Page 58 of Smooth Sailing
“That was quite a welcome,” he murmured.
Her lips curved into a playful smile. “Just showing you what your bike does to me,” she teased, her breath warm against his skin.
“Damn, I need to ride more often. Maybe even in the winter.”
“Right now, I’d rather you ride me,” she said bluntly.
Her words bypassed his brain, striking deep in his gut, unfurling into a swarm of hungry butterflies. He swallowed hard, tasting anticipation on his tongue.
She nodded toward Drake’s Mercedes. “Is the fancy car merely keeping watch, or is your brother playing sentinel inside?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “You pulled in right behind me. I haven’t been inside. But probably.”
She winked. “Well, that puts a damper on my plans to ravish you on this bike.”
Desire coursed through him. He leaned in, ready to throw caution to the wind until a flicker of movement in the kitchen window caught his eye. Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water. Right. The house. His brother. He pulled back slightly, keeping a hand on Paloma’s waist.
“As tempting as that sounds,” he murmured, nodding toward the house, “we might have an audience.”
“That’s okay. It’s just good to see you, Max. I’ve missed this.” She kissed him. “Missed us.”
Her words cleared away his shadows. He’d worried the spark might have fizzled with her during their time apart. But here she was, standing before him, her eyes bright with desire and something that looked a lot like affection.
He drank in the sight of her. Weeks of longing crashed over him, made worse by her tantalizing proximity. He curled his hands into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to pull her close again.
He’d spent the last week trying not to overthink what had happened in Traverse City, reminding himself they’d agreed to wait until the Sterling project was completed to talk about what they were to each other. And did they need to? The way she looked at him now, the way she’d practically melted into his arms, had to mean something. And what if putting a name to whatever was growing between them would change everything?
Playing it cool, he took her hand, and they walked to the house. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll make us something for dinner.” He pulled her close at the door, running his lips along her neck, taking in her sweet, sexy scent. “Then we’re going to my bedroom, and I’m having you for dessert.”
“Oh, Max,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling as they walked toward the house. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you? Offering dinner first when we both know what you’re really hungry for.” She pressed into his back, and he fumbled with the lock, turning around and pushing his hungry mouth to her lips.
Breaking the kiss, he reached behind and opened the door. “What can I say? I’m a nice guy.” Keeping her in his arms, he walked backward to the foyer. “And I believe in doing things properly.”
“Nice and proper, hmm? I’ll be sure to remember that later,” she said before going on her tiptoes and nipping her earlobe. “But I prefer rough and thorough.”
He cupped her ass, pressing her against him. Never mind. She was going to be his dinner and dessert.
“I was beginning to think you’d set up camp in the driveway,” said Drake.
Max’s head snapped toward his brother’s voice. His eyes narrowed at Drake, leaning against the kitchen sink. Paloma’s hold slid from around him, her cheeks flushing red.
“I thought I saw you spying like a creep,” Max said, resting a hand on her back and leading her to the kitchen.
“I’m the creep?” A sardonic smirk played on his brother’s lips. “You were the one trying to crawl inside Paloma through her mouth.”
Max laughed-groaned. “Shut the f—”
“Maximilian! Language!” His mother’s voice rang out as she strode from the great room into the kitchen.
He jolted, his elbow knocking against a mug on the counter. It clattered with a thud into the sink. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your mother? I haven’t seen either of my sons in weeks, so I came to you guys.” His mom’s gaze moved from him to Drake and then locked onto Paloma. She tilted her head, eyebrows rising a fraction.
His tongue was sandpaper in his mouth. He glanced at Paloma, then at his mom. How did he introduce her? Work partner? No, too formal after Traverse City. The memory of their time there flickered through his mind, and his cheeks burned hotter. But are they dating? They hadn’t talked about it yet.
“Mom, this is Paloma—”
She stepped forward, extending her hand. “I work with Max.”
