Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

They locked glares, neither one blinking or willing to back down. The wind picked up and blew in the open window, ruffling her hair around her face and something inside him tightened. Was he in love with her? Hell, yeah. He’d admired her forever, her body and her character, and love seemed to have snuck in as a natural progression, but that’s not what she needed to hear, not yet. She’d spent too long keeping him at arm’s length. He’d have to start somewhere they could agree. Max took a step closer, dropping his gaze to her lips. She licked them nervously, crossing her arms in front.

“What are you doing?” She shuffled backward, coming to a sudden stop against the raw wood of a two-by-six wall stud, flinging her hands out to catch her balance.

“Proving we’ve got a physical attraction between us.” One more pace put him in her personal space, their feet alternating on the floor, torsos brushing, hips close enough the heat of her body bled against his.

She leaned harder against the wood at her back, her breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt as she tried to widen the space between them, and he refused to give way. “What does that have to do— I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Max sank his fingers into her thick mane of dark hair and let his satisfaction escape in a low moan. God, he’d wanted to do that forever, and last night refusing her sexual advances had taken him to the breaking point. He needed this so badly he felt raw inside, aching with need for a taste of her. He tugged until her face tilted toward him, the smooth curve of her cheek shining in the midmorning sunlight. “Just in case you get some screwy idea of accepting only part of my terms. I don’t want you to imagine for even a moment we’re going to use any kind of turkey-baster method to get you pregnant.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, probably to lambaste him. He took advantage of the opportunity and clamped their mouths together.

Stone cold sober.

Suddenly, that’s what she was—the blood pounding through her carrying more than enough oxygen to reinvigorate her dusty brain cells. He was kissing her. No, that was wrong. A kiss was something your granny gave you, something innocent and calm that made you slightly sleepy. This was a different beast altogether, like a flash fire rolling through and consuming everything in its path, and before she realized what she was doing, Tasha had wholeheartedly joined in.

Maxwell Turner wasn’t only kissing her, he had his body so tight against hers there was no doubt remaining that various parts of his anatomy had increased in girth, and she wasn’t talking about his pecs anymore. His tongue swept into her mouth, the lingering hint of coffee vanishing as her taste buds switched to take him in. Clean, warm, and oh my God, the boy could kiss. Heat flushed from her core outward, her breasts grew hot and heavy, and damn if she remembered why she’d turned him away all these years. Strong fingers curled around her neck as he deepened their contact. She responded, her tongue brushing his, lips and teeth getting into the act. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging into the firm muscles under her fingertips. He ate greedily at her mouth until her head spun, senses shifting to overload.

He snuck a hand around her torso, fingers spread wide as he slid under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her lower back. Warm palm in full contact with her body, he pulled her even tighter against his groin, and his rigid erection dug into her belly. Her breasts were crushed between them, nipples tight and aching. Max fastened onto her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, a flash of ecstasy shooting through her core and setting her on fire. How long had it been since she’d felt like this from simply kissing? She scraped her fingernails down his back and he dragged his lips from hers, groaning loudly. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she shoved her fingers into his back pockets and yanked him forward. The leg between hers nudged her knees farther apart before sliding closer to connect with her sex.

His assault on her senses continued as he worked his way along her jaw to press kisses and nips to the tender skin below her ear. The need inside escalated to the point she was ready to peel off her clothes and go for it right there. She was empty, and aching. Their combined breathing carried loud on the air, echoing in the hollow spaces of the unfinished room.

Max returned to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the rocking motion of his hips, and she whimpered. It was too much and not nearly enough. He released his grip on her hair and cupped her ass instead, dragging her up his body until she rode the solid ridge of his erection. Tingling, flashes of heat, pleasure—all of it washed over her in waves and she clutched him tighter. Good Lord, she was going to climax like this, rubbing him like a cat.

He lifted her left leg higher and looped her knee over his elbow, forcing her back hard to the wall. Spread wide open, she was defenseless as he ground against her, the seam line of her jeans making contact with her clit through the thin layer of her thong and she panted hard. So close.

