Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 19

He didn't want to be single for the rest of his life. He really didn't. He wanted the family, the kids and wife, and everything that went with that.

"We've already tried that once," he said. "If you remember."

She met his eyes again. "Of course I remember. And I know it didn't work. But that was a long time ago. I was just a kid."

The annoyance grew. "Dammit, Bree."

"What?" she asked.

"Only you would get h.o.r.n.y almost falling through a ceiling."

She looked up, then back at him. "That didn't make me h.o.r.n.y."

"You're not h.o.r.n.y right now?"

"No."

"You're not feeling the same way you did in the ditch and in Colorado and after climbing around in the barn? Don't you think it's interesting that the only times you want to get close to me are following a big scare like that?"

"That is not what I'm saying," she said, her brows pulling together. "I want more than what we have now. I want more than s.e.x. With you. I want to try all this romantic stuff that you want."

"Bulls.h.i.t."

That startled her. "Bulls.h.i.t?"

"You're wound up because of the job you did up there, then the fall. The adrenaline is coursing again, and I just happen to be the guy standing next to you when you need an outlet for it."

"That is not what this is," she insisted. "This is about you catching me. And the fifty-pounds thing. And the polliwogs. And the fact that you trusted me today, and we worked together. That's what's making me want to kiss you, not the fall."

Nope. He wasn't going to let his heart believe any of this.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the hallway.

"You're limping."

He gritted his teeth. He was. He never limped. Until the morning after a day with Bree. Considering the way the last week had gone, he was surprised he could move at all.

He stopped at the first door-the boys' locker room.

He yanked the door open and pushed her inside. He stepped through and turned the lock that only the janitor and coach's keys would open. Neither of them was here today.

Then he backed her up against the wall.

"What are you doing?" She was breathless, and her eyes were wide-with excitement.

G.o.d, he knew her so well.

"Proving that you are h.o.r.n.y right now. This isn't about romance, Bree. This is all about hormones and adrenaline, and you're a junkie on a high saying things you don't mean."

"I am not-"

He slid his hand under the edge of her T-shirt and then slid it up and over her head, leaving her in a plain white bra.

Her nipples were hard, poking against the white cotton, and he could already feel the firmness on his tongue. He met her gaze as he reached behind her and flicked open the tiny hooks. She sucked in a quick breath as he dragged the bra down her arms and dropped it beside them.

"You're telling me your nipples got hard from thinking about polliwogs?" he asked.

She wet her lips. "Max-"

Before she could finish whatever that was going to be, he pulled open the b.u.t.ton at the top of her jeans, lowered the zipper, and pushed the denim to the floor.

She gasped again as he ran a hand over the front of her white cotton panties with the black polka dots.

"And you're telling me that you're not wet right now? That if I slid my fingers inside your panties, I wouldn't find you hot and sweet and dripping?"

Bree let her head fall back against the wall behind her. "Well, now I am."

"This isn't about me or any romantic feelings, Bree," he said, moving in to put his mouth against hers. "This is your body's reaction to excitement-no matter the cause."

"No."

She tried to shake her head, but Max had gone too far to stop. He captured her lips in a searing kiss that he felt vibrate through his body. She was hot and wet, right under his fingers, only a thin layer of cotton between him and her sweetness, and at the moment he didn't care why she was wound up, only that she was.

Her tongue met his stroke for stroke, and her hands went up to cup the back of his head, holding him close.

Max slipped his thumbs into the top of her panties and slid them to her ankles, letting them bunch at the top of her jeans. Her work boots would be too much trouble to remove. But he didn't need them completely off.

He ran his hand up the side of her thigh, then around to her bare mound. Hot. She practically burned his hand as she arched into his palm. He wasted no time sliding his middle finger into her slick heat and absorbing the part gasp, part moan that elicited.

Bree's fingers dug into his scalp as he brushed his thumb over her c.l.i.t, feeling the point pulsing against him.

He tore his mouth away, leaning back to look at her face as he slid his finger in and out.

"Max."

The soft whimper almost undid him.

"I can help you get rid of all this pent-up energy, Bree," he told her gruffly. "But no more thinking it's anything more than your sweet little body bottling up all the rushing adrenaline and excitement, okay? No more talking about romance, or you and me doing anything more than this."

Max acknowledged-to himself only, of course-that touching her like this was not purely altruistic. He had some pent-up emotions of his own that he needed to let loose somehow. And he was pretty d.a.m.ned close to mistaking his wound-up feelings of desire and worry and affection for Bree as something more as well.

This would help them both get perspective.

As soon as he helped her out here with an o.r.g.a.s.m, she'd settle down and stop talking about romance. As soon as he let off some steam, he'd stop thinking that o.r.g.a.s.ms had changed anything between them.

