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Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(92)

Author:Amy Daws

“I’ll see you same time next week,” he calls back down.

Max barks out a laugh at those words, and I smile noncommittally and wave Ryne off. Finally, I reach my tiny house and shove Max inside.

When I have his explosive rage contained inside the white shiplap, I unleash on him. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

His dark blue eyes turn to saucers. “Me? You think something is wrong with me? I pull up the pool security camera and see some fucking asshole groping you, and you think I’m the problem?”

“He wasn’t groping me.”

“Cassandra,” Max growls, turning me around and standing behind me. “What do you call this?”

He presses his warm body into mine and slides his hands down to where Ryne’s were earlier. He pulls me back into his groin, and the instant zing of desire between my legs has me yanking away from him. “I promise you, it didn’t feel like that.”

“What did it feel like?”

“With him, it felt like nothing!” I exclaim, shaking away the thought of Ryne touching me. “Like a swim instructor teaching me a lesson.”

“If you say so,” Max huffs, pulling his tie loose so it’s dangling around the lapels of his dress shirt.

My breath falters at the sight of him all out of breath, red-faced, and looking like he’s about to burst out of his suit any second. It’s too much. It’s all too much. Especially because I know what we have is over, and we’re done with this part of our relationship.

“You should leave,” I croak as an ache blooms in my chest and my fingers itch to reach out and touch him.

Max’s face falls as if my words have snapped him out of his jealous fit. “Fuck, Cassandra, I’m sorry. I just freaked out when I saw the—”

I hold my hand up to stop him from embracing me. “I’m not kicking you out because of your fit. You need to leave because you just undid your tie, and I know we don’t have rules anymore, but it’s too much.” I try to block out the image of him with those top two buttons undone, revealing a few inches of his sculpted chest. My body vibrates like a feral animal ready to attack.

Dammit, we didn’t bang it out enough. Not even close. Why did I have to throw such a tantrum on Saturday?

His eyes are intense and probing when he asks, “Do you really want me to leave?”

I struggle to breathe as I glance up at the house, desperate for an excuse. “Everly is going to come out for ice cream soon.” Translation: If you stay, I’m going to rip that shirt off you and give you a hickey for once.

Max’s chest heaves with a deep breath as if he knows what my thoughts are. He wants to fuck around and find out.

I turn on my heel, willing myself not to give in to this ridiculous attraction I have to this man.

His footsteps come closer, and his breath is hot on my bare shoulder when he utters in a threatening tone, “I’ll leave on one condition.”

“What?” I nearly pant as painful goose bumps erupt over my whole body.

His voice is deep with determination when he adds, “You go out on a date with me tomorrow night.”

“What?” I blurt inelegantly as the sexy moment between us feels popped by this ridiculous request that must be a joke.

I turn around with a laugh only to find him staring back at me with zero humor on his face. He takes a step closer and looms over me. “You are right. We’re done banging it out, Cassandra. I want a fucking date.”

His scent wafts over me, and I find it hard to think straight. “But you don’t do relationships.”

“And you just wanted a summer fling,” he quips, his eyes dropping to my lips. “I said fuck the rules this weekend, and I meant it. We can make our own rules.”

My stomach swirls with anxiety and arousal, and it’s a heady combination that makes my knees wobble. He wants a date? With me? That’s far different than casual sex. What’s changed for him? What’s changed for me? Nothing. Except the thought of him taking someone else to that event nearly crushed me. And then there’s the fact that he had a meltdown over a college-aged swim instructor five minutes ago.

God, we’re a mess.

“Max, I don’t want this to be like that night you came to the bar,” I state, steeling myself to be firm. “Getting jealous of each other is not what dating is. We’re acting like children.”

“This will be different.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my jawline. The tender embrace is so mind-altering, I see stars for a second. “Dating means I don’t have to be jealous of anyone who talks to you because I know it’ll be my cock buried inside you and your lips screaming my name at the end of every night.”

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