Page 110 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
I briefly considered pretending to contemplate the question for a moment, but I could tell the honesty he’d just given me had cost him. So he deserved my own.
I brought two hands to each side of Maxwell’s head, cradling his face between my palms. I focused intently, channelling every ounce of sincerity I possessed into a single thought:
…I think I might like, like you very much as well…
I pushed the thought forward with all my might, willing it to cross the barrier between our minds, infusing it with the tangled mess of emotions churning inside me—the warmth, the fear, the longing.
Maxwell’s breath audibly caught. His eyes widened behind his glasses, lips parting in surprise. He leaned down, trying to capture my mouth with his, but I ducked away, sliding my hands down to rest on his shoulders.
“You still have one more question left,” I said softly. “It has to be fair.”
I still had a dozen more questions I desperately wanted to ask him, like “but do you want to see me when we get back to London,” and “what fruit is your favourite on French toast,” and “why do you make me feel so warm and tingly inside?”
But I kept silent, awaiting Maxwell’s final question.
He considered me, his gaze searching my face. “What’s that weird electric thing that keeps happening to you? I know you know what it is.”
Fuck.Not that.
Visualising a white brick wall in case he decided to cheat, I reached over to pick up my glass and downed the drink in three large gulps, the amber liquid burning a fiery trail down my throat. I gasped for air afterwards, my eyes watering.
Then I threw my body at him before he could demand the truth. Because I almost wanted to give it to him. But I didn’t want to spoil this fragile thing between us with delusional suggestions of forever.
Not when he actuallyliked, liked me.
He caught me with a soft sound, wrapping his arms around me as I stretched upward on my tiptoes to kiss him deeply. I wanted Maxwell’s hand on my dick so badly I could scream with it—and then suddenly his hand was there, cupping me through my jeans, squeezing with just the right pressure.
Maxwell’s breath ghosted against my ear, making me practically melt into a puddle as he whispered, “Can I taste you?”
My brain short-circuited. Four simple words that nearly sent me over the edge right there.Yes, yes, yes,my mind screamed, every cell in my body vibrating with want.
Maxwell pulled back slightly, dark eyes searching mine. “I want to hear you say it.”
“God, yes,” I managed to gasp out, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “Please. Before I combust.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward in satisfaction. “You know, I think I like you desperate.”
And suddenly he was moving at lightning speed. His fingers found the button of my jeans, making quick work of it and my zip. I hopped awkwardly, helping him as he tugged them down my legs with an urgency that made my heart race.
The sound of Maxwell’s knees hitting the kitchen tiles had me quivering in anticipation. He reached for my underwear… then froze. His eyes widened comically behind his glasses as he stared at the bright pink fabric adorned with cheerful yellow rubber ducks.
“Fun, right?” I said, wiggling my hips slightly.
Maxwell still looked semi-shocked, blinking rapidly as though trying to process what he was seeing. But then something shifted in his expression—a softening around his eyes, a quirk of his lips—and he leaned forward, pressing his open mouth against my hipbone. The hot slide of his tongue made me shudder, my hands finding purchase in his tight coils.
With a boldness that surprised me, he grabbed the waistband of my ridiculous underwear with his teeth and began dragging them down, his hands coming up to knead my ass cheeks firmly.
And then suddenly, there I was—completely exposed, my cock proudly jutting between us. A wave of anxiety washed over me as Maxwell stared. What if he didn’t really want this? What if he felt obligated to reciprocate after last night? What if—
“Rory,” Maxwell said, voice firm but gentle. “What is it going to take to convince you that I’m attracted to every part of you, including your dick?”
“Umm…” I laughed weakly. “A fucking killer hot blow job?”
“No pressure, then,” he muttered, swallowing visibly. For a moment, something flashed across his face, and I caught the nervousness he was trying to hide. “You know, I obviously haven’t done this before, so… ‘killer hot blow job’ might be a bit of a stretch. Will marginally adequate do?”
Myheart gave a tiny squeeze. “Maxwell, you could probably read me the phone book right now and I’d come. I don’t actually need killer hot. I just need you.”
His expression softened as he reached up, stroking over the dark blond thatch of hair above my dick, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they traced patterns through the coarse curls. I fought hard not to purr like a kitten.
