Page 44 of Dr. Bad Boy

I’m not sure what he sees in me, since I hug him too much and call him my bestie, but I also save him from cookies, so that’s something.

He lets himself out and I do the dishes, restless and fidgety as my mind drifts back to the question of just what exactly I want.

And how far I’ll let Max push me past that point.

14

Max

I’m edgy and restless. I have been all morning, and now as I take the stairs up to Violet’s apartment two at a time, I’m trying to tell myself to chill the fuck out.

It’s not working.

Three months I haven’t been laid.

Three months I’ve wanted more of her.

And then I saw her again, and couldn’t have her. So this is a gift, and I know I need to be so fucking careful here, but I’m feeling uncharacteristically reckless and wild.

Walking away from her last night was the right thing to do.

But if she opens that door and she wants me the way I want her, all bets are off.

I pause on her landing, making myself wait. Proving to myself that I’m still in control.

Then I knock, and the door swings open.

She’s wearing a long, dark-grey sweater that looks soft to the touch. It’s big enough to wrap around her entire body, giving me just a glimpse at the lounge clothes underneath. Black yoga pants, maybe—I approve, most definitely—and a silky tank top, a lighter shade of grey than the sweater. I need to touch her.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly as I step over the threshold and right into her personal space.

I curl my fingers in to keep from grabbing her, letting just my knuckles graze across her cheek. She’s soft all over, delicate and beautiful. I let my gaze roam over her as my fingers slide through her silky hair. Despite her carefully casual appearance, she’s gone to a lot of effort for this. Her makeup is subtle. Perfect. Nothing on her lips, but her eyelids are artfully smoky, framing endless pools of the deepest blue water. I want to drown in her.

And she’s wearing that perfume again.

I growl under my breath as I tighten my fist in her hair, angling her head back, forcing her mouth up. I had to wait three months between kisses the last time. Now it’s only been fifteen hours and I’m like a restless tiger stalking his prey.

Willing prey, from the way she reacts, her lips parting to let slip a breathy sigh. “Quite a greeting.”

“That’s nothing compared to what I wanted to do.”

“What was that?”

“Tell you that I’ve been thinking about kissing you again since I left last night. That it feels like a lifetime and I need to taste you again more than I need air.”

“What did I tell you about romance?” she says, but she’s swaying against me, so I’m forgiven for thinking it was a good idea to voice some of the emo shit running through my head.

I pull her hair a little harder. “I promise my brand of romance is mostly ironic. Seventy-thirty split between torture and sweet nothings.”

She laughs gently and winds her arms around my neck. “Oh, be still my kinky heart.”

I nip at her lower lip, and she gasps, so I give in and kiss her for real.

I’m so tired of pulling back, of stopping myself from just taking this woman.

One more afternoon of being civilized. A no-holds barred boundary discussion, then I’m fucking her to within an inch of sanity. Hers or mine, maybe both.

Thankfully she’s got more willpower than I do, and she presses her hands against my chest.

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