Reality Check

28. Hacking & Hacking

"How do you want it?" Max murmurs into my ear.

A flutter of tingles drips down my neck. "Make love to me," I breathe.

Since our discussion (if you can call it that) about my fantasies, Max has been asking how I want to have sex before things get hot and heavy. It's sweet. He lets me choose if I want something a little rougher than usual or if I want it slow. The only times he decides are when he insists on making love to me. He never asks for rough, even though I know he loves it.

So do I, but sometimes I just want that intimacy, you know?

Today is one of those days. I can't help but feel a little insecure about our relationship now that we're off the Enlisted set and out of Coral Beach. It's a whole different world out here. There's a lot less ocean, for one. We're also not in a little reality TV bubble anymore, so there's that as well.

I recline on my bed, happy it's larger than the bunkbed in New York we'll be sharing a couple days from now. Max follows, propping himself onto his elbows and hovering over me. The inch of space between our bodies is one too many.

"Come," I whisper, gripping his tee and pulling.

He lowers his head slowly, and I rise to meet his lips. It's a slow kiss. I'm savoring his taste and the feel of his lips. Let me tell you, Max has the best lips in the world. They're soft and full, but they're also strong, if lips can be strong. When ours connect, mine mold to the shape of his. I love it.

He's strong and assertive, but he lets me take the reins when I want. Well, most of the time. Sometimes we battle it out. That doesn't happen when we're making love, though. When we make love, our movements are synchronized. The chemistry between us dominates, not either of us.

Gently, Max rests his body on mine. I part my legs, allowing him to press against my center. As he deepens the kiss, I run my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly the way he likes. Our tongues dance together. Already, sparks are igniting. It's not the type of fire that has us tearing off each other's clothes in a frenzy. This flame is steady, a slow burn, because when we make love, we take our time.

I wrap a leg around Max's waist, and he slides off my body and onto his side. I take his place on top, straddling and descending upon him. We kiss, swapping caresses and soft nibbles. I only break the kiss to allow Max to pull my shirt over my head. He traces the outline of my bra with both hands, finally meeting them together in the back to unclasp the hooks.

My lips find his neck while his hands explore my chest, thumbs stroking the sides of my breasts. Every touch is like he's feeling my body for the first time. I kiss up his neck, landing at the spot by his ear that makes him groan. When I elicit the noise my ears crave, I move my lips to his, needing to taste him again.

He's rock hard beneath me, and I'm overcome with want. I rest on my side. He takes the hint, removing his shirt and unbuttoning my jeans while I undo his.

"God, Mia," he groans.

I'm soaked through my panties, as per usual. "I love the way y—oh!"

Max has the best lips. He also has the best fingers. I gasp and moan into his shoulder while he plays with me, sliding his fingers between my folds. I can barely think straight. All I feel is his erection pressing against my thighs, his fingers drawing circles at my center.

"Max," I whimper. I'm too aroused to not have him inside of me.

"Tell me what you want, Mia."

I wrap my hands around his length and move them in the rhythm he loves, trying to guide him to my entrance.