“Believe me, you are.”
“But you can’t take responsibility for every single person you meet, right?”
“Mm,” he hummed, “of course not.”
“Max.” She stopped and used his hand to force him to turn toward her. “Do you take responsibility for every person you meet?”
“No!” he said with a laugh. A charming, warm laugh exactly like one she’d heard from him before. When he was being a big, fat liar.
“Look, we’re on an island. We don’t know each other. After the end of this week, we’ll never see each other again. So you may as well tell me the truth. When will you have the chance to spill your guts without any consequences? Don’t think. Just tell me.” He hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“Yes!” he said on a rush of air. “Yes, I feel responsible for everyone I meet.”
“But… That’s crazy. How can you do that?”
“I can’t. It’s…” His wide shoulders slumped. “Chloe, it’s exhausting.”
“Oh, Max.” She sighed at the utter weariness in his voice.
“It is crazy. I know that. I see that, but I can’t stop it.” As he spoke, she could hear herself in his words. The desperation and tiredness and helplessness she’d been feeling for weeks. It was all there in his deep, rich voice, coming from this confident man with strong shoulders that looked like they could carry the weight of the world. And did, apparently.
“Max.” She sighed, her fingers tightening in his. Forgetting for a moment that he might not even be attracted to her, Chloe leaned toward him, pushing up on her tiptoes, feeling the sand give way and squeeze through her toes. She felt all this, but his mouth was all she could see, all she could think of. His mouth and the sad curve of his lips, and the slight, surprised parting when she’d almost reached him.
At the last second, just as doubt reared its ugly head, he finally moved to meet her. That sad mouth didn’t feel sad at all. It felt…comforting. Warm. And definitely interested.
For two heartbeats, his lips simply pressed hers gently, but then Chloe felt the faint rush of Max inhaling, and his arms curved around her.
A brief moment of shock sizzled through her. Shock at being touched by a man who’d never touched her before. But when the surprise wore off, his hands were so solid and hot against her back, and she was no longer on her tiptoes. Max was holding her, his lips parting to taste her.
Chloe opened for him, and the first taste of Max drew a little sound of approval from her throat. An embarrassing sound, surely, but Max’s tongue rubbed against hers and she didn’t have time to be embarrassed. She was too busy being happy.
Oh, God, she was kissing a gorgeous man who was nearly a stranger. Chloe, who’d always been a good girl. Who should’ve been on her honeymoon this very week. She was rubbing her tongue into this man as he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer.
There was nowhere to put her arms but around his neck. And nothing to do with her hands but slide them into his hair.
And suddenly, despite everything, the night was perfect. The ocean rushed gently behind her, the wind danced over them, and they both held on tightly as they kissed and tasted and licked. If he was faking his interest, he was doing a damn good job of it. His hands moved restlessly against her back. He pulled her closer, until their bodies lined up. My God, he felt like one solid wall of muscle against her.
She was so focused on his chest and hips and thighs, Chloe hardly noticed the downward path of his hand. It felt cozy and right when he touched the small of her back, then a bit more exciting when his palm slid over her hip. She kissed him harder, caught up in the excitement of exploring hands and big shoulders.
But when he ventured farther south, his fingers curved over her ass, and Chloe remembered that she wasn’t wearing pants.
“Oh!” she gasped as she turned her head to the side. She meant to slow things down. She really did. But then Max’s lips touched her neck. His mouth closed over the very sensitive, secret spot just below her ear. And he sucked.
“God,” she groaned, knees shaking to uselessness. He’d found the chink in her lust armor. His teeth scraped the skin and he pulled her hips more tightly against his.
No, he definitely wasn’t faking. And she still wasn’t wearing pants.
“Max, I… Oh, that feels good. We should… Oh, I think we should…”
“Yeah,” he murmured, as if she’d said something intelligible. “Yeah, we should.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Chloe found herself being lowered to the sand. “You don’t like the sand!” she gasped, trying to decide if she was excited or panicked.
“I do now,” he murmured just before his mouth took hers again.
This was better. Way better. Now he was snug against her side, controlling the kiss, one knee resting atop her bare thigh, and Chloe decided it wasn’t panic welling up inside her. It was sweet, hot lust pooling beneath her skin like a fever.