Page 117 of Party Favors

“Oh no,” I said, suddenly remembering why I shouldn’t have pushed him into that wall. “For a few months Vella was going to be a painter and she had all these canvases hanging up and she never took the nails out. Let me see.”

He lifted his shirt, and for a good twenty seconds, I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that his torso was the most perfect thing I had ever seen in my entire life. My throat closed and my heart jackhammered in my chest.

Wow.

My fingers actually ached to touch him and I had to ball my hands up so that I didn’t attack him.

“Is it bad?” he asked, causing me to remember what I was supposed to be doing.

There was a short scratch, but it wasn’t bleeding. He’d only grazed his skin. “You definitely nailed yourself. Sorry about the pun.”

“It’s okay. It was a good one.”

I shook my head. “So I nearly knocked you out and now I’ve scratched you up.”

“I don’t mind if you scratch me up,” he said in a voice full of promise and longing at the same time.

Without thinking I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the scratch. Probably not very sanitary but I heard his sharp intake of breath, stronger than when he’d actually injured himself.

I tilted my head to the side to see his face better. The air was thick and heavy with unresolved tension and I could feel my rampaging heartbeat in my toes. A silent agreement passed between us, and the next thing I knew, his shirt was coming off. I honestly didn’t know if he had unbuttoned it or if I had done it. But it slid off his shoulders and he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes!” So much more than okay. I was going to have myself a field day. I meant to explore him, to kiss every inch of exposed, warm skin, to feel and taste all the ways he was different than me, but my exploration was cut short when his mouth descended quickly on mine and I had to settle for running my fingers along the muscles in his back as I was pressed against him.

We took a couple of stumbling steps, our lips still fused together as we moved. There were no thoughts happening. Just pure, blissful, unadulterated lust.

Not just that, though. There was something more. There was frantic need and desperation but feelings being conveyed, too. He cared about me—I felt it in the way he kissed me, the way he touched me. How he tried to continue to be gentle with me even if every movement was tinged with utter wildness. I reveled in the restraint I felt in every muscle in his body, as if it took everything inside him to hold himself back.

I wondered what an unleashed Max would be like.

My brain would probably overload and explode from it.

The backs of my legs hit my bed and I fell against it with a surprised Max following.

“I’m good,” I said before he could ask. It had been my idea, after all. He moved to lie alongside me and I immediately missed his weight pressing me down.

“Everly,” he said, and my name was a broken sound in his chest. He rasped my name against my lips a few more times, as if he meant to tell me something but couldn’t remember what it was.

I totally understood.

Now that I had Max Colby in my bed, I intended to finally explore him the way I’d wanted to since his shirt had come off. I started off with the area that was closest to me—his throat.

He tilted his head to the side for me, allowing me better access. I kissed and nipped my way down and absolutely loved the hisses and sighs he made. How his muscles would contract when my wandering fingers brushed against them. His every tiny reaction that I was responsible for—it was like finding out you had a superpower you never knew about.

A low, rough sound escaped his throat, something primal, and he pulled my face up to his so that he could kiss me.

Not just kiss me, but kiss me without holding back.

Liquid pleasure pooled immediately in my spine, spreading everywhere and making me feel too hot and my skin too tight. Like I was a star about to go supernova.

I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth and he pulled back slightly. He started speaking Italian in between his kisses and I didn’t even care what he was saying, only that it was so hot I wanted to spontaneously combust.

His breath was heavy and his hands wandered along the edge of my tank top, and then his fingers were under the hem, pressing into my back as it was his turn to explore. I was completely aflame everywhere he touched me—hot, crackling, burning.

And every kiss and every touch stoked that fire inside me, causing it to grow wilder and needier.

He dragged his lips away from mine and began pressing hungry kisses along my jaw, along the line of my throat. These were nothing like his soft, sweet kisses earlier. They were demanding and consuming and he was murmuring in Italian against my skin. I arched againstthe sensation, my heart turning volcanic and pumping molten blood through my body.

It was so much but I needed more. I tugged at his shoulders, wanting him to move.

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