Chapter 12

Max rose from his knees and bent over her, giving her a slow, tender kiss. Her taste on his lips started her quivering all over again. He gentled her with long slow strokes along her arms and shoulders. With kisses from her throat over her breasts to her navel. And finally, one very tender kiss on her silky pubic curls.

When he rose to his feet and pulled his sweater over his head, Stacy almost cried at the perfection of him. He possessed a true athlete's physique, with broad shoulders, a defined six-pack, and sculptured muscles along his arms. Dark hair scattered over his chest, arrowing down to disappear into the waistband of slacks resting on narrow hips. Just looking at him was enough to make her mouth water. How had she never realized what a hunk Max was before?

His eyes, hot and hungry, burned into hers as he stripped off his slacks and boxer briefs. Her gaze drew at once to his cock, rising long and thick from a tight nest of curls, and she began to shake with need again.

"I think I need to lose the skirt," she said in a weak voice.

"Actually, it kind of turns me on. You all naked, wearing nothing but that flippy little skirt." He bent over her, arms caging her on either side. "I think I want to fuck you with that skirt on, sugar."

She wanted to tell him to get on with it, but her breath stalled in her lungs. Erotic images of the two of them danced in her mind. Finally, she got her tongue unstuck from the roof of her mouth.

"Yes." Barely a whisper. "I want that, too."

She pushed on his shoulders and sat up, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his shaft. When she would have stroked him, he folded his own hand over hers.

"After," he told her between gritted teeth.

"After? After what?"

"After I slide inside you and fill that sweet pussy of yours." The heat in his eyes could have scorched her skin.

"Then do it," she told him.

Fumbling for his slacks, he dug a condom from his wallet and ripped the foil open with his teeth. His gaze focused tightly on her as he rolled the latex in place. It excited her to see his hands tremble.

"Now," he said, moving over her.

Lifting her legs, he braced them on his shoulders and opened the lips of her sex with his thumbs. His breath hissed through his teeth as he stared at her. Nudging her opening with the head of his cock, he gradually inched it inside her. Stacy would have closed her eyes to let sensation wash over her, but she couldn't drag her gaze away from his. Little by little, he filled her, stretching her tissues until the thick head bumped against the mouth of her womb.

Oh, God!

"You feel so fucking good," he rasped.

"You…too," she managed to gasp.

He lowered his head and took one taut nipple into his mouth, the sensation pulling all the way to her pussy. When he grazed the sensitive flesh with his teeth, electricity zapped her, firing every nerve in her body. As he laved and sucked, he moved unhurriedly in and out of the wet clasp of her flesh. Everything else faded away except the hot connection of their bodies, his heavy penis filling every inch of her and the heat of his mouth on her.

In slow increments, he increased his pace, his hips moving as he thrust in and out of her. With each drag of his shaft along her inner walls, he touched her hot spot, sending shivers of need dancing through her. Lifting his head from her breasts, he looked hard into her eyes. What she saw in his gaze was as potent as his movements—need, hunger, desire, and some emotion she was too aroused to even think of identifying.

"Ride with me, sugar," he rumbled, his voice unsteady.

And then, he took them both up the cliff, hips pistoning, cock driving hard into her, his balls slapping against the cheeks of her ass. Again. Harder. More. Faster.

The climax swept over her with sudden intensity, spinning her into black velvet space, every bit of her in the grip of spasms threatening to shatter her. She was vaguely aware of the shudders subsiding, of Max gently lowering her legs and easing himself from her cunt. When he moved away from her, she wanted to cry out, beg him to come back. And then he did, shifting her on the bed so he could lie down beside her and curl her into him.

Her heart still pounded, his thudding against her back, his ragged panting a counterpoint to her own. They were both damp with perspiration, but Stacy didn't care. She could have stayed with Max's strong arms around her, his athlete's body curved around hers, for a very long time.

At some point, her breathing evened out, her heartbeat steadied, and her brain kicked into gear.

Ohmigod! I've had sex with Max Sullivan! My best friend! Ohmigod!

