A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (27 page)

Nicola shot Max a questioning glance.
 

He leaned over and whispered, so as not to disturb Lachlan, "You have your tactile phase. Lachlan has a moody-drunkenly-spouting Shakespeare phase."

She giggled into her palm. "Is it always that speech?"

"He does
Hamlet
soliloquys sometimes."

Lachlan recited on, unaware of their conversation, "'This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land . . . '" the lilting voice continued, stirring and rich despite the fact Lachlan was wasted. Nicola suffered a brief pang of professional jealousy. Damn, Lachlan had a cool voice.
 

The Shakespeare trailed off and was replaced by slightly less melodious snoring.
 

Nicola laughed, and Max beamed back at her. Her heart seemed to fill her throat, her nerves firing with a tingling, hot anticipation.
Love-performing night. Leap to these arms
.
 

Max
.

Yes.
 

Chapter Seventeen

When they reached The Bunkhouse, Max didn't even try to wake Lachlan, he just slung the other man over his shoulders in a fireman hold. Nicola hurried before Max and held the door open. Max walked straight past her through the arched doorway that let into the living room and dumped Lachlan onto the leather couch. Max made sure the other man was situated on his side.

"Will Lach be all right?" she asked.

"Yeah. He sleeps here more than his bedroom most nights. When he doesn't have company," Max said.
 

Nicola twisted her hands together. She and Max were alone. She was horny. He was gorgeous. They'd already done it. A lot. Recently too.
Go, Nicola, go
.

But instead she swallowed, her nerve stalling out.
 

"You OK?"

"
Sure
," she chirped out.
 

"Do you, uh, want something to sleep in?"

Nicola cleared her throat. "Yes, please."

The wooden stairs creaked as Max paced up them, and Nicola ran her hand over the banister, admiring its smoothness and shine. She snorted to herself.
Tactile phase
. She glanced away from the wood to find herself staring straight at the round, ripe perfection of Max's ass. As her tactile urges went to Defcon Five Red Alert, she squeezed the banister.
Down, girl
.
 

Max stopped and she almost body-slammed in to him. He wheeled toward her, frowning. "
OK what
?" he all but wailed.

Nicola staggered down one step and cranked her neck back to stare at him. "What what?"

"You're freaking me out."

"Huh?"

He lowered his body to sit on the top step and flailed with his hands in a formless, wordless gesture of frustration. "You're staring at me. You've been staring at me. So: what is it? What's going on with you?"

"Oh." Nicola swallowed, and she made something very like a
gulp
noise as she did. She hadn't expected a direct approach, hadn't really been expecting anything. Her plan had pretty much amounted to
Get Max in Bed
. Somehow. But talking? Trying to articulate the riot of feeling inside her, the fear, the wanting? "Um . . . "

"Yes?"

She leaned against the banister and squeezed her eyes closed. If
he
could be direct then
she
could be direct. "Actually, Maxim, I was thinking, hoping, to take advantage of you tonight. Somehow."
 

He said nothing.

For a very long time he said nothing.
 

Nicola peeled one eye open to make sure he hadn't stormed away in disgust. He hadn't. Max sat at the top of the stars, wrists resting on his knees, big and beautiful, utterly shell-shocked. He blinked at her a few times; his mouth opened and closed.
 

She sidled nearer to him, kneeling on the step below so she was in between his legs as she met his gaze. "How do you feel about being taken advantage of?"

"I, uh, thought there'd be more talking first. Before we got around to this part of things." He wet his lips then stared at her mouth. "Out of curiosity, how were you planning to take advantage of me?"

She ghosted her mouth over his in an almost-kiss which left her blood tingling like champagne bubbles ran through her veins. "Well, I won that big Sonnet Faceoff tonight. Some might say that sort of accomplishment deserves an adoring crowd and groupies. I already had the adoring crowd at the bar."

"Hmm," Max murmured. "I'm supposed to be the groupie? You dazzle me with your accomplishments then take advantage of my credulous simplicity?"

Nicola laughed and touched his mouth, tracing the softness of his lips. "Have I ever told you how much I love it that you can casually quote Shakespeare
and
Gilbert and Sullivan?"

 
"No, but you could start." He threaded his fingers into her hair, and his other hand slid behind her back, urging her to her feet as he stood.

"I love it." She bit his ear, and he hissed in a breath.

"'I am the very model of a modern, major general,'" he crooned off-key. "'I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral – '"

"Maxim, love poetry might be a bit more appropriate just now."

His expression softened, and he framed her face, cradling her cheeks in his hands, staring deeply into her eyes. "'Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short
minute
gives me in her sight.'" He kissed her slowly and with that same heartbreaking reverence, as if he'd found celestial grace in her arms.

This was supposed to be light, a fling. She pressed a palm to his chest, holding him back from her.

"What is it?" he asked.

She tucked an errant strand of gold hair behind his ear. "Nothing."

He smiled and kissed her, and she imagined she could taste his smile on her mouth, the dizzying warmth of it. Max kept kissing her as he walked backwards on the stairs, taking her with him across the landing. They fetched up together to knock into one of the closed bedroom doors. His mouth met hers, firm and wet and delicious. She groaned against his lips; it felt so good her earlier worries simply evaporated.

He broke away, dusting kisses along her neck.

She chewed her lower lip, fumbling to hold onto her brain as it tried to float away on a cloud of bliss. "Am I wrong, or is there a bedroom behind this door you've got me pressed against?"

"There is," he said against her skin, his breath blowing hot over her collarbone.
 

She shivered. "We didn't make it that far last time. It might be nice to try this lying down."
 

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight," he said and kissed her soundly on the mouth.
 

