Releasing Callie from her mouth, she scooted downward once more, pausing to place a hot kiss on the quaking abs above her before angling her head toward the heady scent of Callie’s need. Just before she got there, though, a set of firm fingers in her hair stopped her progress.
“Oh no you don’t. I didn’t call the button shot yet.” Callie brought up one knee and slipped off that leg of her pants before doing the same with the other. “And you came up just shy on the takeout shot.”
Max glanced down at the lower half of Callie’s body, now in all its fully exposed glory. “And yet there are no pants in the vicinity, so I couldn’t have mucked up the call too badly.”
Callie grinned down at her. “I swept you in. You’re welcome.”
“You’re the best skip I’ve ever had.”
“Best?” Callie teased. “Come on, Thesaurus. You can do better.”
“Uh.” Max’s mind swam with so many words and emotions, but she wouldn’t shrink from even the most playful of challenges. “Elite, supreme, the crème de la crème, the paramount.”
Callie adjusted her position so their eyes were level once more and their bare legs intertwined. “Paramount will do.”
Max laughed. She’d never been with anyone like this woman. She was all confidence and legs. The combination made her heart throb in places other than her chest. Then Callie was on her again, only this time she used her entire body. They tumbled around, making a mess of the sheets. Callie’s hair smelled like ice, and her hands felt like fire. Everywhere she touched, nerve endings incinerated, and Max’s brain filled with a haze of smoke.
“Touch me,” she panted.
“So soon?” Callie teased, as she licked a line from Max’s jaw to her ear. “I thought I was in charge here.”
Max growled. The game had been a fun little bit of foreplay, but she wasn’t actually good at taking orders. Pushing up off the bed once more, she used both speed and surprise to roll Callie onto her back and pin her arms to the bed. She smiled down at her. “Agility, dexterity, ingenuity, in case you were looking for some words to describe that move.”
Callie bit her lip as if trying to hide a smile. “You’re adorable.”
“Adorable?” She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean, cunning, suave, or maybe even mesmerizing?”
“I’m going to stick with adorable on this one,” Callie said. “Also, you failed to clear the guard on your last shot.”
Before she could even process the last part of the statement, Callie jerked both her wrists right out of Max’s grip, not just freeing her own hands, but causing Max to pitch forward. Callie made quick use of her lapse in balance to sweep Max’s knees wider. Then with one hand flat against her chest, Callie rolled her over and straddled her thighs.
“Holy hell,” Max muttered from her newly prone position.
“Are you challenging my leadership style?”
She shook her head. “You are really strong.”
“And you’re quick.” A new hint of admiration laced Callie’s tone. “Not many people catch me by surprise.”
“Then, I’d say we’re even, ’cause not many people keep me on my back for long, but then again, I’m still on my back, so we don’t actually feel very even.”
Callie leaned forward and kissed her hard. Clutching Max’s T-shirt in her fist, she pulled back up and brought Max with her until they both sat almost upright. Callie straddled Max’s legs, her knees spread, and her chest right at eye level. “That position feel a little more equal to you?”
Max ran her hands over the subtle curve of Callie’s waist and up her ribs, pushing her shirt as she went until the breasts she’d teased earlier broke free and firm. “This works for me.”
“Good, because it’s time to take round one.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “Button shot?”
“Button shot,” Callie confirmed, then with a sly smile said, “I’m assuming you don’t need me to point a broom in the general direction of where this particular button is located.”
Max tried to sigh dramatically but couldn’t quite pull it off with Callie naked and open and so very close. “No, I may not know curling the way you do, but I think I can find the button.”
“You think?” Callie teased. “That’s reassuring.”
The sense of challenge surged in her again, and placing one hand flat against Callie’s back, she pushed her into a magnificent arc. She set to work kissing along her chest and breasts, but she punctuated each kiss with words and phrases like, “familiarity,” “considerable experience,” and “some might even say expertise.” But the playfulness had faded long before she reached the last one. Callie stayed, knees spread, back arched, but she began to grind her hips. She moved, first in slow, small circles, then as Max sucked harder on a nipple, increased the pressure between them.
Max took the hint, with pleasure, and worked a hand between the point where their legs connected. She managed only a fleeting thought of Callie’s earlier comment about pointing the way, because the wetness she found there more than did the job. Both of them moaned in confirmation as she slipped inside.
“Yes,” Callie whispered through clenched teeth, as she moved her own body up and down.
Max clutched at her back, both attempting to help steady her and trying to touch as much exposed skin as possible. Everything about this woman was sheer magnificence. She managed to be both strong and supple simultaneously, and holy hell could she move. Her hips and ass made the most erotic circles, guiding Max in and out, up and down. Before long, Max’s own body surged into the rhythm, thrusting forward and back in time to Callie’s need. She didn’t even know how long they’d been going at it—seconds, minutes, hours—and still Callie urged her on, tightening around her in every way.
