I blink and just stare down at the bottle in his hands. “You’re replacing my bottle of wine?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have opened it if I’d known it was yours. This is only right.”
Overcome by the entirely unexpected gesture of humility, I cross the room, press up onto my toes, and before I can’t stop myself or second-guess it, I put my lips to his cheek. His skin smells of salt and sea and cleanliness at the same time. It’s confusing, sure—but it’s also unbelievably arousing.
Pulling away, I give my head a quick shake to clear it. “Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this wine for a long time.”
He smiles simply. “You’re welcome.”
The space is charged, and I’m completely unable to remove myself from it fully. Mack’s eyes are a bright, grassy green, and I can’t look away from them while my whole body throbs.
Goodness. This man. What is he doing to me?
Everything. Fucking everything.
His hypnotic eyes search mine, and my eyes flit down to his lips. They’re full and pink and look downright kissable. Like, if I pressed my mouth to his, I’d experience some kind of kiss euphoria that only fantasies are made of.
My gaze locks on to his again, and I don’t know what is happening or why I can’t seem to pull myself away. But I feel like Mack is the metal and I’m the magnet, and the only thing I can do is step closer. Move closer. To him.
And those lips. Those fucking lips of his. They are spurring a desire to feel them that I’m not sure I can handle. Or avoid.
For once in my life, I just want to give in to what I’m feeling without overthinking or second-guessing.
So do it. Kiss him.
Before I know it, I’m standing up on my toes again, but this time, instead of his cheek, I push the flesh of my lips against his mouth. His sharp intake of air and his strong hands gripping my waist and pulling me closer to him are the only motivation my body needs to lose every last vestige of control.
Sexual tension snaps and lightning of attraction strikes, and I swear to all that’s holy, the whole world explodes.
I want Mack Houston. And I want him bad.
This Isn’t The End…It’s Just The Beginning…
Mack
Katy’s legs wrap around my hips and her hands run the length of my jaw, and if it weren’t for the pounding, thrumming, war-drum–style heart in my chest, I might think I’m dead.
Jesus Christ, she’s really kissing me. She’s kissing me and I’m kissing her, and her ass is in my hands right this very moment.
She tastes like spaghetti and garlic bread in the most amazingly not off-putting way, and I have the sudden and irrational need to absorb her body with my own.
Is this really happening? I need something to tell me this is really happening.
Katy moans when I sweep my tongue across hers, and a jolt of arousal makes my dick come to life in my pants. She’s tiny, and with this rush of adrenaline, I feel like I could throw her right through the ceiling.
I don’t want to, of course—in fact, I want to hold on to her as tightly as possible—but if I did, I could.
“Mack,” Katy breathes, pulling her lips away from mine just long enough to let an anticipatory shiver run down the length of my spine. There’s a nervous air to her tone, and a shred of panic makes my fingertips dig into the flesh of her ass a little tighter.
“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?”
Katy smiles, leans forward to take my mouth with hers once more, and then pulls away gently. Her eyes swirl with a promise of a thrill, and I swear in this moment, I’ll never know a look as seductive as this one. “No, I don’t want to stop.”
Thank God.
“But you were going to say something… What is it?”
“Just…take me to bed.”
Okay, Mack, now is not the time to be an April fool. “I promise, Katy Cat, this is one thing you won’t have to ask for twice.”
Carrying and kissing simultaneously, I head toward the back bedroom—the bedroom we were battling over just twelve hours ago—and gently lay her back in the center of the four-poster bed. She looks dainty and beautiful in the middle of the expansive space, and I can only think of one good thing that would make her fit better. Me.
Climbing up quickly, I seal my mouth to hers again and groan in satisfaction when she lifts her hips up to meet mine, grinding to emphasize the contact. She licks her lips on a reflex, and because of our proximity, catches mine with the tip of her tongue.
“Fuckkk,” I moan, digging a hand into her hair and taking her mouth deeply. She rolls me over to my back and peels her tank top over her head, revealing perfectly perky breasts in a transparent lace bra. In one exquisite motion, the bra’s gone too, and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself as she shifts herself on my already-hard cock temptingly.
Sweet Jesus.
Our movements become frantic as she paws ferociously at my shirt, and I quickly lean up to rid myself of the fabric with a curl of my abdominal muscles. It knocks her off-balance briefly, but she uses it as an opportunity to yank her pajama shorts off, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that this has to be divine intervention from a higher power.
“Katy…y-you’re beautiful.”
She blushes, tilting the apple of her cheek toward her shoulder in a brief display of shyness. It’s beautiful, just like everything she does, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle before I let insecurity slip in and derail this beyond-perfect moment. I reach up and cup that side of her face with my hand, bringing her back toward me until our mouths meet once again.
She pulls at the button of my shorts, dislodging it easily enough so that I can reach down to my hips and shove. My hard dick pops free like a jack-in-the-box.
Trust me, there’s absolutely no question whether or not I’m enjoying the moment.
She shifts once more, swinging a leg astride me and giving me a glimpse of the promised land, and then takes my cock, places it at her opening, and slides down to seat herself. Stars dance behind my eyes, and I have to shake my head several times to stop myself from coming in a blazing glory of shock.
Katy Dayton is on my dick. My dick is officially inside both my archnemesis and my crush, Katy Dayton.
Angels sing and violins play, and my brain overworks itself into a frenzy trying to catch a single thought and hold on to it.
It’s a valiant battle, one I’m not sure I’ll win, until a tiny flit of a realization slams into my frontal cortex and holds.
I’ll always remember April Fools’ weekend as the moment my life shifted forever. And life in the classroom next door is about to be a whole lot more interesting.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Readers, new and old,
Hi! And welcome to the world of Max Monroe. As you may or may not know, keeping stories short isn’t exactly our forte. Ha-ha! As such, during the endeavor of preparing this story for this super-special and fun anthology, we kind of, sort of, accidentally fell in love with the characters and the possibilities and decided that we’re not done with them. We know, we know…that’s crazy, right? We thought so too, at first, and we tried to fight it valiantly. Alas, we couldn’t fight the call of the muse.