Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 20

But he couldn't help running his hand over the curve of her a.s.s a couple of times before he made himself move his hands. He unzipped his own jeans, fishing a condom out of his wallet before shoving them and his boxers down his legs. He was achingly hard, and if this was really the way he wanted it to be, he'd have Bree's hot little hands wrapped around his length. And her mouth. For sure. He'd have her on her knees for at least a few minutes. But wanting it so badly was all the more reason to keep this to s.e.x for release only.

He moved his hand between her legs, stroking over her c.l.i.t and slick folds before easing two fingers into her again. "You ready for me?"

"So ready," she breathed.

He had to agree when he felt the wet heat waiting for him. He moved in, positioning himself at her entrance. For just a millisecond he hated that this was the way it was going to be the first time. The only time. He wanted to see her face; he wanted to tell her all the things she made him feel. But this was s.e.x. Only s.e.x. If she needed a release, he'd give her that release. And afterward, when she realized that was really all she'd wanted, she'd stop all this talk about romance and anything long term.

He gripped her hips, banishing the regrets from his mind and heart, and thrust forward, burying himself in her.

She did cry out then, and Max had to grit his teeth to keep from pounding on ahead without letting her adjust.

"Oh my G.o.d, you're amazing," she gasped, her fingers gripping the bricks in front of her.

Amazing. Yeah. He f.u.c.king was.

He pulled out, then surged forward again, stroking deep and relishing the feel of her tight, hot body around him. It was so d.a.m.ned good. Even just this much. Even without everything else.

He'd been right to stay away from everything else.

Max reached around for a breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and finger, and moved his hips, stroking in and out again.

Bree pressed back against him, locking her elbows and seemingly pulling him even deeper into her body as she flexed her inner muscles.

Max gritted his teeth, willing himself to last, but this was going to be hard and fast. Just the way she liked things.

"Max," she moaned. "Harder."

Yep. Exactly the way she liked things. He tugged on her nipple as he picked up the pace and felt the response around his c.o.c.k.

"You feel so f.u.c.king good," he told her roughly, unable to keep completely quiet.

"You, too." She pressed back again. "So good."

"I want to feel you come, Bree," he told her, leaning in and kissing her neck, then sucking slightly.

Again, he felt her response around him. He loved this woman's body. Everything was connected to her pleasure. She was so physical in everything she did. Always had been. He was sure that she did, indeed, have an o.r.g.a.s.mic-type reaction to her skydiving jumps and crossing the finish line in races. He'd love to know how worked up he could get her with simple touches in places other than the obvious erogenous zones. He'd love to see how responsive she was to dirty talk, to the building antic.i.p.ation, to various sensations like ice cubes or feathers.

He never had experienced such a strong desire to challenge his partner.

But he knew Bree. She could take it. She'd revel in it. He wanted to push every one of her boundaries.

He wanted to wring her out.

No man had ever done that. That he did know.

No man had jumped out of an airplane with her or hiked the Grand Canyon with her, either.

Except for him. If anyone could help Bree find her s.e.xual peak, it was him.

He reached for her c.l.i.t and circled it as he picked up his rhythm. She had to come first. That was nonnegotiable.

"Bree, let go. Give it to me."

She gave a soft whimper, and he felt her muscles contract.

"That's it. That's it," he praised softly. "Let it go."

He circled faster and thrust harder, and within minutes he felt her tightening around him. She cried out, and Max let himself go. He pumped deep only three times before his release grabbed him, and he m.u.f.fled his shout against her neck.

They stood, breathing hard for almost a minute after. But Max made himself pull out and turn away. He dealt with the condom, zipped up, and washed his hands, all without looking at her. Even that would be too much right now.

He heard the rustling of her clothes and was thankful that she'd be dressed when he did finally face her. But when he did meet her eyes, he realized it wasn't her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s that would send him to his knees.

Those eyes. That smile.

He wanted her again.

In that moment, everything in him wanted her. Still. Even more than he had before.

He wanted to start all over again, and this time tell her everything he loved about her as he touched every inch of her body, worshipped her from head to toe.

He was sure she could see everything he was feeling on his face.

Her smile softened, and she took a step toward him.

One step. And everything in him felt like he'd been shot with electricity.

This was Bree. How had he thought for even a second that he could do this and walk away unchanged? Max opened his mouth to say . . . something. Just as her phone rang.

Still watching him, she answered it. "This is Bree."

She ran a hand through her hair, giving Max a strange surge of satisfaction for being the one who'd messed it up.

"Hey, Avery," Bree said.

Max frowned. Typically a call from one of her girlfriends wouldn't be a concern, but this friend was in charge of the emergency-management efforts at the moment.

"Yep, I can come right over," Bree said in response to whatever Avery had told her. She paused again, listening. "No, it's fine. You stay there. I've got Mags."

She disconnected and licked her lips while smoothing her hands over her shirt. "Do I look okay?" She moved to check herself in the mirror over the sink.

She looked like she'd just been f.u.c.ked hard against a wall.

To him she looked amazing.

And like the biggest heartbreak of his life.

"Some of Avery's crew stopped over at Maggie Norman's house to burn the rest of the debris, but they found Maggie there, and she won't leave."

Maggie lived on the south edge of town, her place visible to everyone coming into town on Highway 7. There was very little of her house left. "Maggie is there?" Max asked.

