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He nods, his lips brushing against my cheek. “I remember. We talked about it already—both had our physicals done recently. Clean bill of health on both ends.”

“And I’m on the pill,” I add, though a part of me is still weighing the logistics of everything. “But just to be safe, I’m grabbing Plan B today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring. “Then we can decide after if we keep going without condoms, or not. No rush.”

I smile, touched by how calm and rational he is about everything. The moment feels both casual and intimate, the way he’s so present with me. “Yeah. No rush.”

And with that, his lips find mine again, soft and sweet at first, but quickly deepening, pulling me under. Every slow thrust reminds me of how much I want this, how much I want him. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself fall without overthinking it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jacob

Max istwo years older than me, and for some reason, he thinks that gives him the right to boss me around. Drop by my office whenever the hell he feels like it and . . . well, annoy the hell out of me. It’s always the same, no matter how many times I explain to him that I’m a busy person.

“What do you want?” I ask, hoping it’s not tickets for the Boston Blades. I’m currently negotiating a contract for Killion Crawford, and calling him, his assistant, or the team is not an option right now.

“I heard you’re signing the next big star for the New England Seagulls,” he says, that smug grin spreading across his face.

Great. Another rumor. As much as I’d like to confirm it, I haven’t locked that deal yet. There are about a million balls I’m juggling, and yet, my brother is here to ask for tickets to something or other.

I tap my desk. “You have two minutes to tell me why you’re here or I’ll leave.”

Max arches an eyebrow, challenging me. “You’re going to leave your office?”

“Well, yeah. Knowing you, you’ll never leave,” I shoot back, already feeling the irritation bubbling up.

He leans against the doorframe, all casual-like. “I need your help with a property I’m buying for Zoe. And, if you could throw in some hockey tickets for the?—”

“No,” I cut him off before he can finish.

“You didn’t even let me?—”

“Again, no tickets for you. Need me to spell it out? I’m not a real estate agent, I’m not a lawyer . . . leave me the fuck alone.”

Max chuckles. “Huh. That’s weird.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What’s weird?”

“Caleb and Em said you’d be in a good mood today,” he says, his grin widening. “I mean, you finally got laid on Saturday night. I thought your holiday neighbor would’ve softened you up. Instead, it seems like she . . . hardened you. Or maybe she didn’t put out and you’re still hard—very hard—for her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, my temper flaring. “I forbid you to talk about her.”

Max, of course, ignores my warning. “But seriously, when do we get to meet the future Mrs. Holiday-McCallister or will it be McCallister-Holiday?”

“There’s no . . . Never,” I growl through gritted teeth. The last thing I need is for him to ruin this—like he’s ruined every relationship he can. Then it hits me . . . he hasn’t ruined his own engagement, and Zoe actually adores him. How the fuck did that happen?

I’m quiet for a beat, my mind spinning. Then I blurt out, “When?”

Max frowns, confused. “When what?”

“When did you know Zoe was the love of your life?” I ask, my voice quieter than before.

Max’s smug grin softens. For the first time since he barged in, he looks at me like we’re having a real conversation. Then he ruins it. “Oh, you’ll know, Jacob. You’ll know.”

“No, I need a real fucking answer,” I insist.

He shrugs and smirks. “When I tasted her sweet cunt, of course.”