"No, Max, it's-"

He pressed over her c.l.i.t again, and her eyes closed as she gave a long moan.

"You're turned on by all the excitement of the day, not by me," he told her. He hated that more than a little, but it was important they both realize the truth.

Her head rolled back and forth against the wall, but her eyes didn't open, and she wasn't able to form words.

He did like that.

The adrenaline might have turned her on, but right now it was his hand making her feel this way.

He reached up and cupped a breast, rubbing a thumb over the tip as he did the same to her c.l.i.t with the other hand.

She arched closer. "Max."

He loved hearing his name from her lips like that.

"I want you. I want more," she said huskily.

He looked from his hand on her body to her face. He knew she wanted him. In this moment, in this exact situation. Her body was craving something he could easily give her.

He held her gaze as he went to his knees. "Whatever you say, Bree." Then he put his mouth against her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned in, and when he swiped his tongue over her, she gripped his hair hard. He smiled before he licked again. He'd known she'd be incredibly responsive. She was probably going to get really loud, too. Bree was the type of woman to tell him exactly what she wanted, where, how hard. He loved that. He hadn't let himself think about Bree this way, but if he had, he would have pegged her as a woman who was a full, equal partic.i.p.ant in every way. She'd tell him what she liked, and she'd give as good as she got.

She couldn't spread her legs very far with her jeans around her ankles, but he did move her feet a little farther apart. Then he returned his tongue to her c.l.i.t and slid a finger inside her, pumping deep.

"Oh my G.o.d," she whispered above him.

"Let it out, Bree. Tell me what you want, what you're feeling." The acoustics in here, with the cement floor and walls, would be amazing when she shouted his name nice and loud.

"I just . . . more," she said softly.

He paused and looked up. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, and she looked completely overcome.

Not exactly what he'd been expecting.

"What do you like?" he asked. "Faster? Harder?"

"Yes. I don't know. Anything."

He nipped the soft skin on her inner thigh, causing her to gasp, then he dragged his tongue up her thigh and licked over her c.l.i.t. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair. He sucked on the sweet nub, and her knees wobbled.

"Talk to me, Bree." She was a talker. Always. He never had to wonder what she was thinking or feeling. There were lots of shouts and h.e.l.l yeahs and whooping that went on when they climbed and jumped and raced. He wanted some of those now. He wanted to know that he could make her feel like falling out of a plane did.

"I just can't," she said, her voice completely breathless. "Keep going."

He licked and sucked again and waited, but when he stopped, she was still leaning against the wall as if it were all that was holding her up, and apparently turning it all over to Max.

With a frown, he rose. He took her chin between his thumb and finger. "Bree, look at me."

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Tell me what you want."

She said nothing for several seconds, then she shook her head. "I can't."

His frown deepened. "Why not?"

"Because you might stop. I want this your way."

"Might stop? My way? What are you talking about?"

"All I know is I'll die if you stop, so do it your way."

Heat, need, frustration, and affection all slammed into him at once.

This woman completely tangled him up.

"My way?"

"The whole slow, romantic way."

He couldn't help it-he chuckled. "I've got your pants around your ankles in the boys' locker room, Bree. Not sure this qualifies as romantic."

She gave him a sweet smile. "But it's you."

G.o.d, he wanted her. He shouldn't. It was a horrible idea. He'd regret it. But he wanted her, and he was only so strong.

At least he could keep from completely losing his mind. He wouldn't make this sweet or intimate. He wanted her legs around his waist, her eyes locked on his. He wanted to tell her all the things he loved about her. He wanted to coax her to talk, to tell him what she was feeling. He wanted to take her up and over the edge with his mouth and then his fingers before he ever sank deep.

So those were all the things he could not do.

"Turn around," he told her firmly. His voice was scratchy, but she still seemed to respond to the commanding tone. He couldn't help but make note of that.

She swallowed hard.

"Bree. Now."

She did, turning to face the white brick wall.

"Hands on the wall. Don't move them." He ran a hand appreciatively over the curve of her bare a.s.s-the a.s.s that had, indeed, been driving him wild ever since he'd let himself really notice it.

He wanted to give her a little smack and see what happened. But she'd probably like it. And then he'd have to live with that idea in his head going forward.

He'd apparently paused for too long because she started to turn to face him. He gripped her hips and didn't let her move. "Hands on the wall. Don't move them," he repeated. "And don't make me repeat myself again."

Her head dropped forward as goose b.u.mps broke out on her skin.

Max grinned in spite of himself. She liked being bossed around a little. Good to know.

No, that wasn't good to know. Dammit. He couldn't do things that would take his fantasies to a new level. Not that he didn't want her to like what he was about to do, but for him, pushing things beyond good old everybody-does-it s.e.x started to get to that intimate place he wanted too much with Bree.