Page 204 of Claimed At First Sight

Which means he said my name because he was thinking about me while doing… that.

The rush of relief leaves me almost lightheaded. He doesn’t know I’m here.

Time to go before my luck runs out.

I hurry across his bedroom, resisting the urge to break into a full sprint until I reach the hallway. The moment I’m out of sight, restraint becomes irrelevant. I race through the penthouse in my socks, nearly lose my footing on the polished floor, and fling myself into the bathroom where I changed last night.

I slam the door, turn the lock, and lean back against it. My heart pounds frantically against my ribs.

Whether Maximo caught me spying or called my name while pleasuring himself, one thing is clear.

I’m not the only one who can’t stop thinking about what happened.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Mialina

Istrip off my clothes and step beneath the shower. I’m going to stay in here for a very long time.

Anything to avoid Maximo and having to pretend I don’t know what he was doing in the shower.

Steam gathers around me as the water runs over my head and down my body. I close my eyes, hoping the heat will loosen the mortification knotted inside me.

It’s wishful thinking. Instead, I see Maximo’s wet back and the slow movement of his arm, hear the way he moaned my name.

My eyes fly open. Perhaps I need to turn the water to ice-cold.

I reach for the shampoo and work it through my hair, forcing my thoughts back to the plan I came up with in Sicily to forget Maximo Marco’s kiss.

I was supposed to find someone else to wipe away the memory. Instead of doing exactly that, I’ve kissed the same man twice more.

Let’s face it, that plan is a spectacular failure.

I scrub harder at my scalp.

Truth be told, I don’t really want to make out with another man. At least for right now, I enjoy kissing Maximo far too much.

I like the way he holds me and gives commands that should infuriate me. The hunger in his kisses affects me just as much, especially when I can feel how hard he’s fighting not to lose control.

And somehow, through all of it, he still notices every one of my reactions.

What would it take to finally make him snap?

No, you don’t want to find out.

Whatever happens when Maximo Marco stops holding back, I’m nowhere near ready for the consequences.

I tip my head beneath the water and rinse the shampoo from my hair.

Maximo drew a very clear line this morning. He won’t touch me intimately until I’m his wife, and since that isn’t going to happen, there’s no danger of our kissing leading to anything more.

I pour conditioner into my hands and smooth it through my hair. Reaching for the shower gel bottle, I freeze mid-motion.

That is the solution.

If I kiss Maximo often enough, the novelty will wear off. Anything becomes less appealing through excessive repetition.

Listen to the same song a hundred times, and eventually you start skipping it. Eat the same meal every day, and sooner or later you’ll never want to see it again.