He stayed inside me and leaned his forehead against mine as his breathing evened out. I placed light kisses against his jawline and ran my palm over his cheek.
“I think that I might love you, Max Kingsley,” I whispered.
I felt the grin before I actually saw it. Max leaned his head back and looked into my eyes.
“You say that now, with me buried inside you?” he asked teasingly.
“Oh my god, it’s not just because of that!” I said, pushing myself away from him. But Max held on tighter, pulling me close. He kissed along my neck, up my chin, and finally found my lips.
“I know that I love you, Isabella Esposito,” he said. I felt him stirring inside me, his cock twitching.
I grinned and narrowed my eyes as I shifted my hips, grinding myself against him.
“Fuck, baby, you really are going to be the death of me,” Max said. But he only put his arms back around me and walked us into the living room. I was thankful the cleaning crew hadn’t wiped down the windows; we could use all the grimy privacy we could get.
Max sat me down on my feet and slipped out of me. Within seconds he fanned out a clean drop cloth on the living floor, scooped me back up, laid me down, and settled himself in between my legs.
“I never want to leave this spot,” he said as he pushed himself back in.
His hands found my breasts and palmed them through the thin layer of my bralette. My nipples hardened at the touch, and I arched into him. This time was slower, and more intentional. Max’s eyes scanned my face and my body as he gently pushed himself inside me.
His fingers were slow as they danced over my clit, his tongue lazy as it explored my mouth and my neck. Max tugged the material of my bralette down and sighed as my breasts spilled out over the edge. His warm mouth was on them in an instant.
My second orgasm started slowly with a tingling in my toes and a tightness in my legs. Max didn’t let up on the pressure on my clit or the tugging on my nipples as I moaned into him. I squeezed around him in waves as the pleasure rolled through me.
“God, you feel so good as you come around me, baby,” Max said. “Let me feel you squeeze me.”
Max fucked me through the aftershocks, my soft screams filling the air of my empty living room. My chest was hot and my breath ragged as he found his release again, spilling inside me. He gave himself a minute before pulling out and lying back on the drop cloth next to me, his large hand thrown over his heaving chest.
“It’s going to take us three times as long to get through the demo if we keep taking breaks like this,” Max said.
I laughed and covered my face with my hands. “I couldn’t help it. You don’t know what you look like in those pants with a sledgehammer,” I replied.
“Oh, a working man, what does it mean for Miss Isabella?” he asked. “Noted,” he said, tapping his temple.
Max got up to grab tissues from the bathroom and handed me a water bottle. I gratefully accepted and chugged most of it. Dust and drywall clung to my hair, and I desperately wanted a hot shower. I also wanted Max to come back with me to my parents’ and join me in the shower. I don’t know what had gotten into me.
Perhaps admitting my anxieties to someone who wouldn’t judge me freed something in me. Maybe hearing that Max was here for everything on my to-do list and actually believed we’d make it happen allowed me to finally let my guard down.
Whatever it was, I was crossing my fingers that this feeling wouldn’t go away.
THIRTY-ONE
MAX
I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting to find when I walked through the brownstone’s doors on a random Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t Isabella slouched down in the hallway upstairs with tears running down her face.
“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” I asked, “What happened?” I slouched down beside her.
She sniffled and grinned up at me, relief flooding her face. I loved watching the calmness spread over her when she laid eyes on me. She treated me like her own security blanket, but she was my life force.
“We passed the first round of inspections,” she said, more tears spilling from her eyes. We’d been hard at work the last three months tearing down walls so new electricity and plumbing could come in. Those teams along with the floor refinishers had wrapped up last week and we’d been waiting on pins and needles for the go-ahead from the city to move on to the next phase.
“Okay, that’s great! Right?” I asked, confusion lacing my tone.
“Yeah, it’s great,” she said through more tears, “it means we can actually work on remodeling the bathrooms and the kitchen.”
“Okay, so why all the tears, baby?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her toward me.
