Page 33 of About That One Night
“Sure, meddling is love.” He rolls his eyes.
“It is,” I assure him.
“The point is that if you move here, you’ll have a little peace and quiet. Also, if I finish working at midnight, I can just drop by and say hello,” he says with a wink, stepping closer. His playful grin sends a thrill through me.
Before I can respond, Max closes the distance between us, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His touch is electric, and my breath hitches. He leans in slowly, his eyes locked on mine, and the anticipation makes my heart race.
When his lips finally meet mine, the kiss is intense, full of unspoken desire. His other hand finds its way to my lower back, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss. The world around us fades away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth moving against mine. His kiss is demanding and consuming, and I melt into him, my knees going weaker than his promise to stop breaking rules.
Max’s fingers tangle in my hair, and I feel a surge of heat as the kiss grows more fervent. It’s as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this one moment, and I’m helpless to do anything but respond in kind. When he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing heavily, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes.
“See?” he murmurs, his forehead resting against mine. “It’s a win-win.”
Still dazed by the kiss, I try to compose myself and narrow my gaze. “Is this your way of getting me closer to your place?”
He gasps in mock offense. “I would never. But . . . if it happens to be conveniently located, who am I to complain?”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re incorrigible, McCallister.”
“That’s why you like me.” He winks, looking far too pleased with himself.
As I look around the charming studio again, I can’t help but wonder: is this just another fun adventure with Max, or is it something more? And why does the thought of “something more” not terrify me as much as it should?
We’re just friends who happen to have fun together and are teaching each other a thing or two about life. Right?
“So, what are you thinking?” He interrupts my thoughts, his voice softer than usual. “I can have the contract ready for you by this afternoon. Do you want it?”
“Yes. I love it,” I admit, trying not to sound too eager.
Max watches me, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad you love it. You deserve a place that feels like home.”
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to kiss him again. “And where exactly would you fit into this new home of mine, Mr. McCallister?”
His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Oh, I’m sure we could find a spot for me. Maybe right here?” He pulls me close again, and as our lips meet, I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s a person. I just have to remind myself that this person is temporary, just like the studio.
Chapter Nineteen
MaxMc: Seriously, you’re choosing your sister and Ethan again?
Zoe: What?
MaxMc: You’re moving this weekend, I had plans for us and Ethan just told me he’s helping you move to a studio you found this past weekend.
Zoe: What do you mean they’re helping me move?
MaxMc: You didn’t know?
Zoe: Obviously. I . . . ugh. Mom. That was Mom. I told her Sunday night that I found the studio and they would allow me to move this upcoming weekend. She said they couldn’t help me—I never asked—but not to worry.
MaxMc: And you say my mother is the meddling one.
Zoe: I didn’t say that, I just repeated what your sister told me.
MaxMc: She does have wedding books ready for me and Jacob, just in case our brides-to-be don’t have something like that.
Zoe: (skull emoji)
MaxMc: Stop, or I’ll tell her you and I are an item.
