Crazy for Love (11 page)

Her laughter was still fading, a smile still hovering on her lips, when Chloe found herself caught up in Max's arms and was overwhelmed with the feel
of him. As if she'd been standing in a calm sea and was suddenly overtaken by a crashing wave.

His hands slid hot and rough over her back as he dragged his open mouth down her neck. Her belly pressed to his naked skin. He felt like the sun and smelled like it, too. Hot and clean and stunning. Her bra fell away and she gasped loudly at the feel of his skin against her nipples.

Max went to his knees as if the feeling were too much for him, as well.

“Max,” she whispered, but her whisper turned to a moan when his mouth touched the underside of her breast.

“My God, you're beautiful.” His breath skipped over the curve of her breast.

She could do nothing but breathe, then breathe even harder as his mouth traced a slow path upward. The tanned skin of his face made her skin look like fine white silk. The faint roughness of his chin made her shiver. Nearly dizzy with anticipation, she watched his tongue turn a careful circle around her nipple. She closed her eyes just as his lips closed and heat and suction became her whole world.

She felt everything, the push of his tongue and the sucking and the delicious sharpness when he pressed his teeth into her. She felt it all, and her hands were shaking when she buried them in his hair.

They'd only known each other a few days, and
yet it seemed that every minute, every second, since she'd seen him, Chloe had been waiting to feel his mouth on her. To feel this wildness take over her body.

As he sucked at her and skimmed his hands up her thighs to sneak beneath her skirt, her body tightened to an unbearable knot of need. He was touching the curve of her ass now, slipping beneath the fabric of her panties. His thumbs rested on her hips, but the tips of his fingers were so close to where she needed them.

Her pulse beat there, every push of blood adding pressure to her sex. This was almost painful, and Chloe suddenly understood the desperation of teen age boys who seemed willing to say anything to be touched. She'd say anything right now. Do anything.

A low whimper escaped from her throat. She curled a fist tighter into his hair.

Max kissed his way to the other breast, but more important, his hands edged toward the seam of her body.

She was going to die. Turn in upon herself until there was nothing left. The tension she'd suffered in the past month was nothing compared to this.

But he was so close…. Her breath hitched and then his fingers brushed over wetness.

“Ah,” she gasped, body jerking in his hold as
his touch slid over her. Pleasure sprang from his fingertips, jagging through her body on a rough, unsteady course. She felt swollen with lust, breaking open with it.

“Christ,” Max cursed. “I can't…”

His hand slipped away, and Chloe gasped in horrified alarm, but then he yanked her underwear down and stripped her bare, thank
God.

The bed was only a foot behind her, so when he guided her back, Chloe collapsed willingly. Her back had barely touched the mattress when Max pushed her skirt up to expose her completely. Looking at her, he murmured something too low to hear, but Chloe had no time to puzzle it out, because his mouth was on her then. No time to prepare or anticipate. His tongue licked and his thumbs feathered over the sensitive flesh that she'd bared for the sake of her bikini line.

“Max,” she whispered. “Oh, Jesus.”

Thomas had done this, of course. Who would marry a man who didn't? But he'd never been nearly so thorough.

Max slid his tongue slowly over her, as if listening for every moan or a hitch in her breath. He flicked over her clit, chuckling when she jerked against him, then sucked at the soft skin that framed her sex before circling back to the spot that made her cry out.

“Max,” she gasped. “Please.”

“Foreplay, Chloe,” he whispered. “Remember?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Too late.” His tongue traced her again, delving inside for a moment, teasing her, not going nearly as deep as she needed.

“No, please. Just… You've been celibate and I need… Next time. Next time we'll do foreplay.”

“Uh-uh.” The sound vibrated into her, making her whimper. His tongue flicked against her clit, just enough pressure to torture and not enough to make her come.

“Ohgod-ohgod-ohgod,” she chanted, arching her back, trying to open herself wider to him. Her hands clutched the bedspread. They should be clutching his hair, forcing him, but she couldn't relax her muscles enough to let go of the blanket.

Finally, in a small act of mercy, Max pressed a finger slowly inside her, his tongue still torturing her with small, firm licks. But the pressure of his finger was heaven on top of hell, and she moaned his name in relief.

He thrust into her once, twice, and she pushed up to meet him in a desperate attempt to get him deeper.

“Okay,” he breathed. “You win. I can't wait.”

He deserted her completely, and for a moment, she was lost. Sinking into deep, lonely water, close
to weeping with the loss. But she heard the rustle of clothing and a faint rip of a plastic wrapper, and then his strong hands were bracing her hips and inching her farther off the end of the bed…

She curled her fists so tightly that they ached. Lights danced behind her clenched eyelids. And then the head of his cock slid against her sex until it caught snugly just inside her.

