Page 29 of Defensive Zone

His hair fell around his face, and she itched to reach up and thread her fingers through it. His eyes sparked with heat as he looked down at her. She took in a shuddering breath. Then he smirked and the flutters picked up in her belly. He leaned over her, getting closer, his body pressing hers deeper into the mattress, and she struggled to say anything besides his name.

Max.

It was a whispered plea.

And then his lips were on hers. His fingers were tracing down her curves, and his tongue was darting into her mouth.

She shifted her hips to assuage the ache between her thighs. His hard cock pressed into her, and she wished there were no clothes between them.

He rocked against her body, and she kissed him back with everything she had.

Her fingers sank into his hair, holding his face to hers.

“Gabi,” he moaned against her mouth.

A buzzing invaded the space, drawing her attention from Max. Then he started to fade away.

Beep. Beep.

Gabi pulled the pillow over her head.

Son of a bitch. She needed to stop having sex dreams about Max.

Why the hell was she having sex dreams about him anyway? He was maddening. And irritating.

And hot.

Fine. He was ridiculously hot, and every day it was getting worse.

That brief flare of vulnerability the other night when she’d called him out about his constant teasing with Ava had ramped up her stupid thoughts and dreams about him.

Ugh.

Maybe she should smother herself with her pillow.

Instead, she cuddled deeper into the best mattress she’d ever slept on and tried to think of other things, like how much she wanted crepes like the ones her mom made. She missed her mom. They might not have the best relationship because her mother questioned Gabi’s career and life choices, but she was still her mom and Gabi missed her. She should call her soon.

She made a list—internally—of what she was going to do today with the kids. Connor wanted to go to the park and finally get to the top of one of the climbing structures. It reminded her that Max had said the Strikers had helped build a playground last year.

And there he was again. With his stupid, sometimes toothless smile—that should make him not hot—and his warm eyes that were always filled with humor.

It was truly annoying.

She shoved the covers back and stomped into the shower.

Where she did not think about him at all.

She. Did. Not.

She wondered where that Harry Potter tattoo was on his body. She’d probably be able to see it if they were in the shower together.

Son.

Of.

A.

Bitch.

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