Page 49 of Smooth Sailing
“Who knows . . . maybe.”
She gave his hand another gentle squeeze. “Definitely.”
They continued talking, sharing stories, and laughing as the sun sank in the sky. They finished their meal as the last rays disappeared into the water, taking the rest of the day’s heat.
She shivered slightly, pulling her knees to her chest. “I guess that’s our cue to head back,” she said, her voice soft.
He nodded, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that made breathing nearly impossible. “Yeah, I suppose it is,” he replied, his tone low and filled with promise.
They packed up their sunset picnic, folding the blanket still warm from their bodies. The cooling sand shifted beneath her bare feet, each sinking step drawing her closer to him. His fingers found hers, calloused and warm, and her pulse quickened.
At the truck, he tucked a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, trailing down her cheek. “You have a bit of sand,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers.
She leaned into his touch. “Thanks,” she whispered.
His hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her skin. Her breath hitched, her heart racing, wanting him. The parking lot lights flickered on, casting a soft glow around them.
“Paloma,” he murmured. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She shivered, not from the cool evening air but from want. She huddled close to Max, and he banded his arms around her back. Pressing her hand on his chest, she felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms.
“I think I have some idea,” she said, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt. “Because you do the same to me.”
His thumb grazed her cheek as he held her gaze in the soft glow of the parking lot lights. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice dropping to that deep rumble that had her insides melting.
“Ye,” she whispered.
He moved slowly, deliberately, as if giving her time to change her mind. Then his lips were on hers. The kiss was nothing like their first frantic encounter. That had been all heat and urgency. This started gentle, an exploration that made her toes curl in the cool sand.
She rose on her tiptoes, pressing closer as her fingers curled into his shirt. The low groan that escaped him vibrated through her body, resting between her legs. His hand slid from her cheek to tangle in her hair. The waves and the autumn breeze faded until all she could focus on was the heat building between them.
His other hand settled at her waist, his fingers flexing against her hip when she nipped at his lower lip. The kiss deepened, and he backed her against the truck door. Her pulse raced at the way his body caged hers, solid and warm against the cool metal.
He pulled back, breathing hard. “We should stop, he said, voice rough with desire, “before we forget we’re in public.”
The clang of the taco truck’s window shuttering closed startled her. The person who’d made their dinner was getting more of a show than they’d bargained for. Max’s fingers tightened on her hip before he stepped back. “Let’s get you home.” His words held a promise that sent heat pooling low in her belly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
October 11th, 7:45
Paloma’s body hummed as she climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s truck. The sound of him closing her door echoed through her. He walked around the front of the truck, his movements purposeful and controlled. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the small space of the cab seemed to shrink even further, filled with the heat of his proximity and the lingering scent of his cologne.
He didn’t seem the type who liked when a woman shoved her hands down his pants without foreplay or warning, so she took a subtler approach, playing with the anticipation he seemed to love. She ran her fingers along the outside seam of his jeans. Starting at the knee and stopping mid-thigh, each stroke moving higher and higher.
Switching, she traced along the inside stitching. He sucked in a breath but didn’t tell her to stop. Good. And going by the way he kept shifting in his seat, and his erection was clearly defined through his jeans, he didn’t mind.
But to tease him, she stilled her hand and asked, “Do you want me to stop? You really should focus on the road.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched, a muscle twitched in his cheek. He shifted again, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “I’m focused on the damn road,” he said, his voice low and rough. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t stop.”
“Ooh, someone’s bossy.” And she liked it.
By the time he pulled into the underground parking lot of the condo, she had his jeans completely unzipped and her hand wrapped around his erection, stroking him.
Or she did until he swung the truck into the parking spot. Then he shut it off and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her with a feral intensity that was perfect. He moved to the hollow at the base of her throat, just above where the collarbones meet, and licked before kissing her.
She gasped, “How did you know?”