“Yes,” she hissed again, dragging her fingers through Max’s hair and along her scalp. “Don’t stop.”
She had no intention of stopping until Callie collapsed, and maybe not even then. Working her thumb free from the press between them, she ran it along Callie’s clit, causing her to jerk forward dramatically. Max’s heart hammered against her ribs at the sense of power pulsing through her. She repeated the motion to the same result from each of them.
“Right there,” Callie panted, holding her tighter. “Perfect.”
Every part of her soared, both from the words and the crush of Callie’s body flush against her own. Heat spread into a fire between them, muscles tightened to hold them both upright, and sweat prickled along smooth skin as Max zoned in on her target. She might have even thought she was in control of the situation if not for Callie calling out, “Harder, hard, yes, yes, hard all the way.”
She couldn’t have resisted the insistent blend of commanding and need, even if she’d wanted to, but no part of her did. She held firm even as Callie’s steady movements devolved into spasms, and her voice, so strong and compelling, faded in groans. They rode out each wave in unison, fused and frantic until only aftershocks remained; then they rode those to completion as well before collapsing back to the bed.
Chapter Eighteen
Callie rolled over and snuggled closer to the warmth Max’s body provided, but her new position also put her face toward the sun streaming through the windows. She tried desperately to ignore the pink tint on her eyelids, but a nagging thought urged her up. She threw her arms over her eyes, offering herself some prolonged darkness, but the vague unease wasn’t as easy to banish. Her mind continued trying to fire through the haze. Sunlight . . . Max . . . warmth . . . sleep . . . morning . . . “Shit.”
“Hmm?”
“We did it again,” Callie grumbled.
“We did it several times,” Max said, pride evident even in her sleepy tone.
“No. I mean, yeah. We did, but we also fell asleep.”
“You earned it, Skip.”
She smiled in spite of the situation. “Thanks. You, too. I meant it’s morning, and I haven’t gone back to my room. Layla’s going to know, and if I don’t make it down for
breakfast, so will everyone else.”
“Oh,” Max said. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Something about the comment or its flat delivery made Callie open her eyes.
Max lay on her back, the sheet pulled only to her waist. Her revealed form was classically appealing, from the soft rise at her stomach to her muscled torso and firm breasts. Her jawline seemed even stronger in profile, and her neutral expression made for smooth planes around her lips to her cheeks and even her forehead. Still, the picture didn’t quite speak to serenity so much as a blank slate, and after the openness of their recent encounters, Callie craved something more.
“I don’t want to just run off without getting to talk like last time,” Callie said.
“It’s okay.” Max still didn’t open her eyes. “We’ll see each other at the club.”
“But we don’t really get to talk there, either.”
“Right.” Max sighed softly. “People might notice.”
It was the second comment alluding to people not knowing about them, and while neither one had been sharp or pointed, she didn’t like the feeling they left her with. As if sensing her discomfort, Max rolled over to face her, those gray eyes finally fluttering open. “Good morning.”
The happiness that spread through her at those two simple words suggested this was how she should’ve started the conversation. Maybe this was how she should start every conversation, or at least every morning. “I’m sorry.”
“About last night?”
“No!” The fact that Max could even think such a thing made her chest ache. “That I woke up in a panic . . . again. That I didn’t take the time to kiss you awake. That I was already worried about other things before I got to thank you for last night.”
“There’s no need to thank me or apologize. I loved every minute of last night.”
“But this morning—”
“Is what it is,” Max cut in. “We’re both adults, and unlike last time we didn’t just get carried away in the heat of a moment. We both came here knowing what to expect.”
“I don’t know.” Callie smiled. “I think I found a few things surprising last night.”
“Well, maybe that time you took me up against the . . .” Max’s face flushed, and she had to clear her throat. “We probably shouldn’t rehash the highlight reel at the moment, or you’ll never make your flight back to Buffalo. I only meant you and I are in very similar boats.”
“We are?”
“Yes. We’ve got this kinetic energy that neither of us really seems able, or even inclined, to resist.”
“So little resistance.”
“I like you, Callie. I am attracted to you—like, off the charts attracted, and not just physically. You inspire me. You make me want to believe in things again. You make me feel like myself again.”
She cupped Max’s smooth face in her hands. “That makes me even happier than last night made me, and that’s saying an awful lot.”
“Good. Then my work for today is done.” Max kissed her, too quickly for either of them to linger. “No more need to rehash or process.”
“None?”
“None.”
“No one is freaking out this time?”
“I’m not,” Max said.
“No one is going to disappear for a whole week and not show up to the club until the next tournament?”
“The next tournament isn’t until January. I can’t promise I won’t take some days off between now and then, but we both have work to do, and that’s another thing we have in common. We both put work first.”
She frowned at the comment. Not because it was untrue, but because it wasn’t. She’d always put her team first, and she would do so again, but in this moment that didn’t feel as good as it always had, maybe because she’d never had anything better in her life to choose work over.