“Give it to me. Let me see…you…” He cut off and thrust, again and again. Muttered words drifted from his lips, his breath escaping in gasps. One more circular rotation with his hips, and she squeezed her eyes tight and tipped over the edge. Bliss bore down in rhythmic pulses, starting at the apex of her sex and spreading fingers through her core. She purred out her delight, accepting the orgasm and its continuing pleasure. He slowed his thrusts and recaptured her mouth, biting her lips, kissing her madly. Tasha leaned her head back to enjoy the aftershocks of her climax, taking delight in the attention he lavished on her.

They clung together, hands softening, lips slowing their feverish contact. Time slipped away. A buzzing fly drifted past their heads and pulled her from the haze of satisfaction settling heavy in her limbs.

He broke off their kiss, easing her down his body until her toes landed. He supported her, waiting for her to stop wavering on her feet. His chest moved in shallow breaths, obviously as affected by their actions as she. She glanced down and spotted his erection still bulging the front of his jeans. Remorse and doubt crept over her. Oh shit, what had she done?

He lifted her head and she stared into his eyes. The centers were dark, pupils dilated with lust. “You are so damn beautiful.”

Max cupped her neck again, pulling her against his chest, and she’d never felt guiltier in her life. She listened to the pounding of his heart under her ear and let reality sneak back in. She had dry humped someone who she’d sworn to not get involved with sexually.

Who’d proposed to her thirty minutes ago and suggested he wanted nothing better than to get her pregnant.

Just as her mind protested vehemently, he cleared his throat. His voice when he spoke was deeper than usual, husky with lust. “I needed that.”

Madness. Sheer madness. Tasha pressed her palms against his chest in an attempt to separate their bodies. His arms were steel bands around her as he refused to let her go.

“You wouldn’t be planning on running, would you?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Oh God, I don’t believe I let—”

“Let it happen? Don’t lie. You wanted it as much as I did.”

Well, shit. This had gone far enough. “Max…”

“Don’t deny it. Don’t regret it, I sure the hell don’t.”

Tasha shivered at the intense expression in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let her make some flip remark and escape this time. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I won’t deny I enjoyed it, but we never should have started in the first place.”

“We wanted to.”

She wiggled and this time he released her. “Yeah, well, want and should aren’t the same thing.”

“You want to have a baby by yourself. Should you?”

Ice replaced the lingering heat in her veins. “That’s not fair.”

“My point exactly.”

She looked away as Max adjusted his erection, stifling the impulse to offer to help him out. No matter how pissed off his final words made her, the desire to caress his naked skin under her fingers remained. He’d lit a fire inside and one orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy it. His hand touched her arm and tugged her to face him. A gentle touch under her chin brought their gazes back in line and he smiled. One part trouble, three parts sin.

“I wanted to prove that we are attracted to each other no matter how much you’ve denied it. You’re right—it’s not enough to build a relationship on, but it’s not a bad place to start.”

All the fight faded from her. Between last night and this morning, between her rickety future plans and her dismal past agendas, she had nothing left inside right now.

“This was not how I imagined spending today,” she admitted.

The cheeky grin she’d seen so often at Turner family events broke across his face. “I had planned on joining a gaming marathon, but this is far more exciting.”

She wanted to roll her eyes. Him and his damn computers. “Sorry to have dragged you away from world domination.”

“You know the Turners. There’ll be another chance to play soon enough.”

Max released his hold on her arm and retreated slowly. Cool air wafted between them and chilled her body. Something inside her heart ached as well. She wasn’t supposed to want another person to keep her warm. She’d thought she was past that.

Tasha glanced outside at her future backyard. The clearing crew had managed to leave the big oak tree like she’d requested. One limb stretched horizontally, perfect for a tire swing down the road. It would be somewhere safe for a child to play while she watched out the window, or while she pushed them. Suddenly some of the murky details in the fantasy she’d been dreaming filled in. A child with dark hair, red highlights shining in the sun, and a mischievous smile. She caught her breath at the image of child like Max.