Chapter 103: The Best Kind of Trouble

Chapter 103: The Best Kind of Trouble
Valerie had meant to rest before dinner, but that thought died the moment Max stepped inside. The door had barely closed before he was kissing her. Her breath caught when his mouth trailed lower, his touch rough in places, careful in others—like he already knew her rhythm.
Valerie's skirt ended up somewhere on the floor. He’d tugged her panties down too, letting them drop to her ankles. She lay on the bed in just her blouse, the fabric clinging to her curves. Max pulled her tight against him, his shirt half-unbuttoned, tie loose and dangling around his neck, pants and briefs shoved down past his thighs, not fully off.
For a while, it was all groans, the sound of skin slapping together, and nothing else. When they finally came, it hit them hard, leaving them breathless, slick with sweat, and tangled in the sheets.
Now, just minutes later, Max turned onto his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her. There was a hint of disbelief in his smile, like he still couldn’t quite get over her.
“Every time, you prove me wrong,” he told her.
Valerie’s lashes lifted lazily. “About what?”
He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, still slightly swollen from his kiss. “That you’d eventually get enough of me.”
Her eyes dragged down his body, unapologetic. “Please. No woman in her right mind could ever get enough of you, Max.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re… insatiable, Val. I didn’t expect that from you.”
She gave a soft, tired, and breathy laugh. “You say that like I’m trouble.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you’re the best kind of trouble.”
Valerie turned toward him, a teasing smile curving her lips as she let her fingers trail down his chest. He caught her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, but she only leaned closer, her breath feathering against his jaw.
“Well, then, I need you again,” she whispered. “From behind this time.”
She rose, the sheets sliding off her skin as she reached for the hem of her camisole. The silk gave way with a gentle pull, revealing the full curve of her breasts.
When she looked at him again, she tugged lightly at his shirt. “Please.”
Max’s breath caught, a low sound escaping him as he pushed himself upright. The faint light caught the sheen of sweat across his chest as he stripped off his shirt, then his pants.
His voice roughened as he looked at her—small, fully bare, and breathtaking in the glow of the bedside lamp. “You’re breathtaking…” He trailed off, shaking his head and smiling.
She watched him silently, her chest rising and falling.
He moved closer, his hand brushing along her thigh. His body stirred against hers, hard and eager, but his movements stayed gentle.
Then, with a low exhale, he met her gaze again. He eased her forward, guiding her gently onto her hands and knees. His hands slid up her back, tracing the curve of her spine until his palms framed her hips.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, almost to himself. His fingers flexed against her skin, and for a moment, he just stayed there, breathing her in. Then he bent, lips brushing her shoulder for the softest kisses.
When he finally pushed into her from behind, a low groan tore from his throat. Valerie gasped, her fingers clutching the sheets. The stretch of him filled her slowly, deeply, and he stilled once he was buried inside, his forehead resting against her back.
He began to move—slow, steady thrusts that made her arch and moan his name. Each motion carried more than hunger. Max’s grip tightened at her hips, but his thumb stroked soft circles into her skin as he lost himself in her rhythm.
“God, Val…” he breathed, his tone breaking between moans. “You feel like you were made for me.”
Valerie pushed back against him, her breasts swaying with each thrust. “Harder, Max,” she demanded, her voice breaking with pleasure, her aggressive side driving the pace.
Her core squeezed him tight, her cries growing louder, the Macau skyline a distant blur as their connection deepened beyond the physical.
Soon, Max picked up the pace, his thrusts growing deeper, faster, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing in the room. “You’re everything, Val,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, squeezing them as he pounded into her, his fingers teasing her nipples.
And when Valerie came, trembling and breathless beneath him, Max followed close after, pressing his mouth to her shoulder to muffle his sound. He held her there through the shudders, their bodies slick and shaking.
He stayed inside her for a moment longer, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against him. “You blow me away every single damn time, Val,” he said breathlessly against her hair. “And I still can’t get enough.”
When Max finally pulled out, Valerie finally let her body sink against the sheets. Her breathing slowed, her pulse easing from its wild rhythm. Max lay beside her, chest rising and falling, his arm stretched loosely over her waist.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Max’s thumb drew lazy, absent-minded circles on her hip.
“You surprise me every time, you know that?”
Valerie gave a small, drowsy smile.
He turned his head, eyes tracing her face. “I mean it, Val. You’ve got this side of you that’s... I don’t know. It sneaks up on me every time. I wasn’t expecting that when I first met you.”
“And what exactly did you expect?”
He smiled faintly, brushing his fingers along her jaw. “Someone a little more put-together.” His tone dropped lower. “Not someone who’d end up wrecking me like this.”
Valerie let out a quiet laugh, her chest pressing against his. “Don’t say that. You make it sound like you’re in too deep.”
Max leaned in, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Maybe I am.”
Then silence lingered. Valerie’s eyes fluttered, and that’s when a knock on the door.
They froze.
Valerie shot upright. “Shit.”
Max’s eyes widened; he was already scanning the room. “Who the hell—”
Another knock, this time followed by a voice. “Val? It’s Belle.”
Panic rushed between them like a jolt. Valerie mouthed hide, and Max was already off the bed, then snatching his shirt and pants, and pair of shoes, and darting toward the walk-in closet. He barely managed to slip inside when Valerie opened the door.
Belle stepped in. “Val, dinner’s ready. Everyone’s already at the restaurant.”
Valerie, already in her robe, pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. “Thank you, Belle. Go ahead and let the team order first — I’ll be there shortly.”
Belle nodded but lingered. “Actually, I was just about to ask — has Max called you? I stopped by his room to tell him to escort you, but there was no answer.”
Valerie forced a polite smile, hoping her voice didn’t betray her racing pulse. “He hasn’t called me. You don’t have to wait, I’ll call him when I’m ready.”
“Of course,” Belle said. “I’ll let them know.”