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He pulls me close. “What’s
a little kiss between friends? I’ve kissed Nat a hundred times before. Now it’s your turn. Don’t be such a baby.”
Heart racing, I swallow hard and state weakly, “I’m not kissing you.”
Lowering his face to mine, he orders, “Pucker up, cupcake. I’m coming in.”
I open my mouth to argue, but my argument dies in my throat as Max’s lips cover mine in a warm, sweet, tame kiss.
Damn it to heck. So this is what this feels like, huh?
My eyes flutter closed and my foot lifts off the ground, toes curling. I feel this kiss. I feel it from head to toe. Warmth spreads throughout my suddenly weak body, and this kiss is nothing. I know the difference between this kiss and a hot kiss, and my insides die a little at the simple fact that if this were a tame kiss, his real kisses would be explosive.
It lasts no more than a few seconds, although from the way my head becomes woozy, it feels like hours. When he pulls away smiling, I have to hold his tank tight to stop myself from falling over. He wraps an arm around my waist and walks me forward, sighing as though the kiss was no big deal. “It’s a good day to be alive, cupcake. I told you you’d be perfect.”
Mouth drier than the Sahara, I mutter a hoarse, “I need water.”
He walks me along. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. Hell, I’d just about give you whatever you asked for right now. I owe you big time.”
My mind still offline, I lift my fingertips to my mouth, absently muttering, “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. Lips to my temple, he states, “You better get used to affection, Lena. I’m an affectionate guy, and when I want to give it, I give it good.” His warm lips gently kiss my temple, and without meaning to, I lean into it. He adds, “We’re friends now. I’m going to hug you and I’m going to kiss you. Don’t worry,” he utters confidently. “You’ll get used to it.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, dipshit.
Suddenly, Max stops mid-step. “Oh shit.”
His arms go rigid around me. I lift a hand to his chest. “What’s wrong?”
Wrapping me in a bear hug, he whispers into my ear, “See that chick over there, in the red?” When I go to move my entire body, he whispers a rushed, “Don’t look!”
I hiss, “You told me to look!”
I feel the panic come off of him. “Okay. Look discreetly.”
So I do, from the very corner of my eye. A tall, slim redhead stands there in the fruit and vegetable section, holding a stick of celery. She’s glaring at us.
Uh oh. My body droops into his. “Max, she’s pissed.”
He pulls me closer, hands roaming over my body. His face falls into my neck. “I know. I told her I didn’t want to go out with her and she got mad.”
My body stiffens. “Are you using me right now to put on a show?”
He presses his nose to my throat and breathes me in. The dirtbag. “You smell good.”
Not in the mood for games, I turn and bite his earlobe. He yelps then sighs, “Okay, okay. She may have said I led her on.”
I lift my head and bark a humorless laugh. “Let me guess. The flirting?”
He pulls back and his golden eyes flash as he fiercely glares down at me. “I’m single. I’m allowed to flirt, so sue me. I like to flirt.”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter under my breath, “With everyone but me.”
His large hands grip my waist tight, his eyes now pleading. “Help. Please.”
In my peripheral vision, I see the redhead come closer. I whisper, “She’s coming.”
His lips hit my cheek. His sweet, minty breath warms me as he whispers against my skin, “Please, please, please, please, please.”