“Yes,” she prayed aloud.

He pushed slowly, opening her with steady pressure. Chloe tried to breathe and couldn't. Breathing would distract her from the feeling of his wide shaft filling her up.

She didn't need to look to know that he was bigger than Thomas. Her sex squeezed against the welcome invasion.

“Christ,” he breathed as his hips settled against her thighs. His fingers spread wide against her stomach as if to hold her steady.

Chloe finally drew a breath, and she opened her eyes.

He looked beautiful above her, face tight with concentration as he stared down at their joined bodies. His shoulders were impossibly wide, his arms corded with tense muscles. Then he raised his gaze to her face, and Chloe gasped. Heat lit his brown eyes so they glinted like copper. He looked wild and tender all at once.

Eyes still locked on hers, Max slid out and thrust hard into her. Oh, boy, he was definitely bigger than Thomas. For a moment, she had to fight the panicked urge to push her toes into the carpet and back away. But then his thumb slid down to brush her clit and the next thrust pushed a pleased cry from her throat.

He wasn't too big at all. He was just
perfect,
and when Chloe arched up to meet him, Max whispered curses under his breath and took her faster. He slid more easily now, as her body finally adjusted to his width, and she could tilt her hips into every thrust, every deep slide of his cock.

She closed her eyes against the brightness of the room, so that all the light gathered into heat inside her. Heat that tightened and circled around every small rub of his thumb.

Oh, God, that was good. So good. And his body was so…
inside
her. More solid than any other part of her, the force coalescing every sensation in her body into that tight center.

Toes pressed hard to the floor, Chloe rose up against his next thrust, and everything inside her squeezed tight around him until the tension set her free. She threw her head back and cried out her shocked pleasure. He grabbed her hips to hold her close against him as the climax shook through her.
Long after she'd stopped jerking against him, his fingers clutched her hips in a hard grip.

Chloe forced her unwilling eyes open to look at him. His gaze was locked on her face, the muscles of his jaw standing out in stark relief. And his hair was a mess. Tousled and slightly damp, as if he were back on the deck of a ship. But she'd done that to him. Made him mad-eyed and wild-haired. She smiled.

His fierce expression didn't budge. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are when you come.”

Though she was limp and boneless, Max lifted her toward him as if she weighed nothing. Still deep inside her, he put his arms around her and kissed her hard.

Chloe curled her legs around his hips as he began to thrust again. He came like that, kissing her, his whole body pressed to hers, their skin slick with sweat.

At that moment, Chloe had the silly and terrifying thought that she could stay wrapped around Max Sullivan forever.

H
ER HIP ROSE UP
from her waist in an enticing curve, drawing Max's eye every time he tried to form a thought. Not that he was in a thought-conducive position, pressed naked against Chloe's back while she curled into his pillows like a cat. He eased his hand onto her hip and followed the contour up to her ribs. “You are so damn soft.”

“I wish you'd stop saying that. You're making me feel fat.”

“That's not what I mean,” he said. Genevieve had been whip-thin and elegant and well-manicured at all times. Chloe was perfect, with her soft curves and fresh, natural beauty.

“Your skin is soft,” he said belatedly, and that was true, too. And she smelled good. And her breasts…and her sex…

Jesus.

Maybe he was just OD'ing on femaleness. Maybe nine months of celibacy had drained his body of any resistance to their delicious charms. Or maybe it
was that she was the girl next door he'd always dreamed of.

Max closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck. Even as he breathed in the scent of her skin, he told himself to cut it out. This was an island fling. She wasn't going to be his girlfriend. She was way too
normal
to be his girlfriend.

But her body fit against his perfectly, melting into him as if she felt the same draw he did.

“So…” she said. “You also have a fear of out-of-wedlock pregnancy?”

The words shocked a cough from his throat. “Good God, can you imagine me with a kid?”

She wiggled onto her back to look up at him. “Aw, I think you'd be an adorably overprotective dad.”

Max automatically reached for the headboard to rap it with his knuckles. “Knock on wood when you say shit like that.” She laughed, but he wiped a hand over his brow. “I'd be a complete nightmare.” But he felt a twist of disappointment in his gut at his own words. He liked kids. But so many bad things could happen to them, and any kid of his would be the one life he actually would be 100 percent responsible for. Max barely bit back a shiver at the thought.

Luckily, he was saved from descent into panicked thoughts by the realization that Chloe's chest was fully visible. “Have I mentioned how gorgeous you
are?” He cupped one breast in his hand as a blush crept up her neck.

“Yes. You mentioned it. But I'd like to make clear that I think you're ridiculous.”

“I'm not ridiculous.” He softly dragged his fingers over her nipple, watching as it pebbled at his touch.

“I'm entirely average.”