Heat pooled low in her belly, and a greedy need. But then her brain caught up. "What?"

He nibbled her ear. "I'm not sleeping with you tonight."

She shoved against his shoulders. "
Why not?
"

Max sighed, and pressed more gentle kisses to her neck that made her shiver. "How much did you drink tonight? I don't want you hating me or yourself in the morning."

"Seriously, Max?
Seriously?
" Nicola held him at arm's length and stared into his eyes, making sure he saw she was in her right senses as she said, "I've been wanting to sleep with you ever since the
last
time we slept together. All I've been thinking about for days,
weeks
, is sleeping with you. You think I need a couple drinks in me before I want to fuck you, Fiesengerke?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"
No
." She grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, dragging him down so she could kiss him, ravish his mouth, wrap herself around him and press against that gorgeous body. His arms banded around her waist as she kissed him, and he lifted her. Nicola jumped and tangled her legs around his hips, rubbing against his bulge.
 

"Oh
yes
." She rocked against him, pressing into his glorious length.
 

"
Nicci
." He tangled his fingers in her hair and cupped her head. His tongue swept into her mouth. She moaned and ached and arched and squeezed, wanting to be as close to him as she could, wanting to join with him, be one with him.
 

"Bedroom," she gasped when he pulled away.
 

Max fumbled behind, his hand slapping and thumping against the door as he tried to find the knob without having to stop kissing her. He got the door open but lost his balance and tripped. Nicola fell on top of him in a snarl of limbs on the floor.
 

Max thumped his head against the carpet. "Ow."

Nicola un-wedged herself and crawled up his body. "Now you know how I always feel."

He tilted her chin and licked into her mouth. "No sympathy? You're a hard woman, Nicci."

She straddled him, and rubbed herself against his erection, thrusting with her hips and arching her back. "I'm not the one who's hard."

He growled and rolled her onto her back. Once he was on all fours above her he kicked the door closed. "No interruptions."

No interruptions
. She wet her lips, an insistent ache starting between her legs.
 

He kissed her, and she grabbed at handfuls of his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over his head then smoothing her hands along the tapered muscles of his bare back, his arms. He kissed her, his thumb tracing circles on her temple. "No regrets?" he whispered.

Nicola reached for the button on his jeans and popped it open. "No . . . " She slid down his zipper. " . . . regrets." Sticking her hands under his waistband, she squeezed his ass then pulled the pants low, kicking his clothes the rest of the way off with her feet until boxers and jeans were shed, until Max lay above her in nothing but his golden skin.
 

She stretched, pressing her body against his, tracing her hands all over his warmth, into his hair, over his cheek and mouth. He kissed her fingers and nibbled her neck. His cock nudged insistently at her pussy where all the layers of her clothing still separated them.
 

"This isn't fair." He smoothed his hands up her ribcage to cup her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples again and again, centering her pleasure to those two small spots.
 

She bent like a bow to his touch, and restrained a moan. "You're my groupie for the night. Remember?" Her bones went liquid as his hands traced over her body, over her breasts and ribs, massaging her legs. "I'm taking advantage of you." She gasped as his hand slid up her calf to settle between her legs. He cupped her sex, pressing his thumb against her clit through her underwear.

He was warm everywhere and firm. Chiseled perfection. But his mouth was soft, tender against her lips and neck. He was perfect. Exactly what she needed. Everything she wanted.
 

"Don't you think," he said and bit at her neck even as his hand rubbed against her clit, "you might want to lose some clothes here, Nic?"

She writhed under him and her elbows dragged over the carpet beneath them. "If I'm getting naked we're taking this to the bed. I don't need rug burn on my ass."

"Fair enough." Max scooped her into his arms and dropped her onto the queen bed. She bounced into its softness, the blankets and throw pillows flying around her. Luxuriating among the scattered bedding, she admired Max. He
was
perfect. Like an exquisite statue come to life, except Max was warm flesh and soft hair and laughing blue eyes staring at her as they made love.
 

He came to her, sinking one knee into the mattress, his cock like iron as it thrust from his hips. He peeled her out of her clothes, smoothing his hands over her skin as he bared each inch of it. He was careful, watchful, as if he were savoring every distinct moment, storing the images up. He bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth, lashing it tenderly with his tongue. She cried out, shuddering at the delicious friction. He eased away, licking down her body until he was kissing her navel. She fisted her hands in his hair, letting the silky gold slide through her fingers. He eased her backwards onto the bed and skinned her pants off her hips so she lay totally naked under him.

Working his way south, he kissed her hipbone then the inside of her thighs, his lips a delicious tickle over her skin, his beard soft and foreign, a tantalizing caress across her most sensitive areas. Cupping her bottom, he spread her legs, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks, then he licked inside her. She practically rocketed off the bed as soon as his mouth laved over the sensitive flesh there. "Oh
fuck
.
Max
." She groaned it out, making his name into two ecstatic, disbelieving syllables.
 

He pressed his tongue against her, his movements skillful, firm – which wasn't nearly enthusiastic enough as a description to convey the head-bangingly glorious sensation of his mouth dipping and nibbling and licking at her. She writhed in his hold and combed her fingers into his hair, holding on as he lapped at her. He stuck one finger into her, then two, pushing deep inside, tickling and twisting as he licked. She shuddered against his mouth and turned her head into the pillow to gasp out a cry. He flicked over her clit, and she felt the tingles starting there, her blood flowing like starlight through her body as her focus narrowed and centered to that delicious pressure, that building release. He stroked her. Again. Again. She twisted her fingers in his hair, holding on as she lost control. The world blacked out, the inside of her head exploding in a burst of starfire and heat and tenderness.