Revved to the Maxx (Reynold's Restorations 1) - Page 62

I searched her eyes, the anxiety evident. The need to erase the worry tore through me, rendering me silent for a moment. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to.

Our gazes were locked, a battle of wills happening between us. She expected me to argue, yell, or tell her I disliked it. Demand she take it down. If I did that, she would yell back and call me ungrateful and a grump, then storm away, mad and hurt.

Except, that wasn’t what was going to happen.

“We’re talking about that new logo.”

“Okay.”

I drew in a long breath. “Good job, Red.”

Her eyes widened, and before she could react, I hauled her against my chest, and I kissed her.

Chapter 17

MAXX

Everything I had pushed out of my mind when it came to kissing Red came roaring back to life once my mouth was on hers again. She was life. Air. Passion. I lifted her, amazed at how well we fit together. She wrapped her arms around my neck, twisting the ends of my hair between her fingers, whimpering as my tongue stroked along hers. She was so right in my arms.

And completely wrong.

With a low groan, I released her, setting her on her feet. Slowly her arms slipped from my neck, and she opened her eyes, meeting mine.

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“I don’t recall asking you—”

I cut her off with my mouth again. I loved it when she was spitting fire at me, all indignant and pissed off.

She bit my bottom lip, yelping as I smacked her ass then lifted her back into my arms. She wrapped her legs around me, and I palmed her ass. She had a great ass, fitting into my hands perfectly.

I stumbled in the direction of the waiting room, sitting down heavily on one of the newly refurbished benches. Red straddled my lap, sliding her hands into my hair, grinding down on my aching cock. I slipped my hand under the loose shirt she was wearing, tracing along her spine, my thumbs stroking the edges of her full breasts. She gasped into my mouth when I dipped under the lace and my fingers found and stroked her nipples. She pulled back, her breathing erratic.

“What are you doing?”

“Do I really need to explain this to you, Red?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You keep calling me Red. You only call me that when you’re about to, you know…”

I lifted one eyebrow. “You know?” I repeated.

Her voice dropped. “When you’re about to fuck me.”

Charly rarely ever swore. Hearing her say the word fuck did something to me. I grinned at her.

“Keep grinding on me like that, and there’s no doubt one of us is going to be fucked.”

She jumped up, slamming her hands on her hips. “If you think you’re going to defile me in this clean waiting room, Maxx Reynolds, you have another think coming, mister. Gosh dang it, I worked hard to get this room ready, and you wanna lube up your dipstick and mess it all up?”

I gaped at her tirade, trying to quell the quirking of my lips at her vehemence.

Defile her? Had we returned to historical times?

“I mean, it’s a great dipstick and all, but have a little respect.” She turned and flounced out of the room, strutting across the garage. I swear to god she was sashaying those hips of hers far more than necessary.

It didn’t help my erect…dipstick.

Then the humor of the entire situation hit me, and I began to laugh. Huge guffaws of mirth burst from my mouth. I dropped my head back against the vinyl seat and let it out. The stress of the last few days, the amazement at what she had done while I was away. The instant passion I felt whenever she was close.

How it felt to see her standing in my house, looking as if she should be there. Greeting me every day when I walked in the door. The shift in my chest when I saw what she had accomplished in the garage. Her quiet desperation she couldn’t hide from me, hoping I would like it.

And how fucking right she felt in my arms. Under my mouth.

I had been right. Red hadn’t straightened my world. She had blown it to smithereens.

The question was—did I want to try to fix it?

When I finally stopped laughing, I walked around the garage again, noticing more details. The wipe-off boards, the price list on the wall. I tried not to smirk when I noticed that although the services were neatly written out, the prices had not yet been added. Red was waiting for me to tell her what I wanted those to be. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to take it all in.

How the hell had she done all this in less than a week? Plus the changes to the house? Another thought occurred to me. How the hell had she paid for all this? Even if she used all two hundred bucks in the petty cash, that wouldn’t even cover paint.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Reynold's Restorations Suspense
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