Not to mention that "incredible" barely described what had just happened. What was going on here? What started out as a game was turning into something much more intense, and Stacy didn't know if she was ready for it.

Max tucked the damp strands of her hair behind her ear and nibbled tenderly on the lobe.

"No thinking," he murmured, his breath feathery against her skin. "Thinking not allowed today."

"But what—?"

"Spontaneous, remember?"

His hand drifted lazily along her arm, down the curve of her hip, over to her tummy, and up to cup one breast with his palm.

She gave a breathy little laugh. "Spontaneous, all right. Spontaneous combustion."

"Why thank you, sugar." He bit down lightly on her shoulder. "For me, too."

"Max?"

"Yeah?" He traced lazy circles with his tongue over the spot where he'd taken the little bite.

"What are we doing here, anyway?"

He chuckled softly. "If you have to ask, then I'm doing it wrong."

"No, idiot. You know what I mean. Us. You and me. Friends." She let out a slow breath. "Is…is what we did part of the plan?"

Max weighed his words carefully. Whatever he said next would either make or break the situation. After three painfully long years, he finally had Stacy right where he wanted her—in bed, in his arms. And, hopefully, in his life as much more than just best friends. He'd known they'd be explosive together, yet, not in his wildest dreams had he imagined how all-consuming, soul-shredding sex with Stacy Halligan could be. If he made a mistake here, said or did the wrong thing, it would all go up in smoke, and his plan to make her his forever would disappear.

"Max?"

He realized she still waited for an answer from him.

"It's definitely part of the bigger picture, Stacy. Will I scare you away, ruin the big Valentine's Day game plan if I tell you I've wanted this forever? With you?"

"Sex?" She tensed in his arms. "Is that what this is about?"

"Not even a little." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Well, maybe a little. But what's happening here is so much more." He continued stroking her body lightly, teasing her nipples and drifting his hand down to brush the softness of her pubic curls.

"I can't think when you do that," she told him.

"That's the idea." He nipped her earlobe again. "Sure, I want to do anything for you to wipe away the pain the jerks like Kurt have caused you, raise your profile with the ditsy females where you work. But, Stace, I've wanted to take our relationship to a different place for a long time. I saw a chance here to convince you we could be together."

She was silent for so long, his nerves began to do a jittery dance.

"Stacy?"

"I-I never thought of us that way. Besides, I know the kind of women you hang out with. I'm not even in the same ballpark."

"Window dressing." He pulled her tighter against him. "I never wanted all those shiny pennies the other guys go for. I want someone real. Like you. So…what do you say? Can we see if what's happening really works between us?"

Again she took her time answering. He simply kept stroking her body, trying to convey to her how he felt.

"What if…what if it doesn't work? What if we crash and burn? What if we end up hating each other? I don't think I could handle that."

"I don't believe that will happen. I think we'll have a happy ending. I'm counting on it. So, let me suggest something. Let's follow my Valentine's Day game plan. If after February fourteenth we discover the spark—make that bonfire—burns itself out and we decide we're not good couple material, I promise we'll go back to being best friends." My ass.

"Really? We could do that?"

"I will never do anything to hurt you, Stacy. If we mutually agree what we started here won't go anywhere, I'll make sure our friendship is still intact."

He wanted to scream while he waited for her answer, but he reined in his impatience.

"Okay," she said at last. Then she wiggled her ass against him, doing dangerously arousing things to his semi-hard cock. "Let's go for it." She turned her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. "The sex is really good, you know."

Max laughed. "I take that as the highest compliment."

"Only no football fannies," she warned. "We're exclusive."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." His mind eased, at least for the moment, he shifted her in his arms so they were facing each other. "I think it's time to open that wine Josie was kind enough to pack for us, don't you?"

"I can definitely get on board with that."

He uncorked the wine and poured it into the two crystal glasses from the basket, then touched his glass to hers. "To Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day," she smiled.

Max dragged his gaze away from Stacy's mouthwatering nude body long enough to remind himself he needed to carefully design the next step in the game plan. He had never played a game he was more determined to win.