door and swallowed my tongue. Fleur stood in front of me dressed in white, but for a brown belt and brown knee-high boots, their heels higher and spikier than the ones she’d worn at Mist. Fuck-me boots. Her hair was a wild tumble of curls, her lips full, her eyes a mystery.

  “Hi.” Her accent curled around me and then slid inside.

  I swallowed again. “Hi.” I scrambled for words. “You look nice.”

  Amazing. Mind-blowing. I want to come inside you and never leave.

  Her lips curved, and she flashed me an irresistible smile. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I moved away from the doorway, realizing I’d been standing there like an idiot. She walked over the threshold, her body brushing against mine, her hips against my hips, her breasts against my chest.

  I was already hard. I shut the door behind us with a thud.

  We were supposed to be working on our project, but the mischief in her eyes told me she had other plans. And she didn’t have any books with her.

  I bypassed the couch in the middle of the room and sank down on the closest surface, the edge of my bed, my knees suddenly feeling like they needed the extra support.

  What was that perfume she was wearing? As if it wasn’t enough that she looked and sounded like temptation, she had to smell incredible, too.

  “So what’s up?” Even the words sounded strangled coming out of my mouth.

  Her smile widened. “I wanted you to take me somewhere.”

  I was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans; she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine. We definitely weren’t dressed for the same party.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  Fleur didn’t answer but kept walking until she was right in front of me. Her hands moved to the front of her white shirt and she began unbuttoning it, starting at the top and working her way down. With each flick of her fingers, another inch of her skin was exposed—her slim neck, the curve of her breasts, her flat, tanned stomach. Finally, she reached the bottom and pulled the shirt off her shoulders until it fell to the ground behind her.

  She stood in front of me in a bra that was heart-stopping. It was so sheer that it showed everything, the swell of her breasts, her nipples . . .

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered, my words somewhere between an exclamation and a plea.

  She moved forward and straddled me.

  I lost the ability to speak or string together a rational thought. I went off instinct when it was all I had. I wanted to go slowly. I wanted to be the best she’d ever had. I wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to devour her.

  My brain was a series of short circuits I couldn’t decipher, as once again, she got the jump on me. I hadn’t been expecting this tonight. Sure, neither of us was a virgin, and there was the whole, can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other thing. But still.

  Mind blown.

  My hands moved to cup her ass, bringing her closer to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then she leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

  “Take me to second base.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Fleur

  I was so turned on I was trembling.

  Max’s eyes widened at the sight of my bare skin, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked at me like he couldn’t really believe I was in his lap.

  I wasn’t exactly the nervous type, but this was Max, and everything was different with Max. There was nothing casual about this. It was intense, and desperate, and all consuming. I wanted this to be good for him. Hell, I wanted it to be good for me, too.

  He felt amazing between my legs, pressing against me as I straddled him on the bed. So hot with his hands molding to my shape, bringing my body closer as if he was never going to let me go.

  I fused my mouth to his, giving myself over to the kiss. It was already different from all the other kisses we’d shared. He kissed me like he was lost and I was the key to him being found. He kissed me with a hunger and a desperation I’d never felt from anyone before. His tongue invaded my mouth, as if marking his territory.

  We kissed for what felt like an hour, his hands holding me in place, all of our attention focused on our mouths. I’d always missed kissing once I started having sex. Costa had stopped caring if we kissed and, instead, focused on the main event. But there was something about kissing, an intimacy that took Max and me out of ourselves and placed each of us in the other’s body.

  We kissed and kissed until I couldn’t take it anymore. Until my hips were rocking against his, my body desperate for release. Until I rubbed my breasts against his chest, my nipples tight and aching for all the things he’d said he’d do to me.

  I broke away, moving to unhook my bra, when his hands caught mine.

  “Wait.” He seemed to force the word out, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin flushed, lips puffy, hair mussed, eyes huge.

  “I don’t want to wait. I can’t wait.”

  “Fleur.” Max stilled, his forehead touching mine. We stayed like that fo
r a minute or two as I slowly got my shit under control and his breathing calmed. And then he pulled back, his gaze on my face.