Bree nodded and turned to face him with a grin. "She told the guys that if they made her leave, she was going to tell all their mothers on them."

Max smiled. He was certain Maggie meant it, too. "Want me to come along?" He didn't really want to. He needed some s.p.a.ce from Bree. He needed to review all the reasons he should not press her up against the wall again right now and kiss her until her knees buckled.

But d.a.m.n, he liked being able to make her knees buckle.

The image of her sagging against the wall to hold herself up as he tasted her flashed through his mind. Bree McDermott had done a lot of amazing things over the years that had made that gorgeous body of hers feel good. Knowing that he could take control and give her pleasure that made her weak and forget where she was for a little bit felt d.a.m.ned good. Too good.

He was a smart guy. In spite of that, he lifted a hand and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her breath caught, and he loved that, too. She lifted on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

"I don't want to go, you know," she said.

But he needed her to go, because even that tiny lip-lock made him want a million more-over coffee in the morning, on their way out the door to work, when he walked in the door at night, when they said good night. Every d.a.m.ned time anything good, or bad, happened in his life.

"But I've got this," she said, settling back onto her feet. Her lips were still a little puffy, her shirt was wrinkled, and d.a.m.n if she didn't have a slight glow about her. None of those things had been there before.

She definitely looked like she'd been f.u.c.ked well.

And then she was gone, the door b.u.mping shut behind her.

He sighed. He should have been relieved, but instead, he thought it was appropriate that he felt like the one who was totally f.u.c.ked.

The house had been completely leveled. As was the bizarre way of tornadoes, the roof and every wall was gone, but the fireplace still stood. So did the two recliners and the small end table and lamp that had sat between them for four decades.

"Hey, Mags," Bree said, stepping over several pieces of wood and drywall onto the pale-blue carpet that Maggie had likely vacuumed the morning of the tornado.

"Hi, Bree." Maggie sat in her dusty, overstuffed rose-colored recliner. Knitting. "I'd offer you some coffee, but I'm out. Oh, and my kitchen is gone."

Bree dropped into the navy-blue recliner that Maggie's husband, Gene, had sat in every night until he'd pa.s.sed away last year. "Well, good thing I had an extra-large this morning," Bree told her.

Maggie chuckled lightly at that.

Bree leaned back and pulled the lever to recline the chair, propping up her feet. She linked her hands on her stomach. "Mags?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing here? We thought you were staying with your daughter in Sapphire Falls."

"I'm finishing this baby blanket."

Bree looked over. "Your knitting stuff was all still here?"

Maggie nodded and continued knitting.

Bree shook her head. "Tornadoes are crazy."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Maggie's needles clicking together as a soft breeze ruffled Bree's hair and birds chirped. It was actually pretty relaxing.

Bree's thoughts started to wander to Max and what had happened just before Avery's call, but she shut them down. When she thought about it again, she wanted to really be able to replay every detail in full Technicolor. Finally, Bree said, "You can't stay here, Maggie. You'll get really wet the next time it rains."

Maggie nodded. "I won't be here when it rains again."

Bree looked over quickly. "You mean you won't be here in the house, right?"

Maggie laughed again. "Right. There's going to be too many mosquitoes with all of my window screens missing."

Bree gave a little snort. The missing screens would definitely be a problem. Not to mention all the windows. And the walls.

"So you're here now to . . ." Bree trailed off for Maggie to fill in.

"Finish this blanket. Look at my fireplace one more time. Sit in my chair in front of the fireplace one more time."

Bree sighed. She hated that so many of the people she knew were going through this same stuff. Tornadoes sucked. "I'm sorry, Maggie. I'll definitely get some of the guys to take your chairs and table and stuff to your daughter's."

Maggie shook her head. "I don't want to sit in this chair anywhere else."

"But-"

"I'll get a new chair. And I'll make great memories in that chair, too-reading new books, knitting new blankets, watching new TV shows, holding my grandkids. I just needed to do all of this one more time, knowing it was the last time."

Bree traced her finger along the seam on the arm of Gene's old chair. "Why is it important to know it's the last time?" she asked gently. Kit would have been proud.

"Because I didn't know it was the last time I made Gene breakfast," Maggie said.

Bree put the foot of the chair down and turned slightly on her seat. "What do you mean?"

"The day he had his heart attack, I made him scrambled eggs. If I'd known it was the last breakfast, I would have made caramel French toast. His favorite."

Bree felt her heart clench. "Oh, Mags."

"I know. It's silly. It doesn't matter. But that's been bugging me for a year. Now this . . . I knew I'd need to downsize eventually. I knew this house was too big for me. But dammit, I wanted to decide when it would be the last time I knitted in this chair in this room." Maggie clenched her hands, bunching the yarn in her fists.

Bree wished Kit were here now. "I don't know what to say," she told the other woman honestly. "I get it. I really do. This all really sucks."

Maggie looked over, making eye contact for the first time. She gave Bree a smile. "Yeah, it does suck."

"I wish I could make it better."

"Well, sweetie, you can." Maggie's hands relaxed.

"I can?" Bree really wanted that to be true. "How?"

"I decided that I was going to come back and finish this blanket in this chair in front of this fireplace before the house was completely gone. And you're not going to drag me out of here before I'm done."

Bree felt relief go through her. Something she could do. Thank G.o.d. Bree leaned back and pulled the recliner lever again. "Knit slowly. I could use a break."

Maggie picked up her needles and started again.