It’s magic, wonderful and terrifying all at once, because one kiss and I’m addicted. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to take me apart.

  I grip his collar more tightly, jerk him closer, and then I feel him.

  All of him.

  He presses his big frame against me, and the outline of his erection is like a whole new world—hard, insistent, hungry. His kisses build in intensity even as he lets go of my face and he explores my body. He slides one hand down to the neckline of my shirt, then over the soft fabric toward my belly, making me tremble. When he curls the other hand around my hip, the sound I let out is dangerously loud.

  A warning bell.

  I break the kiss, tip my forehead to the door. An invitation. We don’t need words. The second I open the entryway door, he’s saying yes by following me. I walk up the steps to the second floor, him behind me every step of the way, our desire pulsing in the air of my building.

  I reach my place, unlock it, then drop my bag and phone on the table in a rush. I switch on one light in the living room, but I dim it. I don’t plan on taking off my shirt, but it’s easier if I don’t have to explain anything tonight. Sometimes, I don’t want to explain anything. It’ll be easier if this is mostly dark in case he accidentally sees my scars, or the ones on my left hip.

  “I didn’t think you’d kiss like that,” I admit.

  He shuts the door and moves me against the wall right next to it, staring down at me with those cool eyes. “You’ve thought about kissing me?”

  An ungodly amount of times. No point pretending anything else now. “I have.”

  “How did I kiss you? When you got off to me?”

  A laugh bursts from me. “I didn’t say I got off to you.”

  He shoots me a closed-mouth smile. “You didn’t have to say it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why do you even talk?”

  He smiles wider as he cages me against the wall, then kisses a path up my neck, traveling to my ear. “Want to know why I kiss you like this?”

  My breath comes surprisingly fast. “Yes,” I say, desperate. I’m dying for his answer.

  “Because you need to be savored, Everly. Because I would never rush things with you. Because you are not a quickie.”

  His words thrum through my whole body, making me tingle everywhere as I meet his gaze. “What am I?”

  He pulls back and locks his gaze with mine, his eyes filled with what looks like raw honesty. “You’re a bad idea, and I still fucking want you so much.”

  Reality slams into me. We should stop. We really should. But Max is leaning against the wall, resting on his forearm, looking down at me like I’m impossible to walk away from.

  Say yes.

  “This can’t happen again,” I say as much for him as for me.

  “I know.”

  “This is one time only.”

  “It sure is.”

  I’m done talking so I reach for his waist and jerk him against me. I take the lead, and I’m not patient like he is. I’m hungry. No—starving is more like it. I kiss him like a greedy girl. I grow hotter with each press of our lips, each graze of his hands. A pulse beats everywhere in me, most insistently between my thighs.

  I can’t wait much longer for whatever is coming next. Ideally, me.

  When he coasts his big palm down my thigh, I grab his hand and cover it with mine. We break the kiss, and his ice blue eyes turn to fire as I guide his hand under my skirt, then up my right thigh.

  His mouth falls open on a groan. “You’re so fucking soft.”

  I nibble on the corner of my lips, then feeling bold, I say, “And wet.”

  His groan is carnal as he glides his fingers across the damp panel of my lacy panties. “Soaked is more like it,” he says.

  I smile and nod. Just for tonight, I’m done fighting this desire. The morning will be a different story but tomorrow will take care of itself. Right now, I desperately want him to take care of me. I want his fingers deep inside me. I want him to get me off. “You should make it up to me,” I say, a little demanding.

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Make what up?”

  “The way you ruined my date.”

  “But I’m not sorry,” he says, refusing to back down on this count.

  “I don’t need you to apologize,” I tell him. “I want something else. Something better than an apology.”

  “Tell me,” he says, his gaze never breaking mine.

  I take my time. Let the moment stretch, then say, “You talked a big game about how a date should go. Why don’t you show me?”