  Disappointment flooded me. Was that it? I didn’t come here expecting sex, wasn’t ready for that, but come on, second base. I’d spent three hundred pounds on a bra. I know he didn’t know that—and likely would think I was insane if he did—but there were expectations that came with a three-hundred-pound bra.

  I started to shift off him, but his hands came down on either side of my hips, holding me in place.

  Still hard. Really hard. I swallowed a moan.

  “Where are you going?” Max whispered, his eyes wide, his expression slightly dazed.

  I shrugged—an art to pull off when you were half-dressed. “You stopped.”

  His lips curved into a lopsided grin. “I didn’t stop for good. I just needed a moment. I mean, the kissing is great and all, but you said you wanted to go to second base, and I aim to please.”

  I gaped at him. He grinned at me.

  “Babe, I’m just getting started.”

  ###

  His hands, still on either side of my hips, pulled me up with him as he settled back against the headboard. He shifted me on top of his body. My stomach fluttered at the thought of his words—I’m just getting started.

  His lips curved as his hand moved from my hips to my cleavage. He hovered there, still not touching me, until one finger reached out and grazed the underside of my breast through my bra. I sucked in a deep breath.

  “Pretty,” he whispered, that wicked smile that called to me on his face. His finger moved over my breast, back and forth, his touch maddeningly slow and light. I arched my back, pushing myself into his palm, not really caring about anything beyond the need to have his hands on me.

  “I could play with you for hours like this,” he murmured, his expression lazy, his gaze heavy lidded with desire. “Do you know how you look sitting on my lap like this? So damned pretty.”

  My eyes closed and my head rolled back, giving myself over to the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand. It felt like liquid gold flowed through every vein in my body. I felt heady and rich; I felt weightless.

  I felt everything.

  His other hand came up from my hip, and I felt his fingertip tracing the same pattern on my other breast, my eyes still closed. For minutes he played with me like that, giving me a preview of what I needed, of what it could be like, without giving me what I really wanted. It was a delicious tease. And then I felt it, the pressure of his palm against my breast.

  He groaned. “Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about you like this?”

  He looks at you.

  Maggie’s words flew back to me now, and I wondered just how right she was.

  How long had this been going on? And how could I have been so stupid to not see what was right in front of me all along? How could I have been with George and Costa, when I could have had this?

  Max continued molding and shaping my breast with his palm, each brush against my skin filling me with heat. Finally, I felt the pressure of his fingertips rubbing my nipples through the sheer bra, rolling them between his fingers, pinching—

  My eyes slammed open as the moan fled my lips, and my body rocked forward.

  “You’re killing me,” I whispered, my mouth back on his.

  His eyes darkened.

  “And I haven’t even gotten to play yet,” I added.

  I reached between us, gripping the hem of his shirt, pulling it up until he leaned back and helped me yank it over his shoulders, and he sat before me in all his shirtless glory.

  “You get a few minutes to play, and then it’s all about you,” he warned with a teasing smile.

  I rolled my eyes. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

  He laughed. “Normally, no, but babe, I think I have to be bossy to keep up with you.”

  “Ha-ha,” I responded dryly, ignoring the flutters that sprang up at him calling me “babe” again. It was so American, but also sexy and kind of sweet, and it shocked me that I liked it. A lot.

  I leaned forward, my lips on his chest, using my hands, and teeth, and tongue to torment him as much as he’d tortured me. He was a guy, so it wasn’t the same, not by half, but by the way his body jerked beneath mine, he was massively turned on.

  Added bonus? The view was pretty spectacular.

  For someone who spent most of his time in the library, Max took care of his body. Really good care of his body. His shoulders were broad, his chest a little on the bulky side, his muscles defined. His stomach was ridges and hard planes, and looked like it didn’t have an inch of fat on it. The indentations on the sides of his hips were jaw-dropping. I lowered my fingers in the dips on either side, and he rocked against me.

  “If you go any farther, you’ll be trying to steal third.”

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  He laughed, his hands coming up to thread through my hair and massage the back of my head.

