maybe it could be that simple.
Just like it had seemed the one night he’d looked at her like that before. Natasha had tagged along at one of Alya’s events, and both of them had had more than their share to drink as the night went on. Later, after Max followed them back to the apartment, with Alya passed out in her bed, Natasha had led him to the door. She had felt his gaze on her in the car, and she’d felt it again in their hallway, hotter, more intense.
When Natasha had reached the door to let him out, she’d turned around, and Max’s half-lidded eyes had been so hungry. Like he’d wanted a taste, even though he shouldn’t. She had worn a red dress that showed plenty of cleavage and smiled as his eyes dipped for a close-up view. Oh, God, she had been tempted.
I’m all for indulging with you, sweetheart, but you’ve had waaaayyy too much to drink to go down that road tonight.
His words had been soft, maybe even regretful, but they’d been enough to yank her out of her lusty stupor. Yeah, he had turned her down for good reasons, but the next time she saw him, it was as if that almost kiss had never happened. Like he had lost interest and moved on. Apparently not.
Was she really entertaining a hookup with Max again? Come on, brain. Don’t give up on me now. His dates had a tendency to wind up on the pages of gossip rags...though there wasn’t much chance of that with one little hookup, right? Or two or three, if they were spending a couple days together on a tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef...
Time for a last-ditch attempt to approach this rationally. She tilted her head and tried for a skeptical tone. “It just doesn’t seem to fit into your rules for women.”
“Is that what you think?” He smiled. “Interesting. What are my rules?”
She quirked a brow at him. “Number one, the woman must show her wares on the market, preferably tall, with long hair and big breasts. Number two, she must love red carpet events.” With each number she ticked off on her fingers, his smile fell a little. “Number three, she must have zero expectations the next day because you don’t do repeat performances. You want me to keep going?”
He was silent for a moment, almost as if he were at a loss for words. No way. Not possible.
She gave him a mock-serious, wide-eyed look. “Did I manage to offend Max Jensen, the world’s most laid-back guy?”
His face broke into his signature smile. “I’m flattered that you’re paying so much attention to my sex life.”
Heat crept up her neck. Of course he’d see it from that angle. And clearly he was right. “It’s hard to ignore when it’s on the front page of a magazine,” she said, her voice a little short. Okay, maybe she had felt tiny twinges of jealousy seeing him with all those other women, but that wasn’t why she had brought up the topic. Natasha twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, searching for a way to explain her hesitancy.
“A few years ago, Alya bought me one of those ridiculous dating advice books as a gag gift, but I read it anyway. You know why?” she asked. Max shook his head. “Because the book promised to help me find The Three S’s. And two of the three are what I wanted the most—safety and stability.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Is the third one sex?”
Humor tugged at her lips once again. It was impossible to stay serious around him. “Nope. Status.”
That answer earned a frown from him. “How did it work out for you?”
“I tried their methods and got bored.” She gave him a wry smile, adding, “And tired of ending up on dates in pubs, pretending to like rugby.”
Max didn’t smile back. He just watched her with an expression she couldn’t read. Then he sighed.
Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the table. He gave her his most serious gaze, and his voice did that sexy rumble when he spoke. “Rugby is a great sport, Natasha.”
She bit her lip, but she couldn’t resist smiling. Her eyes went to his arms, inches from hers, the muscles, the scars. Okay, maybe she liked one thing about rugby. The marks of Max’s own years in the sport definitely added to his appeal.
The point was that despite not needing to follow those rules of dating to a T, they’d solidified for her what she was after in a relationship—The Three S’s led to the exact opposite of the explosive, short-lived flings her mother had.
He reached for her, his fingertips brushing over her cheek. He was so close, and for a moment she was almost sure he was going to kiss her. But then his hand fell away, and he cleared his throat.
“Maybe it’s time to set those S’s aside for a bit...for a few days on Green Island...and let me help you focus on my favorite S, which is much more fun,” he said softly. “Maybe you’re into me because I don’t follow any of that dating advice rubbish.”
Her face heated, but she leveled her gaze at him. “Who says I’m into you?”
* * *
Max threw back his head and laughed. “I say you’re into me. But I’m very into you, too.”
He watched her closely for her reaction as he said those last words. Hell, yes, she was really considering his proposition. The longer the silence drew out, the more the charge between them built. His entire body ached for this woman; he’d wanted this for so long, but there was no way in hell he was going to push it. He had to get this right and she needed to be fully on board.
The heat in her eyes was unmistakable, but lines of uncertainty still creased her forehead. Finally, she sat up in her chair. “I’m not into animal mating videos.”
He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. Everyone’s got their thing.”
She rolled her eyes, but the worry in her expression was melting.
“I have my things, too,” he added, his voice huskier.
Sitting so close, the urge to kiss her was building. Just a taste. Not to sway her, just to test this attraction crackling between them. Slowly, he lifted his hand to trace the line of her jaw, the slope of her neck. Soft, warm breath came faster from her parted lips. She didn’t move. Just stared at him with unguarded curiosity. And heat.
Max slid his chair up to hers, and when he got close enough, he opened his legs around hers. Natasha’s gaze moved slowly down his body, openly studying him, chest, biceps, stomach...her eyes flicked down between his legs, and he smiled. She was definitely considering her options.
But none of this would happen tonight. Nothing that could get mixed up in the vulnerability that her disastrous date could have left. Just a hint of what they could have on Green Island. Even if his dick was already ten steps ahead, the eager bastard.
He rested his hand around the back of her neck and leaned forward. His lips brushed against hers. Her breath hitched, and she stilled, so he waited, barely touching. Her mouth was soft and sweet, and goddamn, she smelled good. Like chocolate and strawberries and temptation.
Then she rested a hand on his thigh and shifted forward so their bodies were even closer. She licked her lips, her tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. His dick responded as if that was a handwritten invitation to the party. Still, Max waited. Slowly, she leaned in. Her wet, warm mouth pressed against his, parting a little, catching his top lip first, then his bottom. So he kissed her, tasting more this time, letting his mouth linger on the tangy, seductive flavor of dessert and desire on her lips. So much desire.
A sigh. A ragged breath. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and her hand tightened on his thigh. If she slid it a little higher—no. Not tonight.
Instead Max focused on the kiss. She tilted her head for a slow, sensual dance with her mouth. He answered, using each stroke of his tongue to show her all the things he could do to her, all the ways he could please her. Then her kisses turned greedy, full of pure, unleashed want, and he groaned and went for more. Plans, even thoughts, faded,