Page 82 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“The mystery of Olive and her personal life continues,” Max said with a perplexed grin.
They walked on. A busker strummed an acoustic guitar near the fountain, his open case scattered with singles and change. Max dropped a five as they passed, and they all exchanged a smile. As they rounded the corner to the new row of vendors, Ella let what she learned about Max and her upbringing sink in. It explained why she was so driven, so put together, and unflappable. Because those things had been required of her. Ella touched her heart where it tugged for the little girl who just wanted to be good enough. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, but at the same time, felt it should be something. She turned, her lips parted, grasping for words, but the beauty before Ella stole the air from her lungs. Max’s profile, lit by the amber market glow, was all sharp cheekbones and soft curves. A breeze caught her dark hair and let it fall again, and Ella knew—without question—that she’d remember this moment for the rest of her life.
“Your hair’s a little tousled.”
Max lifted her hand to smooth it.
“No. Don’t.” Ella caught her wrist and slid her hand back into Max’s, lacing their fingers slowly. “You’re stunning.”
Max seemed struck. Her features relaxed into a small smile, and if Ella wasn’t mistaken, Max Wyler’s cheeks colored the slightest shade of pink. Was that even possible?
“And I’m sorry if you’ve ever felt that you weren’t good enough.”
Max squeezed her hand, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in and brushed Ella’s lips with her own. She pulled back slightly, but didn’t go anywhere. Instead, she lingered in Ella’s space and met her eyes. The scent of her raspberry shampoo wrapped around Ella, sun-warmed and sweet. For a second, the world went still. Max’s eyes searched hers, steady, open, like she was asking a question without words. And that’s when Ella understood. Max was letting her see all the way in.
Ella’s breath caught, not from nerves, but from recognition.
This wasn’t just attraction—it was safety. It was history and hope layered together in one moment of connection.
She reached up and tucked a strand of Max’s hair behind her ear, letting her fingers linger.
“I see you,” Ella whispered.
Max smiled, something soft and unguarded breaking across her face. “I know.”
For Ella, the day had felt like an important one for several reasons. They’d helped Doug piece back together his store. She’d shared a few key moments with Rachel. But the most significant part of her day was the step forward she and Max had taken in their relationship; their emotional bond was stronger for the honest moment they’d shared. Max was opening up to her, and it felt like the curtains were being lifted.
She’d stayed at Max’s place that night, and they’d come together in a clash of heat, this time more familiar with each other, more comfortable. Ella took her time with Max’s body, watching the way her soft touches affected Max, how her firmer ones changed the sounds she made. She wanted to memorizeall the little ways to make Max scream her name and how to prolong her orgasm for as long as humanly possible. Where had that tiny scar on the back of her shoulder come from? And where was her favorite place on her body to be kissed? Ella’s very important study would take time, but she was more than willing to be patient and put in the hard work. She smothered a grin, looking forward to all that information gathering.
Hours later, as the warm rays slanted through the blinds, brushing their skin and wrapping them in the morning light, Ella stirred. She sighed happily at what she saw: a mass of dark hair splayed across her pillow and the soft skin of Max’s arm and shoulders visible above the sheets. She couldn’t help but imagine waking up like this every morning, as overeager as that may have been. The concept was almost too much to envision. She’d heard the phrase afraid to hope and fully realized its meaning now.
“It’s Sunday. Why are you awake?”
She looked down and grinned because she loved Max’s raspy, quiet, and adorable sleepy voice.
Ella slid back down beneath the sheets and pressed her body to Max’s. Neither of them had felt the need to put on clothes to sleep in, well,after. Max’s arm immediately went around Ella’s waist and pulled her in even closer. Her eyes were closed, but a small smile played on her lips.
“You’re so warm,” Ella said, savoring the skin-on-skin contact. She could get used to this. She slipped her leg between Max’s, intermingling them. That did it. Max’s eyes opened.
“This might be one of my favorite wake-ups in the history of wake-ups.” She kissed the underside of Ella’s jaw softly, slowly. “Never leave this bed.”
“Could be a nice existence,” Ella said, looking skyward. Max’s lips were on her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed. She was in awe of how quickly her body was responding to the attention. The subtle ache had already started, and she squirmed ever soslightly in response. Max, who missed nothing, read the cue and began a soft caress of the inside of her thigh. She heard her own exhale. “What are you doing?” she asked. Max’s answer was to move to her other thigh, lightly tracing, softly tickling, pulling so many sensations. So close. Yet so far. If there was ever a case of yearning to be touched, this was it. Ella lifted her hips, asking. Max answered, touching her softly. She pulled her mouth from Ella’s neck and watched her face instead.
“How’s that?” she asked quietly, administering the featherlight touches between her legs.
“More,” Ella managed, pushing against Max’s hand, feeling control slipping away.
Her fingers moved into Ella’s folds. She stroked her slowly. First one pass, then another, carefully avoiding the one spot where Ella so desperately needed her because she knew exactly what she was doing. Ella sucked in more air as the pressure between her legs climbed steadily, her need causing her to slam her eyes shut and hold on, uncomfortable and needing release quickly. She rocked her hips, hoping to increase the friction. Heat licked its way up her body, a small flame spreading rapidly until she felt it everywhere. Her face heated, and her skin prickled with sensitivity. Max slipped two fingers inside and began to move. A moan tore from her lips, raw and unrestrained, before she could stop it. She lifted her hips, granting Max better access, and moved with the steady, devastating rhythm of Max’s hand, a hypnotic beat all their own. The need was visceral, a delicious, unbearable kind of torment.
“You’re fucking sexy,” Max murmured. “And you’re getting closer, aren’t you?”
Ella nodded, but words were too hard. She focused on one thing —a singular, very primal goal. She rode Max’s hand, increasing their pace and moving herself closer and closer to the finish line. She was nearing the edge of the cliff, desperatenow and working for it. Max’s thumb brushed her clit and she cried out, the sensations overpowering her. So very close. Another light touch. A third. Ella broke in a shocking burst of pleasure that tore through her, leaving her trembling, her thighs tightening instinctively around Max as she gasped her name. Waves of bliss crashed over her, relentless and overwhelming, until she had no choice but to surrender entirely to the force of it.
“Dead. I’m dead. You killed me,” Ella murmured as she slowly returned to earth. She lay there, limp and in heaven.
“You are the most gorgeous dead person I’ve ever seen.” Max slid down the bed and kissed Ella’s breast, pulling the nipple into her mouth.
“Don’t do sexy things right now. Your sexy limit has been reached.”
