Wished

Chapter 28

28

It’s not.

I imagine I’m still in Saint-Tropez, because while I was hoping this would be gone, in the secret place in my heart, I was wishing that it wouldn’t.

I have to admit, when Max brushes a kiss over my mouth and says in a sleep-tinged voice, “Morning, love,” there’s a traitorous leap in my heart before it sinks with the realization we’re still together and Max still isn’t himself.

Luckily, seconds after waking, Emme knocks on the third-floor bedroom door and shouts, “Can we go to the beach today? Mom said she needs rest and we should go out! Do you want to go? Yes or no?”

Max lifts himself up on his forearm and gives me a hooded look, his expression sleepy and hungry at the same time. His bare chest skims against my back and I feel his hardness pressing into me. He wore boxers to bed, I wore a nightie, and there is only a thin layer of cotton separating us. His hair is messy, his morning stubble thick and dark, and a stream of morning sun shines through the curtains, casting a golden glow over his bare skin. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat and strokes his fingers up my arm, tracing the spill of sunlight.

“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he whispers, his gaze following the steady progress of his fingers.

“Yes or no?” Emme shouts through the door.

“No,” Max growls, too quiet for Emme to hear.

“Because I really want to paint the beach! Anna? Are you awake?”

Max brushes his hand over my nipple and it peaks under the slight pressure.

“Yes,” I call, my voice a half-croak, half-gasp.

Max gives me a happy, self-satisfied grin.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” I can hear Emme bouncing up and down, her feet thudding rhythmically on the third-floor landing.

Max flips me over and executes a quick move where his legs cage mine and his arms pin me beneath him.

“Say no,” he mouths, slowly shaking his head.

A slow throb rolls through me as he settles over me. His weight is delicious. Erotic. My eyes nearly roll backward in ecstasy. Which settles it.

“Yes!” I shout.

“No,” Max says at the same time.

“What?” Emme asks.

I start to yell yes, but Max presses his mouth to mine.

“Hey!” I say, which he takes as an invitation to French, sending his tongue to quest over my lips and into my mouth.

“Anna? What?” Emme shouts.

“Yes,” I say, the sound buried under Max’s mouth.

“What!”

Max is laughing against my mouth. He’s laughing, his eyes open, staring down at me with humor as he licks me into submission.

I do the only thing left to do. I grab the nearby feather pillow and whack him over the head with it.

Max laughs again and nips my lip. So I drive the pillow into his face, smothering his laughter. He rolls off me, his shoulders shaking.

“Yes!” I call, thwapping Max with the pillow again. “We’ll be right there.”

“Yay!” Emme shouts. “I’m ready!”

Max grabs the pillow, shoves it behind him, and gives me a satisfied smile. When he drops back to the bed, he crosses his arms behind his head, displaying an impressive amount of chest and shoulders. He tilts his eyes to the ceiling, looking incredibly amused and very happy.

Then there’s the sound of Emme’s feet banging down the three flights of stairs. It sounds like an avalanche of goats tumbling down a mountain.

We wait until the sound of her feet disappears, and then Max turns to me with a wicked grin. “Five minutes?—”

“No.” I back away, shoving the sheets aside and scooting off the bed.

No sex. Can’t do it.

“Four?”

“No!”

“Ninety seconds. You know I can make you come in ninety seconds.”

Oh. Um.

That sounds ...

“No?” I say, but it comes out as a question, and Max knows it.

He gives me a confident smile and curls his pointer finger in the cutest “come here” gesture I’ve ever seen.

Oh gosh. My willpower—it’s crumbling.

Stand firm, Anna!

I grab another pillow and hold it in front of me. “No.”

Then, before Max can respond, the goat avalanche starts again, this time the pounding coming back up the stairs. Emme’s back.

The look on Max’s face is priceless. He looks like he was just told he can’t have chocolate and hazelnut ice cream for the next year. I burst out laughing.

Emme bangs on the door. “Mom said she needs help, Anna! She’s trying to make breakfast and she dropped a tray of eggs!”

“Why is she trying to make breakfast?” I call. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“’Cause she’s hungry! ’Cause her body’s tryna fix a bone!”

Max snorts. “My body’s tryna fix a bone too.”

I point a finger at him. “You. Shh.”

He gives me an unrepentant sinner smile. Unbelievable.

“Coming!” I call.

“You’re really not,” Max says, a mournful note in his voice. He sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his hips, then runs a hand through his messy hair.

“What?” Emme asks through the door.

“I’m coming!”

Max laughs again, his shoulders shaking. I throw the pillow I’m holding at him. He catches it, tosses it to the side, and says, “I wish you were coming. You could be. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Too nice.

That’s the problem.

He looks like a devil, all dark and handsome, sitting in the pristine white bed, his tempting smile illuminated beautifully by the morning sunlight. I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.

I point a finger at him, giving him a “shh” look.

Outside the door Emme bounces up and down, the floorboards squeaking impatiently. Max smiles at the sound, his face softening.

“I can’t wait to have kids with you,” he says, switching from playful to solemn. I’m nearly knocked over when I see how much he means it. “I can’t wait to meet our little girl with your heart or our little boy with your humor.”

The look on his face scares me. It’s that bowled-over-by-love look. The look that says he’s so deep in love he’ll never pull himself out of it.

“Anna?” Emme calls, saving me from responding.

I give Max an apologetic smile and practically sprint out the door.