  “Come here,” he whispered, bringing our mouths together. Our lips caressed, and then he pulled back again.

  “My turn.”

  I wasn’t sure how many of his turns I could take.

  His hands left my hair and moved down my back, his fingers unhooking my bra strap in one swoop.

  I arched my eyebrow in surprise and he burst out laughing.

  “As much as it pains me to admit it, that was probably more dumb luck than actual skill. I promise there will be plenty of opportunities for you to bust my balls over my fumbling bra-removing skills.”

  God, he was adorable.

  “Good to know,” I replied with a smile.

  He grinned back at me, and then I watched as the smile slid off his face and my bra hit the floor.

  I didn’t have big breasts; I wasn’t built that way. But what I did have were firm breasts with a nice shape, and I liked them the way they were. The way Max looked at me made me love my breasts. Although, really, I was beginning to realize that with Max it was more about me than my body. I was falling so hard, so fast, and with my track record it was probably a dangerous combination.

  “Hey.” His hands found mine and linked our fingers together. “You okay? Where’d you go?”

  I hadn’t even realized my body had stiffened. He noticed everything.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We can stop if you want.” He gave me the sweetest smile that stole my breath. “Believe me, you’ve already fulfilled enough fantasies to last a lifetime. We should probably stop before I have a heart attack.”

  I shook my head with a smile. “I’m collecting on your promises.”

  “See? Bossy,” he teased, leaning forward. “Your wish is my command.”

  The last word got lost somewhere between us as his lips closed over my nipple, and pleasure flooded me.

  If his touch had been electric, his mouth was magic. Or maybe it was just that it was Max, and I liked everything he did to me. Whatever it was, my trip to second base had just become the hottest experience of my life.

  An hour later, when my breasts were heavy from his mouth and hands, my skin flushed, my nipples tight, my body rocked against his until, finally, my orgasm slammed into me, and I ended my drought.

  ###

  Max

  “Mmm. That was nice,” Fleur murmured into my arm, her voice sleepy.

  We both lay in my bed on our backs, her body tucked against mine, my arm around her shoulders lazily stroking her side.

  After the best time on second base I’d ever had, we put on clothes, ordered takeout Chinese, and collapsed on my bed. She’d changed into a pair of my boxers and one of my shirts, and the sight of her in my clothes had me hard again, even after I’d already come.

  I couldn’t remember the last time—my first time, maybe—that I’d gotten off from just over-the-clothes touching. If this was what second base was like with Fleur, home plate would be nirvana.

  “I can think of a few other words to describe it.”

  Fleur giggl
ed. “I can’t let you get a big head.”

  “Babe, you were squirming on my lap, and you moaned . . . a lot. Let me enjoy the moment.”

  She hit me in the side playfully, kissing my bare chest. She seemed to like me without a shirt on, and I’d decided I pretty much lived to give this girl what she wanted, so I rocked my boxers and nothing else.

  “I don’t want to move.” She groaned. “I’m actually sore. I work out five days a week. How am I sore?”

  “It was hours,” I teased. “Different muscle groups, maybe?”

  “Maybe.” She lifted up and looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand. “How much time do we have before George is back?”

  “A couple hours.”

  She was quiet for a long time. “I wish you had your own room.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Max?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “How slow is slow?”

  “What?”

  Fleur moved forward, laid her head on my chest, and my heart skipped a beat. “We said we were going to take things slow. How slow is slow?”

  I kissed the top of her head, my hand stroking her back, holding her in place against me. I didn’t know what answer to give her. The truth was I already wanted her in my bed, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to give her up. I wanted to fall asleep beside her and wake up next to her in the morning.

  “It probably just sped up a bit,” I admitted. “Keeping my hands off you is going to be a big challenge.”

  She nodded, and tension seemed to fill her body, and then fall away. “Good.”

  We stayed there for minutes, her head on my chest, my arms around her.

  “Max?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Samir’s throwing Maggie a surprise anniversary party this weekend at Babel. They’re celebrating one year of dating. I know clubs aren’t really your thing, but would you want to go with me?” She hesitated. “As my date?” she added.