“It’s okay,” Max whispered. “We’re on the same page. I wasn’t expecting breakfast in bed or out anywhere someone might see us. I know the drill.”
More warning bells went off in her mind. Max talked about this all so matter-of-factly because she thought she understood what Callie was thinking and feeling. She thought she’d been through this situation before. She’d take what they could get. She’d play second fiddle. She’d hide for the sake of her career and to protect Callie. She thought this was just like . . . Sylvia. “No.”
“No?” Max stared at her.
“You don’t know this drill, Max.”
“Um . . . okay.”
“It’s not okay. I am not okay with leaving you like this.”
Max shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Maybe you are,” Callie said, “but I’m not, and honestly I’m not the kind of person who strives for just fine. I’m kind of an overachiever. I want great. I want awesome. I want everything.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the thesaurus,” Max teased, but her eyes were finally showing some focus, and that focus was squarely on Callie.
“You are not some dirty little secret to me,” she continued. “You and I have this thing—I don’t know what to call it yet because it’s new, and it’s complicated—but I’m not ashamed of you or of anything we’ve done.”
Max tried to turn away, but Callie held her face close. “Don’t pull away right now.”
“I’m not good, Callie,” Max said, in a voice that made her seem smaller. “If people found out we were—whatever it is we’re doing here—it would only bring negative attention to you at a time when you should be the toast of your whole community.”
She pursed her lips as a little prick of defiance stung in her chest.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Max sighed. “You remember how Ella reacted when I only made you frown? Imagine that times a million if anyone found out about this. Trust me. Go back to work. It’s what we both know. It’s what we’re both good at. Nobody gets to have it all, especially someone who’s made the mistakes I’ve made.”
She was right. They both knew it. Neither of them could afford to lose focus, even for one minute.
She sat up and drew her knees to her chest, then smiled down at Max. “You’re probably right.”
“I am definitely right,” Max said, in a way that was equal parts emphatic and sad.
“Yeah.” Callie cast off the covers and pulled on her pants. She couldn’t argue with any of Max’s points, and if she was going to keep this thing quiet, she needed to go now. She needed to meet her team, catch a flight, review video, up her workouts, practice, practice, and practice some more. That was her life. Those were her priorities. And yet, when she listed all the things she wanted, shame wasn’t on the list.
She grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head, then turned back to face Max. “How do you feel about weddings?”
“Uh, I’m not looking to have one in the immediate future, and—holy shit, did I get you pregnant?”
“What?” Callie stared at her for a second and burst out laughing. “No, I wasn’t proposing. I only mean . . . do you hate going to weddings?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think I have strong opinions about them either way.”
“Good, then you won’t mind being my date to Ella’s.”
Max stared at her as if she’d spoken another language.
“I wasn’t going to take anyone because I’m in the wedding party, but it’s going to be kind of a big event, and if I know Ella, there will be lots of tulle, and probably some country music, and maybe a synchronized dance of some sort, and now I’m starting to think it might be nice to not have to experience those horrors alone.”
The corners of Max’s mouth curled up, but she still didn’t speak.
Callie sat back down on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. “I like you. And I’m not ready to put any label on us beyond that—Lord knows, I can’t commit much time or energy to plans for the future, but I’m not ashamed of wanting more of this.”
Max scooted closer. “I’m not ashamed, either, but if people find out about us they
’ll—”
“I don’t care.” Callie cut her off. “Honestly, the more someone tells me I can’t make something work, the more I want to prove them wrong.”
“I know that feeling pretty well.”
She grinned. “I noticed that the first time you stepped onto the ice.”
“You mean when I fell?”
“No, when you got back up.”
“I always get back up,” Max said.
“Good, then I won’t have to worry about Ella’s big curling wedding being the thing that finally breaks you.”
Max snorted softly. “Only you would take a conversation about how we need to be careful and turn it into an invitation to the biggest social event on your calendar.”
“Did I mention Ella picked out my bridesmaid dress?”
“I’m in,” Max said quickly. “If you’re going in an Ella-inspired dress, I would love to be your date.”
“Date,” Callie repeated, then kissed her quickly. “I like the sound of that.”
Max breathed in a lungful of icy air and blew it out slowly, causing a translucent cloud to form in front of her. Who the hell had an outdoor wedding in Western New York on New Year’s Eve? Jamming her hands in the pockets of her long, gray coat, she watched a couple of kids in khakis and dress shirts pelt each other with snowballs.
To be fair, everyone kept talking about how unseasonably warm the weather had been, but she’d never considered thirty degrees warm in any season. The Buffalonians must’ve been spawned from heartier stock, because everyone milling around outside the giant white tent that Ella and her fiancé had erected for the event seemed perfectly fine. Then again, it seemed like less than half of the people she’d met today were actually from Buffalo. The rest were all curlers, which probably explained a lot about their tolerance for the cold.
As if to illustrate her internal point, a group of curlers she vaguely recognized walked by wearing only light jackets, and she shook her head.
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