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“Who the fuck have you been dating?” My hand curled around her leg.
Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. “I’ve dated a few guys,” she admitted, her eyes locked on the screen. “And I’ve even made out with them, but there was no…chemistry. No explosion of sparks, so I’ve only ever slept with—”
“Tequila guy?” I interrupted, my mouth dropping in shock.
She nodded and sent me a sideways glance, as if measuring my reaction. “I mean, if that was your only experience with sex would you be all about getting back on that horse? Because I haven’t been.”
I completely tuned out the argument on-screen. “No, I’d be enthusiastic about getting on a different horse. Sex isn’t supposed to be like that, at least not with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She’d called it awkward…like oatmeal. And sure, I’d had my share of awkward moments in the bedroom, but never awkward sex.
“Okay then.” She hit mute on the remote and then turned her full attention on me. “And how exactly do you know when a guy knows what he’s doing? Tell me, do you walk around with signs? Is I can get you off tattooed on your forehead somewhere?” She teased. “Because from my own personal experience, and that of…friends, I can definitely say that you don’t know what you’re getting into until…you know.” Her cheeks flushed, and she looked so flustered, so utterly kissable that I couldn’t help but push her.
“No, I don’t know, Evie,” I said.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into until he’s already into you.” She lifted her brows, as if I wouldn’t get the double entendre.
Oh, I got it. I fumbled for the right words to address her absolutely ludicrous assumption.
She looked away and pushed her glasses up her nose as that blush grew deeper.
“Evie.”
“Hmm?” She stared at the movie, the sound still completely off.
“Look at me.”
She slowly brought her gaze to meet mine.
“You’ll know if a guy knows what he’s doing way before he’s ever into you,” I said slowly, my thumb stroking down the side of her calf.
“And how am I supposed to judge that?” she challenged.
A slow smile brought up the edges of my mouth. “Because if he doesn’t get you off before reaching for his zipper, then he’s not worth it.” You’re crossing a line.
Her breath hitched and her attention flickered to my mouth. “That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“That I’m more than capable of backing up,” I assured her. It would take me ten minutes, if that, and I could have her writhing under me, her back arching as she screamed out in ecstasy. I’d tasted the passion in her, felt the undeniable chemistry between us. We’d go up like a box of fireworks. All we needed was a match.
“Well…” She dragged her tongue over her lower lip. “I’ve heard rumors that you’re pretty…capable, but all I’ve seen are some good luck kisses, so I can’t exactly speak to experience.”
A shot of pure hunger raced down my spine at her blatant challenge. Did she think I was going to back away? No way. She knew me way too well for that bullshit. I always put my money where my mouth was, and right now, I wanted that mouth on her.
Maybe it was wrong. Maybe I should have turned back to a safer topic, but here I was, staring at my little sister’s best friend—at Evie, mentally going through every way I could get her off without actual penetration.
So. Many. Ways.
This is a bad idea.
I flicked the proverbial angel off my shoulder and pivoted so quickly that she gasped, turning my body at the same time that I pushed her legs so that her knees bent, leaving the perfect space for me to settle between her thighs.
Bracing my hands on the arm of the couch, I bracketed her curls and stared down at her as I hovered, keeping my weight off her, making sure she had the space—the time to say no. She looked up at me with wide, green eyes and parted lips.
“Tell me not to show you,” I whispered.
“What?” She looked at my mouth.
My dick jumped.
“Tell me no. Tell me you don’t want me to show you how it’s supposed to feel.” It came out like a plea. “Tell me not to kiss you right now, Evie. Tell me you don’t want my hands—my mouth on you. Tell. Me. No.” I lowered my hips into the cradle of her soft thighs and bit back a groan. Fuck, she was so hot I could feel her through the layers of fabric between us. I loved that she was soft where I was hard, curved and supple in the places my body didn’t yield, and so warm against me when I’d felt cold for so very long.
“Maxim,” she whispered, her fingers curling around the back of my neck, her eyes searching mine for some kind of answer to a question I didn’t know.
