The Perception (The Exception #2)

I shrugged off my robe and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I don’t want to interrupt . . .”


“Woman,” he growled, picking up the puppy and sitting it gently on the floor. Titus whined immediately, his little cobalt blue eyes begging for Max to pick him back up. Max reached down and petted him. “Be good and go on.” He nodded his head towards the fluffy pillow he bought the dog and Titus obediently walked over, marched in a circle, and laid down.

Max shook his head and sighed. “If only I could get you to listen half as well as that dog.”

“Not a chance, babe,” I laughed. I stood between his legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face into my abdomen.

“I bought you all of those things to sleep in and you are wearin’ my old Sun Devils shirt?”

“I like this shirt. It’s all cozy and soft and it smells like you. And I took all of my things to my house to wash yesterday.”

“You’re the perfect storm.” His voice was rough, his breath hot on my skin through the thin fabric of the t-shirt.

“What’s that mean?”

Ignoring me, he said, “Would it do me any good at all to point out the ridiculousness that you don’t live here?”

“Nope,” I said, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back so I could see into his eyes. They were so easy to get lost in. I had found myself on the verge of agreeing to things I knew better than to agree to when gazing into them.

He grabbed my thighs, pressing his fingertips into my bare skin. His touch, coupled with the earlier unobstructed view of his body, made me ache with want.

“It wouldn’t do you any good at all to go there,” I continued, “but it might do you some good to go here.” I grabbed his right hand and placed it between my legs. He rubbed his thumb over my opening, the fabric of my panties pressing into my wetness. I pushed my body against his hand, needing the friction to ease the buildup that was beginning to grow out of control.

Max withdrew his hand and placed both of them on the backs of my legs, pulling me closer to him.

“What are you doing? I want you. Now,” I all but begged.

“I know you do, sweetheart. But I want to slow down a minute.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “I don’t want to slow down. I want you inside me.”

“And I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice deep and husky. I could hear the need in his tone, mirroring mine. He ran his hands up the backs of my legs, setting my skin on fire, until he reached my backside. He cupped both cheeks in his hands. “I always want to be inside you. But I want to enjoy your body. This,” he said, squeezing my ass, “should be appreciated. Let me love on you a minute.”

I felt myself tear into two jagged, painful pieces. The first one wanted to do just that and let him “love on me,” but the other knew good and well that I couldn’t let sex and love bleed together.

Max broke my thoughts by standing up, lifting me with him. He planted a kiss on my lips as he turned and lay me on the bed. He stood over me, his eyes darkening, taking in every inch of me. Once his gaze made its way to my face, his eyes locked onto mine. His hands ran slowly up my legs, the coarseness of his palms mixing with the gentleness of his touch causing me to shiver.

He reached my hips, caressing the curve of my waist. He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me in the way only Max could. It wasn’t a physical gesture, nor was it a simple exchange. It was a statement, a promise. It was a damn guarantee of things I didn’t want to think about.

“Fuck me, Max,” I whispered, turning my head to allow him access to my neck. “Please.”

He growled in response, leaving a trail of kisses from my mouth to my ear and then down my neck. I knew he hated my crudeness, but it reminded him, me, us, of what we were.

“I’m just going to bend over the bed,” I said, trying to roll out from under him.

“Not happening, sweetheart.” He kissed me again, harder this time, as he placed a knee between my legs. “I want to see your face.” He grabbed the hem of my shirt and drew it over my head, our lips only breaking to allow the material to pass between us. He kissed down my throat and to my chest, licking and sucking lightly on my hardened nipples.

I ground my sex against his leg, needing a release of the pressure that had built in my core. Putting my hands on the back of his head still at my breast, I encouraged him to lick and suck harder.

I could feel him harden against my stomach. I let my hands travel lazily down his back, feeling his muscles ripple. I dipped my fingers beneath the waistline of his briefs. I grabbed his cock, squeezing it roughly as he kissed back to my mouth again. His tongue darted out, the wetness creating a cooling sensation on my already oversensitive skin.

“Max,” I begged.

I felt the loss of his body as he stood up. His eyes never left mine as he pushed his briefs down his legs and stepped out of them.

“Tell me you have a condom close,” I pleaded as I ran my hand beneath the lace of my panties.