He leans down to lave my nipple and then suck it into his mouth. Releasing my breast, he says, “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t plan on fucking you. I picked you up because I didn’t want you to step in rabbit shit and then the fucking-you part just sort of happened.”
“Oooookay,” I say again.
I push my palms against his shoulders until he leans away, his expression surprised.
I roll away from him, scrambling off the bed, snagging my dress as I go. I stand on the other side of the bed, yanking my dress on, fumbling with buttons, as he props himself on his elbows, just watching me, his massive bulk spread out on the bed. All those glorious, stupid muscles of his practically begging me to touch them.
But what the actual hell?
And because he’s still staring at me and I don’t know what to do or say and my fingers are barely working and I can only get about half of the buttons done, I say it out loud, too.
“What the actual hell, Max?”
For a second he just stares blankly at me. Like he one hundred percent does not understand why I’m upset.
“Ten minutes ago you were like, ‘I don’t want this to be like last time,’ and, ‘Oh, baby, baby, I need you more than once.’”
He’s shaking his head. “I never said, ‘Oh, baby, baby.’”
“Yeah, well, I thought it was implied. But apparently not, because, apparently, you fucked me by accident.”
Shit.
Fuck.
God damn it.
This guy has me twisted into so many damn knots I can’t even talk anymore.
Me!
I can’t talk.
Which is a fucking embarrassment.
I stomp over to the bedroom door, ready to flee.
Max scrambles out of bed after me.
He slams his hand on the door just as I go to open it.
“I think I said that wrong,” he says, planting his other hand on the other side of my head.
He’s got me caged in his arms. I turn around, pressing myself to the wall because those extra millimeters help me resist the temptation to plaster my body against his bare chest.
Again.
We all know howthatwould turn out.
“No shit, genius,” I snap. Then turn back to the door and tug on the knob.
He steps back, letting me open the door.
The second I step into the hall, Skip and Lou come barreling toward me.
I squat to give belly rubs and pets, saying, “Did this horrible man pet-nap you? Did he? Did you try to fight him off?”
“I didn’t—”
