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Max’s breath comes out far shakier than normal. “Uh, maybe this is a bad idea.”
I bite my lip. If he says no… he can, of course. But I’ll just have to slink away, all the way to a cave and never be seen again. Or stand under a cold spray of water for an hour. Maybe put on a really long documentary about nature. Anything that can tear my mind, my heart, my soul, away from the fact that I want this boy. I crave him. And not just because I’m thirsty for him.
I want to be with Max Cassiano. For a long while.
His eyes are so intense they almost burn me. Slowly, he cradles the side of my neck in his hand and pulls me closer to him. I take it as a yes.
I lean down and kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck, under his earlobe. My lips close over it in a soft, hot pull. His skin is warm, almost feverish. I climb over the center console and squeeze myself between his chest and the steering wheel. His arms easily fall around me. Then I trail my lips lower, leaving a hot patch that makes him groan. The sound makes my chest swell with pride. I’m making the great Max Cassiano lose his composure. Who cares if I’m losing mine too?
“Happy birthday, Max,” I say with a breathless laugh.
“This is torture.” He grabs my waist. “We need to stop before I embarrass myself even more.”
My dangerously accelerated heart tells me he might have a point.
“Fine. Let’s not get arrested.” I place a butterfly-soft kiss on his nose, the innocent little gesture I should’ve stuck to for his birthday gift. “Let’s go to the pharmacy to get you patched up.”
He winces. “Sure, once my brain starts working again.”
I can’t help smiling the smug smile of a girl who knows exactly how to push her guy’s buttons and is proud.
Except, well, Max is not mine.
Obviously, he’s his own person. But I mean, he’s not my anything. We say we’re friends, but friends don’t want to devour each other like this. We’re definitely not strangers either. Or just classmates.
None of those things are what I want to be.
I bring his palm up against my cheek once more, inhaling the clean scent of his skin. I wish I could tell him. But I don’t want to make him run. Guys tend to do that when girls throw big words of affection too early.
But then he stuns me.
“I like you, Luz Rodriguez.”
I babble incoherent sounds for a moment. “You do?”
“Oh, yeah. A lot. And not only because you just kissed the lights out of me.”
Max pulls his hand away, leaving a warm spot on my face that mourns its absence. It’s not so bad, though, because he shifts the touch to one of my hands. His hand is so much bigger, rougher, with the same calluses on the palm that I have. Familiar and not at the same time.
“I like you a lot,” he whispers in the dark. “Since I first saw you.”
“Is that why you were a bit of an ass?”
A little laugh makes his shoulders shake, something I wouldn’t have thought possible fifteen minutes ago. “Yeah, I was nervous.”
I suck in air while lacing my fingers with his. “Well, look at that. Turns out I like you a lot too.”
“Since you first saw me?”
“No, it took me at least one more try.” I scrunch up my nose in fake outrage. Guess I should ask him what I really want to know, though. “Max?”
“Yeah?”
I fix my eyes on his, unwavering. “Are we a thing now?”
“If you want.” His response sounds careful.
Nervous as hell, I ask, “Do you want to be? After all, you said you’re married to hockey.” I give out an awkward laugh.