  Like he’s hit all the jackpots in Vegas, he says, “This is how a date should end.” He seals his mouth onto mine and kisses me hard. Ruthlessly. A bossy man once more, owning my mouth with his merciless kiss as his fingers slide over the scrap of lace between my legs. His mouth is ferocious, devouring me as he tugs at the fabric, then pulls it aside.

  The second he touches me, my body shouts with joy. I’ve needed this so much. Wanted this from him. I break the kiss, my head falling back against the wall. “Oh god,” I gasp.

  His eyes are dark, and the muscles in his neck tense. “You’re so fucking soft and wet,” he says, praising me as he strokes my pussy. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  The compliments light me up, making my skin tingle.

  He pushes up my skirt. For a second, I worry. But he’s too hungry to notice my hip and, of course, the light’s too low to see anything. I’m not in the mood for explanations.

  Max doesn’t seem to be in the mood for anything except for chasing my pleasure. He grabs my thigh and hitches it up against his hip. Like that, he fingers me, with one leg wrapped around his hip. Pushing me against the wall, pinning me, and touching me.

  He slows the kiss as he slides one finger inside me. My breath hitches, then turns into a raspy moan as he fills me with one finger, curling it just so. My stomach tightens.

  “More,” I whisper, holding onto his shoulders as he touches me.

  “Anything you want.”

  He adds another finger, and I’m fuller, but not full enough. “More,” I urge.

  He complies, fucking me with three fingers while teasing my clit with his thumb. Bright lights spark behind my eyelids. Electricity crackles over my skin. Pressure builds in me, the urgent need to come as he hunts down my release with his talented fingers, fucking me and crooking them just so till I’m at the tipping point, my world breaking into bliss as he sends me over the edge.

  Before I can even catch my breath he eases out his fingers, lowers my leg to the floor, then drops to his knees. He bunches up my skirt all the way to my waist. I hold my breath, but the scars on my hip are the most faded, and he’d really have to be looking to see them. Right now, he’s doing. He tugs down my panties and slides them over one shoe, not even bothering to take them off all the way. They sit at one ankle.

  “Need to taste you. Can’t fucking wait,” he mutters.

  The need in his voice makes my legs shake. Makes me hotter, wetter.

  “Please do it. Please.”

  “I’ve been needing to eat you for so long,” he rasps as he flicks his tongue against my clit, groaning savagely from the first taste.

  He’s on a mission and before I’ve stopped moaning from my first orgasm, he seals his mouth to me, then French kisses the fuck out of my pussy. I curl my hands around his skull, my fingers roping through his thick, wild mane of hair, my nails scraping him.

  He growls as he eats me, his tongue stroking me deeply, passionately. Rocking into his face, I fuck his mouth, his beard, his lips with a wild abandon I haven’t felt in ages.

  Or really, ever.

  He grabs my ass, gripping my flesh tightly, tugging me impossibly closer, then thrusting his tongue deep inside me.

  I scream from the sharp, hot spikes of pleasure. From the filthy delight of his tongue inside me. The grumpy goalie is tongue-fucking me against the wall as I grab his head tighter, pull him closer, and shamelessly chase a second orgasm on his face.

  It comes out of nowhere. Slamming into me. Shattering me with a white-hot blur. I cry out, panting and murmuring for a good long time. I can’t see straight or even walk but the next thing I know, Max is scooping me up and carrying me through my living room, down the hall, and finding my bedroom. Gently, he sets me on my bed, takes off my shoes and presses a tender kiss to my forehead before he whispers, “That’s how you end a first date.”

  Then, he leaves.

  I’m too sex-drunk to even think about what just happened. It’s not until twenty minutes later, when I’ve cleaned up and changed into sleep shorts and a cami, that I start the hunt for my wet panties.

  But I can’t find them near the door. Or anywhere. Because…Max must have taken them.

  21

  THE CAT JUDGE

  Max

  Ten out of ten do not recommend driving with a boner.

  Don’t ask me how I get home. Pretty sure I drive, but my mind is not on the road. At last, I peel into the parking lot of my building, turn off the engine, and march into the elevators. Swiping my card key for the penthouse, I’m damn grateful no one is in the lift.

