Page 30 of Invisible String
A sudden burst of wind rushes by us, carrying the scent of pine into our surroundings. I shiver as the cold air hits me. Ugh, I wish I could take this damn bikini off. It keeps going up my ass. I park myself next to Max. “Are we taking a break before we get to the car?” I ask.
He picks at strands of grass. “You need to catch your breath. You were turning purple,” he says cautiously.
Now I feel horrible. I’ve given this man a scare today. I wrecked his car, then drove like a crazy lady, giving him a flashback of a horrific accident that had him lose his mother, then me turning purple on him. Bless his heart.
I hop onto his lap, his gaze rolling over with worry. The tips of my fingers trace his perfectly shaped lips. “How about I breathe some of your air into my lungs?” God, that came out cheesy.
He smirks. “You want a kiss? After all this? You’re crazy. Here I thought you were drowning—dying on me, and you want to make out.”
My breath fans his lips. “Yes, what a perfect way to relieve tension.” His hands grip my ass, and damn, do I like the feeling of his hands all over me. He’s like an addictive drug you can’t stay away from. With a desperate hunger, our lips crash together, and I grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling him toward me until our teeth accidentally clink together.
“How many men have you kissed?” he asks when we pull away.
He fixes a hard stare, mouth set in a tight line. My heart does jumping jacks at how beautiful he is and how he shows only a fraction of emotion.
“Other than you, one.”
His head tilts, eyebrows raised. “I don’t believe that,” he says flatly.
“Why? Do you think I’m some chick that gets around?”
He smacks my ass.
“Ouch.”
“Of course not. You’re beautiful, and I just thought you probably had a couple of relationships.”
Boy, is he wrong. I’m as inexperienced as they come. I’ve never had a man go down on me, or hell, I’ve never even sucked a guy.
“You were my first kiss. I had sex with a guy I was seeing for a short time, and it was nothing great.” I lick my lips, wondering how it would be to be with him in bed.
“So, you had a boyfriend before?” His voice is gruff with a lick of jealousy.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t call him that.” The selection of men is not the best here in Reno; the ratio is slim.
“Why not?” His fingers curl in my hair.
“He wasn’t boyfriend material. Or maybe he just wasn’t into me. I hardly saw him.”
I can’t help it. I kiss his stubble. “How many girls have you had?” I go back to kissing his chin to his neck. He groans. I can feel his erection pressed against my leg.
“None.”
I roll my eyes. “What a liar. You’re not a virgin.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
Oh, of course he’s not. I mean, look at him. It’s like he stepped out of a magazine. “So, how many girlfriends did you have, or do you have one now? Because that would screw things up for both of us.”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend…never had one.” He shrugs. “And I don’t want one.”
The words felt like a hot, burning pot being thrown at me, searing into my very core. He doesn’t want a girlfriend. Is the hint for me to take? He’s returning to Vegas, and I’m returning to my studies.
“Why are you anti-girlfriend?” I ask, my hands on his neck.
“No. I just…don’t have the time for one.”
“So, you just like to hook up with them. Like a fuck them and leave them.” My heart splinters at the thought of the number of women he must have bedded.
