✔𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 ➳𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

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𝐌𝐚𝐱 sticks to one drink and when she's done with her second, they bid Tipsy their goodbyes and make their way back to the hotel. He never takes his hand off her thigh as they drive through the streets and she likes it. A small possessive gesture that's so fitting and unsuitable all at once. He even goes as far as asking if there's anything she wants to do while they're here. There isn't. They both have work to do. She needs to plan for when they get back to New York while he has to create a solid backstory for her, one that's going to appear real if someone decides to dig deeper.

She steps out of her heels and pads to the kitchen while the front door shuts behind her. Beer is nice, no doubt about it, but it always dehydrates her a disgusting amount. Max takes off the coat and once again, he starts unbuttoning the tightest part of his dress shirt. This time, he pulls up the sleeves of the white shirt, letting them bundle around his elbows.

It doesn't seem like he knows what that kind of thing does to her, so she nonchalantly continues drinking the water as he settles by the dark wooden desk in the corner in front of the almost empty-looking bookshelves. One thing he's aware of is how her eyes follow him through the room.

"What?" He asks, glancing in her direction.

With the glass of water still in hand, she saunters through the room, eyes locked on him. A word doesn't leave her lips as she stands before him and takes a long sip. It's all the small things he does that she likes about him. As now, when the tips of his fingers seem pulled to her skin like magnets, as if he has to touch her. His warm hand wraps around her thigh, above her knee and he watches himself slowly caress her skin. Only when she puts the glass down on the desk does he glance up, eyes wide.

"Thanks for bringing me along," she says with a smile and gently cups his cheek. "I like Tipsy. He seems like a good guy."

"When am I going to know what it is you need?"

She chuckles warmly as her thumb rubs back and forth over his sharp cheekbone. "Whenever I decide to tell you, I suppose."

Max pouts. "I don't even get a hint?"

"What?" She grins, "want to start a guessing game with me?

"Would it work?" He asks while his hand slides up beneath her skirt. Goosebumps flush across her skin, and she smirks down at him.

"You seem to have a pretty good idea of what works on me."

Max smiles, full of warmth as he stares up at her and kisses the heel of her palm, stopping her movements from continuing. She's confused for a second, unsure of what he's doing but he leans in, gently pulling up her shirt to reveal her soft stomach. A shiver runs down her spine as he presses his lips to her skin, slow and lingering before he slips further down, planting another kiss there, creating tracks on her as he trails downwards.

"Still need me to say 'm sorry?" He mumbles.

The most wonderful baby blues stare up at her and she cards a hand through his soft black hair, anticipation rising in her. Now that he's begun, who's she to stop him? Deep down, she knows he won't and he proves it by lowering himself to his knees in front of her, his large hands grasping at her thighs before she's given him an answer.

"You have a lot to apologise for," she muses as he pushes her skirt up and bundles it together. Moving it out of the way, his teeth rake down the top of her thighs, nibbling only to kiss it better a second later. Each little mark from his teeth creates prickles of pain rushing through her, gathering not far from where his mouth in her lower abdomen.

"Sorry about last night," he mumbles, voice dropping an octave while his fingers hook in the waistband of her panties. "Wanted to spend much, much longer doing this."