Page 88 of Catching Trouble
CHLOE
Maxime widened his eyes the second he saw me. I’d knocked so softly, he probably thought a family of mice had moved in.
Standing in the doorway, his silk pyjama bottoms were low on his hips, and his olive skin looked even darker in the soft glow of the lamp behind him.
Emotions played across his face—none I could name—then he slowly blinked before meeting my gaze. “Chloe. You shouldn’t be here.”
I knew that already. But nothing, not even the thickest dam wall, could’ve kept me away.
I can’t sleep,” I whispered, holding out my glass of water. “Consider this a peace offering. A temporary suspension of our no-touching clause.
His eyes flickered, dragging over my features, then down my body. Desire flashed across his face, and just knowing how I made him feel filled my heart with hope.
Reaching out, I ran the glass of cold water down the inside of his arm, placing it in his hand. “I don’t want to wait. If youtell me to go, I will. But just being this close, knowing you’re here, and I’m outside. It’s driving me insane.”
As if just realising I was standing at his door half naked, he tugged me inside. Not harshly, but every single nerve ending in my body stood to attention.
He placed the glass on the chest of drawers beside the door before easing it shut. The second the mechanism gave a gentle click, Maxime pulled me closer, kissing down my neck and over my shoulder. He ran his warm hands over my arms, like he was checking to make sure I was real. When he came to my bunched fist, he stopped.
Lifting it up between our bodies, he peeled open my fingers.
“What’s…?”
As soon as he realised what was in my palm, he blinked, then brought his gaze to mine.
I shrugged, my heart beating like a bass drum in my chest. “I think I might need some more help with my knots.”
Maxime’s expression darkened, and he stared at me like he was stealing my very soul.My blood pounded in my ears. It felt like my ribs might crack from the pull of breath in my chest.
He took the twine, passing it through his fingers. “Is this what you want?”
I swallowed. Holy crap, was it?
I knew the answer: Yes—but only with him. It’d never crossed my mind until I saw him working at his net in the glow of the pool light.
Maxime took a step towards me. “Let me rephrase that. Chloe, is this something you’d like me to do to you?”
I bit my lip hard, willing the words to come. Only when Maxime dragged his fingertips down my spine, did I finally nod. “Yes, please.”
At the slightest curve of his lips, my cheeks burned. Apparently, my English manners didn’t fail me even whenasking aman to tie twine around my wrists and fuck me senseless. And that’s absolutely what I intended to ask for.
Without another word, Maxime leaned in and kissed me hard. He weaved his hands around my body, his tongue slipping inside my mouth to dance with mine. When I tried to touch his face, he moved, wrapping his palms around my wrists. I fought him a little at first. I wanted to touch him, feel his hot skin at my fingertips. But when he made a noise deep in his chest, I stilled. It wasn’t a growl exactly, more a suggestion to behave, only much, much hotter.
When Maxime eased the pressure on my wrists, he brought our hands together, pressing my palms to his chest. I didn’t dare move. He kissed me again, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles against mine. Then, still holding my hands, he guided them lower, until he folded my wrists behind me, securing them at the small of my back with one broad hand.
“You okay?” he whispered. When I nodded, he kissed my shoulder, then stepped slowly around my body, his breath brushing softly against my skin. He was like a tiger stalking me. When he got to my back, I was ready to collapse in a heap on the thick carpet.
Maxime was hardly touching me, but I’d never felt so alive, or so needy. I was aware of exactly where he was in space, how he breathed,every movement he made. It was as if I’d morphed into metal and he was my magnet.
When he finally stopped with his chest pressed against my back, he kissed my neck again. Only this time, he punctuated his kisses with words. “Don’t… move.”
With that sexy husk in his voice, why would I?
In a beat, Maxime threaded the fishing twine around my wrists, pulling it tight.
At the snag of my skin, I sucked in a breath, arching back into him. Only he didn’t come round to face me. Instead, he pulled tighter, moving me backwards to the foot of his bed. Icouldn’t see what was in my path and frankly, I didn’t care. He could’ve bumped me into a chair and it wouldn’t have even registered. All I could focus on was the sound of his breath.
Finally, we stopped, his soft sheets grazing the back of my knees. This time, Maximesteppedaround me, bringing his chest to mine. Based on the burning aroundmy wrist, he’d left one hand at the knot.
