fine,” she said. “You just do your thing.”
He took her at her word. She heard the scratch of pencil on paper and closed her eyes briefly. She felt rattled, off balance.
She forced her gaze to the back wall, concentrating on a crack in the plaster.
This is Max, she reminded herself. Your friend. He held you while you slept last night. He’s always been there for you.
Slowly, by small degrees, she relaxed. There was no reason for her foolish awareness. Not with Max, of all people. He was like a brother to her. Always had been, always would be.
MAX TIGHTENED HIS GRIP on his pencil as he attempted to commit the curve of Maddy’s hip to paper. His gaze kept sliding from the subtle arc of her waist down the flat planes of her belly to the curls at the juncture of her thighs. A neat little patch, waxed into submission, just enough curls there to hint at the secrets they concealed.
His hard-on throbbed. He still couldn’t believe he’d let Maddy bulldoze him into this situation. But she’d been so determined to have her way. And he hadn’t been strong enough to resist the temptation she’d offered. Back in the days when they’d lived together, he’d sketched her. Lying on the couch, asleep. Dancing, the expression on her face full of joy. Laughing, her eyes closed, her head thrown back.
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