Hookup by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-12-09T16:26:35+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maple

#morningafter #oops #thiscouldwork

SUNLIGHT POURS INTO the room, tap-dancing on my eyeballs and working its way beneath my skin. I stretch into the warmth because I’m surprisingly cold. Maybe the landlord finally fixed my AC? There’s a second sun pressed up against my leg and over my rib cage. No. Wait. Not a sun but a someone. Last night’s memories filter back slowly, one moment at a time, like water dripped from a tap. The town car. Max’s party. Our private party on the beach. And maybe something more. When he’d touched me it had been a dare and a challenge and part of me had decided to take him up on it. I didn’t care then that he was a player and a rich guy, someone with whom I had absolutely nothing in common. I didn’t care that we’d fuck and move on and that I’d probably regret his passing out of my life even though that was stupid. Maybe. Or maybe we’d meet, in weeks, in months, in years to come and the thought would just flicker through the back of my head: I know what he looks like naked. A quick sliver-shiver of a thought like fish in a stream, here and then gone.

I open my eyes without really intending to and there he is.

Eyes closed, lashes brushing the tender skin beneath his eyes. I have no idea what I thought would happen, but thinking clearly wasn’t part of last night’s plan anyhow. Max breathes deeply, and I let my gaze roam over his face. His lips part slightly, dark stubble roughening the line of his jaw and cheek. Awake, he’s always so focused and intent, but asleep he seems softer and somehow vulnerable. My eyes drift over his face, seizing this chance to commit him to heart. He’s the same Max who invited me over, who took me down to the beach, who licked my neck until I came. The only thing different is that now I don’t have to imagine him naked—or mostly naked. Max likes specifics and I still haven’t seen his penis.

He’s sprawled on his side, one leg over mine, an arm draped over my ribs. My temporary dark-haired Adonis. At some point between the beach and bed, he’s lost his shirt. Broad, capable shoulders crowd out the morning sunlight. His chest is muscled and lightly dusted with dark hair, narrowing to a delicious six-pack that demands my attention.

There are no visible tattoos, no jewelry, just almost-naked Max in a pair of ordinary red plaid boxers. I think I’d like him even better all naked. He’s pretty much the hottest man I’ve ever ogled, let alone shared a bed with.

I don’t think we had sex last night.

Mistake. I run a questing finger over his hip. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of him since I barged into his office. That was weeks ago. It wasn’t romantic or sexy or even remotely hookup-y. But then he started texting and I answered and now here we are.

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