Chapter 59 Anticipation
Veronica's POV:
"Yes," he said simply. "You can touch me."
Then he reached down, grabbed the hem of his soaking tank top, and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
I forgot how to breathe.
It wasn't like I hadn't seen his bare torso before. I had. That day when I'd stumbled into his room, when things had gotten heated between us, when his fingers had explored places that still made me flush to think about. But this time was different.
This time he was wet... and glistening of droplets...
And it was driving me absolutely crazy...
I reached out, my palm trembling slightly as I touched the droplets scattered across his chest.
The water was cool against my fingertips, but his skin beneath was warm, almost hot.
The contrast sent shivers through me. I kept tracing the path of a water droplet...
Everything felt heightened in me, more intense. Or maybe it was just that I was finally admitting to myself how much I wanted this—wanted him.
My fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my palm.
"Veronica," Max breathed, and there was something raw in his voice that made me look up.
His eyes were dark now... it was pure want. It was the kind of look that should have made me nervous... and made me pull back.
But instead, it made me lean in closer.
One of his hands came up to cover mine, pressing my palm flat against his chest where I could feel his heart absolutely racing.
The rapid rhythm matched my own... like we were connected by something more than just touch.
"We have a date this afternoon," he said, sounding rough... and strained. "And if you keep touching me like that, we're not going to make it out of this bedroom."
The way he said it... made me freeze.
This was Max. Mysterious, unpredictable Max, who always kept me on the edge, always left me guessing.
He'd touched me before, that night in his car, his fingers had explored me... showed me a trail of what he could offer...
I wondered if he would do more than that this time. More than fingers and whispering words in my ear... as I moaned his name to my bliss.
Or should I make the first move? Should I be bold, pull him down to me, close the distance between us?
It was all so confusing, this push and pull, this dance we were doing.
Then he moved, and all my questions scattered.
His hand slid from mine to my waist, fingers curling around my hip.
He pulled me closer—not gently, not asking permission—just took what he wanted.
My body collided with his, my chest pressing against his bare torso, my stomach flush against his visible bulge—
Oh.
Oh god.
I felt him against my stomach, hard... through the thin fabric of his board shorts.
That was the evidence of his desire... of how much he wanted me, and he was pressing insistently for where our bodies met.
Heat crept through me... my face was burning, my thoughts scattering like startled birds from bushes.
Just like that, I felt completely lost in sensation.
"You feel that, don't you," he whispered against my lips... his lips so close to mine... they almost brushed.
I couldn't speak at all. Or even come up with an answer... I could barely breathe...
"This is how much I always want you, Veronica." His tone... I felt through my entire body. "Every moment I'm around you. Every time you look at me. Every time you say my name."
His fingers tightened on my waist, holding me against him, making sure I felt every inch of what my presence did to him.
"But not right now," he continued, and there was something almost cruel in the way he said it. He was teasing and taunting me... instead of giving me what I needed.
"Anticipation is what makes this intense." He smirks, like a villain from a movie.
My cheeks burned hotter... I felt embarrassment and frustration and desire at the same time. Why was he doing this to me?!
"Are you serious?!" The words burst out of me... slightly desperate.
Here I was, practically melting in his arms, and he was talking about anticipation? About waiting?!
"Of course." Max pulled back just enough to look down at me, and the smirk on his face now widened... he was absolutely wicked. "I don't kid when it comes to this."
Then, before I could protest or grab him or do any of the desperate things my body was screaming at me to do, he took a step back.
The loss of contact felt almost physical, like something being ripped away.
I swayed slightly, my hands still outstretched toward him, my body protesting the sudden absence of his heat.
Max stood there, shirtless and still damp, looking like every fantasy I'd ever had and some I hadn't known I could have. The rose quartz bracelet on his wrist caught the light... which looked too odd on him... as he was only reflecting the masculine intensity... of a sexy man.
He was smirking at me, clearly enjoying my flustered state, the way my chest was heaving, the way I couldn't seem to find words.
"I'll see you at two," he said casually, like he hadn't just completely wrecked me with a simple touch and whispered words.
Then he turned and walked out of my bedroom, leaving me standing there alone, trembling and burning.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I collapsed back onto the bed, my hands covering my face.
What the hell just happened?
One minute I was helping with dishes, the next I was cutting my skin, and then—then Max was shirtless and wet and pressing me against him and whispering devastating things... before walking away like it was nothing.
Anticipation makes it intense, he'd said.
I laughed, the sound slightly hysterical, muffled by my hands.
And Max knew it. That smirking, tattooed, impossibly attractive bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I was beginning to understand why people said he was dangerous.
He wanted me all desperate and needy... so he could ruin me to his will...