He noted the faint rasp to her words and smiled as he touched her. “Perhaps you don't understand just how much men like women's bodies. If you mean you have an average dress size…you're naked now, Chloe, and that means you're officially spectacular.”

“Really? Is that all it takes?”

“That and your gorgeousness.”

“Ha!” She shook her head again, but her smile was more than a little pleased. He pressed a lingering kiss to that grin.

“It's nice,” he said. “Being honest with you.”

The smile faded. “Lying to everyone can't be fun.”

“Oh.” Max flushed with shame and dropped to his back. “I prefer to think of it as living in a disguise.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”

“It's fine.”

“I just don't know how you have relationships if you never reveal that part of yourself.”

He shrugged, aware of the way her hair shifted against his shoulder. “Haven't you ever kept part of yourself hidden from a boyfriend?”

Silence filled the room, and Max was thankful for it. He'd been in several long-term relationships, but he couldn't say any of them had been meaningful, not on his part. He'd spent every month with each of those women watching for a sign that he was free to leave gracefully. Luckily, with women who lived for drama, there was always an obvious ending point. Usually the point at which Max became boring and another man promised scandal and excitement.

He should feel lucky that he'd never been invested enough to have his heart broken, but instead, each breakup had left him emptier. Taking care of a woman wasn't the same thing as loving her. It was draining, and it was a lie.

“Yes,” Chloe finally said. “I've hidden things from people before.”

Max nodded. “Sometimes you just get caught up in it.”

She inhaled so deeply that Max frowned at the ceiling. “Can you really love someone if you keep so many things hidden from them?”

He thought he'd answer no, but something in the tone of her words stopped him. Max didn't think
she was talking about him now. “I don't know,” he answered carefully. “I keep part of myself separate from my brother, and I obviously love him.”

“Yeah,” she answered hesitantly.

Max felt fear spiral inside his chest. He liked her, and even though he told himself it didn't matter, he couldn't stand the thought that she might look at him and see an awful, twisted person.

But while he was still deciding what he could say to distract her, Chloe turned toward him and slipped an arm around his chest. “You've got to find a girl who doesn't mind that you're a control freak.”

“I'm not a control freak.”

“You totally are. Embrace it.”

“I just want people to be careful. That's all.”

“Uh-huh. Also, you're a control freak.”

“I'm n—”

Her hand left trails of shimmery stars against his skin when she edged it beneath the blanket and slid down his stomach. “You're a control freak,” she whispered as she wrapped her hand around his half-hard dick. “Admit it.”

Max frowned, meaning to deny it as he had his whole life, but she was stroking him, making a faintly sympathetic humming sound in her throat.

“Admit it.”

He shook his head, concentrating on the wonder
ful pressure of her squeezing fingers. “I take care of people,” he murmured. “They need me.”

But this was a new conversation for him, and his adamance couldn't be sustained, not when Chloe straddled his thighs and continued her persuasive techniques. And she was so damn naked.

“Say it, Max. You'll feel better.”

He watched her hand flex and tighten and knew she was right. Look how much better he was already feeling.

“You're right,” he admitted. “I am a control freak.”

“Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?”

No, it hadn't been that hard. On the other hand, as she scooted down and leaned over his dick, Max was pretty sure it had never been so very hard before.

“I really like being honest with you, Chloe Turner.”

 

J
ENN LEANED OVER
to slip her sandal off and shake out yet another rock. “I'm sorry,” she murmured to Elliott as she grasped the arm he offered for balance.

Elliott looked down the long, straight stretch of road and frowned. “How about we just take off our shoes and walk on the beach instead? It would be cooler.”

She was so aware of the largeness of his forearm
beneath her fingers that it took her far too long to get her sandal back on her foot. By the time she let go of him, she was babbling. “Oh, sure. The beach. And more appropriate on a date, I suppose…even though it's not really a date.”

His jaw tensed just as it had when she'd said that over dinner.

“I mean…we both knew that Max and Chloe wanted time alone, so I'm really happy you brought up dinner. It was a good idea.”

“Thank you.” He looked away from her, eyes sliding over the watery horizon. “I had a nice time.”

“So did I!” she said far too loudly. Oh, God, this was impossible, trying to pretend she wasn't having the best time of her life. If she blurted that out, Elliott would likely edge away and ditch her as soon as he had the chance. But she
was
having the time of her life. Whenever she lapsed into anxious silence, Elliott filled the space between them with quiet talk about his work and the places he'd been.

Though he'd occasionally apologize for going on, Jenn had urged him to continue. She liked his voice and his work was fascinating, even when he started talking about viruses that seemed to be made up entirely of numbers and letters.

He was so calm. So steady. He didn't flirt or charm. He didn't make comments with hidden sexual overtures. He just talked.

