Page 136 of Catch the Sun

My pulse jackknifes.

Text me any time. I’ll be here, Sunny.

My face crumples in a mess of tears as I scramble for my cell phone, nearly knocking it off my nightstand. I don’t think as I pull up his name and type out a quick, frantic text message.

Me:Come over. Please.

There’s no way he’s awake. It’s after 2:00 a.m.

I drag my fingers through my hair and slump forward, trying to steady my breathing. And to my surprise, my phone dings a few seconds later.

Max:Two minutes

I left my window open again, which isn’t smart. McKay still lives across the street from me, despite the fact I haven’t laid eyes on him since I’ve been back. I’m making it so easy for him to slip inside my bedroom and take care of his unfinished business. To bury his secret for good.

All I have is a baseball bat hiding underneath the bed, even though it won’tdo much if I’m ambushed in my sleep.

But it’s not McKay who widens the window two minutes later. It’s Max. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a fitted white tee as one leg slides into the room, followed by the other.

My back is to the bed frame, my knees drawn to my chest. I’m still shaky and out of sorts, the dream fresh in my mind. “Max,” I say, voice torn.

He stands there for a few beats, staring at me through the wall of darkness, his arms hanging at his sides. His fingers clench and splay like he doesn’t know if he should reach for me or not.

I make it easy for him. I lift my hand and hold it out, a silent plea for comfort.

Max crawls in my bed, those strong, safe arms wrapping around me and pulling me close.

Relief. Reprieve. Completion.

A ragged sigh spills out of both of us when I bury my face against his chest and breathe him in. Clean, earthy familiarity. A trace of smoke. Woods and pine. Max nuzzles his nose in my hair, his hand curling behind my head, gentle against my incision scar—a purplish zigzag across the back of my skull. A few inches of new hair growth sprout around it that he lightly skims with his fingers. He goes to speak, but I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing to say.

I lean up and find his mouth instead, severing his words.

Max goes still, freezing against me as our lips fuse together. I’m not hesitant or soft. My tongue thrusts into his open mouth and his breath hitches at the contact, startled. Uncertain.

Pulling back on a sharp exhale, he cradles my face between his hands and frowns. “Ella…”

No talking.

No words.

My eyes are wild as they skim over his beautiful, staggered face.

I kiss him again.

I lift my leg and curl it around his waist, yanking him fully against me as my tongue plunders his mouth and we both groan. His tongue slides against mine, hesitation dissolving, the kiss turning feral and all-consuming. His hands glideto my neck, thumbs pressed to my jaw as he tugs it down and opens me wider.Our tongues become a desperate tangle. A hungry, wet dance. Moans bleed together as our faces slant, searching for more places we can reach and taste. It’s been too long. Months without his kisses have left me starved.

I reach down and tug my shorts off my hips, my underwear following. Without breaking the kiss, I snatch one of his hands and drag it lower until his palm is pressed between my thighs. His tongue stops moving as he shudders on a groan, paralyzed.

I’m soaking wet.

His fingers disappear inside me, plunging deep and fast, the sound of my need a slippery echo in the quiet room.

But it’s not enough. I need more.

“Condom,” I whisper breathlessly, pulling away from his thoroughly kissed lips.

Max drags his fingers out of me, rubbing me until I jerk forward. “I didn’t bring any,” he says.

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