  I breathe out hard, trying to think about anything but the desire that’s got me in a chokehold. An interminable forty-five-second elevator ride later, I’m on the top floor, stalking down the hall, and unlocking the door to my home.

  I’m too amped up to make it to my bedroom. The second the door clangs shut, I’m undoing the buckle of my belt and crossing the living room to the couch. I sink into the suede cushion as I unzip my pants and take out my demanding dick.

  I can’t think.

  I can’t focus.

  I don’t even turn on a goddamn light.

  I can’t do a thing but replay those twenty minutes up against the wall in Everly’s home. I grip my cock, stroking it with purpose. There are no lazy tugs here. No test strokes to see if I’m in the mood. I am nothing but in the mood right now.

  As I curl a fist around my cock, I jam my other hand into my pocket and take out my prize.

  My reward. But these I want to see, so I bark out, “Hey, Alexa, turn on the living room light.”

  The helpful hub complies, flicking on the overhead.

  Yes. Fuck yes. They’re light aqua with a delicate rose embroidery thingy all over the sheer fabric, and barely anything covering the ass. Just a fantastic thong that goes to the victor. My pulse pounds as I bring the still-wet panel to my nose. “Fuuuuuck,” I rumble, inhaling the scent of her desire.

  I jerk faster, my dick throbbing ruthlessly in my hand as I close my eyes and let the flavors of her fill my mind. She smells fucking incredible—like lace and longing. Like all my dirty dreams. Like her, turned on by me.

  I shuttle my fist faster, from base to tip, squeezing out a drop of pre-come at the head, using that liquid to ease the path.

  My jaw ticks with all this pent-up tension as I fuck my fist and inhale Everly’s panties. I can’t stop sniffing them. Don’t want to stop inhaling her arousal as I take care of this insistent erection that’s been begging for attention for the last hour.

  My thighs tighten. My head spins with lust. My bones shake. I stroke faster and faster still as a filthy, beautiful loop plays in my head.

  Her fantastic fucking lips. The sweetness of her mouth, the flowery perfume on her collarbone, the way she melted into my kiss. The soft, tempting taste of her lips as I held her in my arms.

  The way she fucked my hand as much as I fucked her.

  I bring the damp panel of her panties even closer to my nostrils, catching another intoxicating whiff of her.

  Heat roars low in my stomach. This is so fucking necessary. I can’t last another minute without this release. I’m too wound up with want. And I can’t stand how much I want her.

  One more inhale. “Fuck it.”

  Letting go of my dick for a second, I switch the fabric to my right hand, turning them inside out. Then I grip my dick with the cotton panel.

  They’re still a little wet from her, and the idea of getting off with her arousal fries my brain. It short-circuits my entire body. It sends me spinning. I fuck my fist harder with the sheer lace and cotton, jerking and stroking till my thoughts blank out and my vision blurs.

  I’m grunting as sparks burst before my eyes. Then punching my hips and spilling all over my hand and her expensive panties.

  It’s so wrong.

  I can’t even catch my breath for a long time.

  After, my eyes float open finally, and I reconnect to the earth. I swing my gaze down to my hand. I’ve ruined the lace. But I smirk at the mess.

  Worth it. Fucking worth it.

  Then, I blink. “The fuck?”

  Athena’s perched on the coffee table across from me, staring sharply with unblinking green eyes.

  “Don’t judge me,” I mutter.

  She turns the other way, lifting a haughty, furry chin.

  “You saw nothing,” I tell her.

  She twitches her tail more. Judging me. Fucking judging me.

  But then again, I’m sitting on my couch with my pants down, my dick out, holding a pair of the world’s sexiest panties covered in my come.

  I’d judge me too.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve showered and cleaned up. After I hang up the fluffy bath towel next to the rainfall shower, I pad across the soft carpet in my bedroom suite and enter the walk-in closet. I grab a pair of black boxer briefs from a drawer and pull them on, then head to bed. I sink down on the soft gray duvet on the king-size bed.