And he asked questions about her life, too, but Jenn did her best to steer the conversation back to him. When he talked, it soothed her. Elliott didn't seem to want anything from her but company, so her heartbeat was nearly normal during these conversations.

But right now as he stared down at his feet, a frown drawing his brows together, Jenn's heart sped. He was bored or irritated or tired.

“Should we?” she asked, a self-conscious blush heating her face.

Elliott's eyes rose.

“Walk,” she stammered. “On the beach?”

“Oh, of course. Jenn, are you okay?”

She knew from the feel of her unbearably hot cheeks that she was blushing like a madwoman. The sun wasn't setting fast enough to cover up that kind of fiery-red. Damn her pale skin. “I'm fine.”

“You look—”

“I just get nervous!” She hurried off the shoulder of the narrow road, her feet wobbling a bit on the rocks that marked the line between blacktop and sand.

“Jenn,” Elliott said from close behind her.

She wanted to keep going, but when her sandals started filling with sand, she had to stop and kick them off. Elliott caught up and started to reach for
her, then shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you nervous.”

“It's not you,” she said, hiding her mortification for a few seconds by picking up her sandals and shaking them clean. “It's just talk of being on a date. I get…” Helpless to explain it, she shrugged and forced herself to meet his gaze. Jenn expected to see exasperation. Instead she saw disappointment.

Elliott cleared his throat. “Right. Would you feel more comfortable staying on the road? If you don't want this to be a real date, then—”

“But it's not a real date. Is it?”

“Jenn…I asked you out. You said yes. I thought it was a date, but if this was just about giving Chloe some space, I understand.”

“I thought you asked me out for Max's sake.”

“Max can take care of himself. I asked you out because I wanted to. But I can imagine I'm not your type.”

“You're so smart,” she said in a rush, thrown off balance by his admission.

“Yeah…my work…I'm trying to find some hobbies.”

She couldn't process that, because her heart was screaming
he likes you, he likes you,
and her mind was starting to panic at the thought. He was too smart, too serious, too good for her. She didn't de
serve somebody like him, not with the awful truths she was hiding. “Elliott, I…”

He smiled, a polite smile that didn't mask the sadness in his eyes when he stepped back to give her some space. “It's no big deal, Jenn, really.”

The extra foot of space between them seemed to remove some pressure from her skin. Too much pressure. Yes, her anxiety ratcheted down, but that relief was offset by loneliness. She was no good at relationships, but for the past few months she'd been so profoundly alone, unable to talk to Chloe and afraid to talk to Anna.

Elliott looked like he'd been alone, too. And as anxious as dating made her, she'd had
fun
with him. She'd loved it.

And watching his face shut down into a polite smile dug out a hollow feeling inside her chest.

“I'd like to walk on the beach,” she said before she could lose her nerve. “With you.”

He kept his hands in his pockets, narrowing his eyes as if he were trying to discern something from her expression.

Jenn raised her chin. “You'd better take off your shoes. It won't be very romantic if you're constantly running away from the waves.”

“Yeah…I'm not interested in a pity walk. But thanks.”

“Elliott.” She laughed, part of her anxiety falling away in the face of his discomfort. Before she could think better of it, Jenn reached out and took his hand. Nervous power zinged through her arm as she tucked her small hand into his large one. She felt his physical hesitation, but she also felt the moment when his fingers curved around hers and cradled her hand in his.

“I want to walk with you,” she said again, and when Elliott smiled, her chest exploded in butterfly wings.

They stopped talking, finally, and just walked. Long minutes later, Elliott finally stopped to slip off his shoes, and when he stood again, he turned toward her as if he had something to say. “I'm divorced.”

“Oh.” She hadn't been expecting that. “You were married?”

“I was. For a little over a year. But I wasn't a good husband.”

The words felt like a knife. “You cheated?”

“No!” He sounded shocked that she'd even suggest it, and her hurt receded to a fading shadow. “God, no. But I work too much. I spend too much time at the office. And even at home, I think about work a lot.”

“But you come home every night, right?”

“That's not enough.”

No cheating. No traveling for weeks at a time. He hardly sounded like an awful husband, but she obviously had low standards. “Well, I'm sorry you went through that. It must've been hard.”

“I just thought I should tell you.” His words were somber, as if he were offering something important.

They resumed the walk, though Elliott was quiet this time. The loss of his voice made her feel lonely again, so she reached out to take his hand.

This time, when he stopped, Elliott didn't say a word. Instead, he kissed her.

Jenn inhaled, drawing in the taste of his kiss. His mouth was the barest pressure, only a hint of heat, giving her time to adjust. Five heartbeats passed, then six. Though he'd rested a hand on her upper arm, he didn't pull her closer or tighten his grip, not until she pushed up on her toes and kissed him back.