Page 45 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
Alone in the darkened living room, everything felt different. There were no eyes on them. The boundaries were limitless, other than the voice inside Max’s head warning her quietly. She nudged it away. In the same room where they’d shared laughs, ideas, and even argued over the pages of a book, they could now kiss with abandon, disregarding time and space and the rest ofthe world. Heat licked its way from Max’s ankles to her elbows to her shoulders to her breasts and beyond. She savored the warmth of Ella’s mouth, kissing her deeper, exploring with her tongue, ever so slightly at first and then more purposefully. She pulled back from the kiss and, with one finger, traced the column of Ella’s neck, listening to the quiet sound of her breathing. She kissed the underside of her jaw and met her gaze in the small patch of moonlight streaming in from the back window.
“Come back here,” Ella murmured, guiding Max’s lips to hers for more. This time, Max’s hands didn’t obey her instructions, slipping beneath Ella’s shirt to the warm skin of her back. She needed to feel just some portion of her right this moment. When she heard Ella murmur encouragement against Max’s mouth, she wanted to touch more. She palmed Ella’s breast through her shirt, completely turned on by the weight of it, her nipple pressing into her hand through the fabric. Sexiest fucking thing ever. Her center ached now, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. As they kissed, she cupped Ella’s ass, satisfied yet hungry at the same time. Ella nodded, propelling her. Were they doing this? Could she actually take things further in Stevie’s living room, of all places? “You’re a bad influence,” she murmured in Ella’s ear. “But I can’t seem to get enough of you.”
“I blame you for all of this.” Ella nipped her jaw, the sound of her accelerated breathing intensifying the urgency with which Max moved. She undid the button on Ella’s pants and slowly slid the zipper down as they kissed. The forbidden nature of their surroundings somehow only intensified her drive. When Ella nodded again, she had all the confirmation she needed. She slid her hand down the front of Ella’s pants into warmth, honored by how wet she was, and determined to make her see stars. Ella immediately moaned ever so quietly and covered her mouth, remembering Stevie in the next room. Max nodded and settled a hand behind Ella’s back. She allowed her fingers toexplore, moving through damp folds, relying on soft touches. Ella’s facial features served as her silent guide. As Max began to stroke, they found their own hypnotic rhythm. Ella’s hips began to rock, and her eyes closed. It was only a short time before her head fell back and her lips parted, their pace now quicker. Their eyes locked and held just as Ella’s muscles went tight and still in Max’s arms. Her lips rolled in, a shout of pleasure contained. The moonlight spilled over them like a secret, illuminating the raw, tender intimacy, a soft glow that seemed to seal their bond in that fragile, fleeting moment.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” Max said simply, holding Ella, watching her float back to herself. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ella exhaled, her hands shaking. “I’ve never done anything like that.” She looked around. “At book club even.”
Max laughed quietly in her ear. “This is so not book club.”
“We’re scandalous,” she hissed, a smile on her face. “But that was a satisfying scandal.” Another exhale and a headshake. “Let me tell you.”
“We need more time and privacy. And soon.”
“What are we doing?” Ella said, going up on her toes and wrapping her arms around Max’s neck. “I feel entirely out of control.”
“In a bad way?”
She met Max’s gaze, her blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. An angel on earth. She slowly shook her head, her hands sliding into Max’s hair as she guided her mouth back down. She brushed Max’s lips with hers once, twice, and then kissed her deeply.
“I should take you home,” Max said when they came up for air. “Because if I don’t, I’m not going to be able to control myself.”
“Should I return the favor?” Ella whispered in her ear. “I want to. I want my hands all over you.”
The words sent an intense wave of heat through Max’s already overloaded system. She closed her eyes, taking a minute to absorb the sensations that moved through her, and opened them again. The two of them were, simply put, combustible. More so than Max had even planned on. “If we start again, we won’t stop. We both know it.” Reluctantly, Max kissed the inside of Ella’s wrist, returned Ella’s hands to her sides, and took a step back. “See? I keep kissing you.”
Ella laughed. “Then I guess we’d better get out of here.” God, even her whisper was sexy.
“What are you doing to me?” Max murmured, watching Ella walk to the door, buttoning her jeans as she went. Their interactions tonight had been totally unexpected until she thought about the fact that they’d been navigating a crash course toward each other from the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other. She didn’t know how this whole thing was going to play out, but there were land mines scattered all around them. They weren’t a good idea. But Max knew one thing for sure—whatever sparked between them was as irresistible as it was dangerous. They could go up in flames just as easily from passion as from destruction, and, somehow, that only made the pull between them stronger. Plain and simple, Max Wyler, who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted, didn’t know how to say no to this.
ELEVEN
Text Messages and Tagines
“You never told me about your night at Sally Sue’s.” Rachel sat in the middle of the living room, painting her toes a deep plum. She believed that biting her lower lip improved her accuracy, and, honestly, it probably did.
With that question, Ella was immediately transported back in time. It had been two days since the night out to Sally Sue’s with the book club. Two days since Max had turned her world upside down with that sexy encounter in Stevie’s living room.
And now Rachel was looking at her while she thought about kissing Max. Alarm bells blared, and her bowl of Oatmeal Hoopties went still in her grasp. “Right. The other night happened.” A pause because hell, what should she say? “Yeah. It was great. I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned that place before. The whole scene is like something out of a dream … or a very western acid trip.”
“Thank you for getting that.” Rachel looked up from her toe-painting. “It’s a good time, yes. And a highly effective venue for picking up chicks, but I can’t get past the gaudy theming that borders on aesthetically criminal, ya know? At leasttryfor complementary colors.”
“Maybe Sally Sue wasn’t a design major in school.”
Ella felt a little defensive about little Sally Sue’s Western Safari. It now had a special place in her heart after the whirlwind night with Max and the Weepers. Had she thought of anything else since? Of course she hadn’t. Max seemed to edge her way into every other topic like she owned all of Ella’s thoughts.
“Maybe she should have been,” Rachel said and went back to her toes. “Who was there?”
And here we go. “Oh. Just book club people. The same group as always. Remember I told you about Stevie, who came out after twenty-some years of marriage? Well, this was her informal debut on the scene.”
“I love that for her.” A pause. “But I take it you had to deal with Max.”
“She was there,” Ella said, placing her bowl in the dishwasher. “Do you work today?” It was later than usual for Rachel to be home, and the tidbit seemed like a great segue out of the dangerously loaded Max conversation.
“Yeah, but I’ve stayed late all week. I’m taking a leisurely morning. I’ve earned it.”
“Nice! I think I’m gonna invest some time in social media today. See if I can drum up some more business for Cover Crush.”