  I yawn, relaxed at last. But even though we have a game tomorrow, it’s not bedtime yet.

  Settling onto the pillows, I grab my phone, the lights of the city flickering from beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  Time for some detective work. There’s no brand name on the tag. Just a size. No way am I going to ask Everly what brand that was. Instead, I google aqua sheer panties covered in roses and visit seven different lingerie shops online before I find one that looks right.

  “Bingo,” I say. Then I place an order for rush delivery tomorrow afternoon.

  I close the browser and hop over to my text messages, opening the thread with Everly. I start to tap out a message, letting her know to be on the lookout for a package.

  But then, screw it. I’d rather surprise her.

  I set my phone down, blow out a very satisfied sigh, and park my hands behind my head. I’m sated.

  Well, for now.

  There’s a soft sound, and I turn to the right. A quiet furball slinks across the bed, and curls up next to my neck. In seconds, she’s purring and I’m forgiven.

  In the morning, I’m pouring a cup of coffee in the kitchen while texting with my dad about bagels. He’s started sending me daily pics of them, and I don’t know why but I fucking love pics of bagels from my parents. Looks delish, I respond to today’s so-called Bagel of the Day, when a new text blinks up at me from my phone. A damning text.

  Everly: You took my panties.

  I down some coffee, letting it wake me up before I dictate a reply.

  Max: Is there a question in there?

  Everly: I can’t believe you took my panties.

  Max: That’s still not a question.

  Everly: Why did you take my panties?

  Well, that answer is easy, so I give it to her.

  Max: Because I wanted them.

  “What is that?” Asher asks as he slides into the passenger seat of my car on the way to morning skate.

  “What is what?”

  He tips his chin toward me, peering at…my face. “Is that…a smile you’re wearing?”

  I scoff. “Fuck no.”

  “Dude. I think you’re smiling,” he says as he buckles in.

  “Watch it, Callahan,” I warn him as I pull into the light traffic on California Street.

  “Did you find a lucky penny this morning? Wait. I bet you found a whole twenty in the dryer and now you’re gonna take us out to lunch?” He presses his hands together in mock prayer.

  “You’re a cheap date. When was the last time you got lunch for one person for less than twenty bucks, let alone a crew?”

  “So it was a hundo. Excellent. I suggest we get tacos. You, me, Bryant, and Falcon,” he says, then flashes me a grin.

  I point at him before I turn at the light, like I’ve caught him in the act. “That on your pie hole? That’s a smile. Me? I don’t smile.”

  “Right.” He lowers his voice to a faux whisper. “Your makeover is working. Admit it. This is Max 2.0. Watch as he helps little old ladies cross the street. Witness as he sings ‘Happy Birthday’ at the old folks’ home. Grab a seat in the front row as he knits blankets for puppies at the shelter.”

  I growl again, then stab the button on the console. Thankfully, this time a new tune plays from Wesley’s “take-no-prisoners pre-game warm-up” playlist—an Arctic Monkeys tune. I crank the volume to full blast. “Do I Wanna Know” shuts up Asher for the rest of the short drive to the arena. I pull into the players’ lot next to Wesley, who’s getting out of his vehicle at the same time as we are.

  Asher calls out to him, “Dude, Lambert is happy. You know what that means?”

  I groan, shaking my head. Asher is a relentless shit-stirrer. He’s also unfairly emotionally astute, so I’ve got to be on my guard. For Everly’s sake, especially.

  Wesley looks from me to Asher, as if he’s assessing us. “The aliens took him yesterday, so we need a new goalie for the game?”

  “Exactly,” Asher says, then claps my shoulder. “Or dude got laid last night.”

  I won’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “Did you see the Cougars picked up Martinez after all? Dude wasn’t a free agent for long,” I say, dangling baseball trade talk to distract him, like he’s Athena and I’m waving a fake bird toy in front of him. Maybe he won’t put two and two together about my good mood. Don’t need the scrutiny right now.