Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,54

darkly good.”

She straightens her arms to shove back against me harder, and I pick up the pace. It’s a glorious, excruciatingly pleasurable experience, filling her from behind in this golden kitchen at dawn.

I never want it to end, to keep going on and on until we’re both lost in oblivion and the world envelops us.

But the pressure starts to build. I let go of her hip and reach around to find that warm, well-worked clit again.

She sucks in another breath, losing her grip on the window ledge.

“It’s so much,” she says. “I can’t stop.”

When her body begins another shuddering pulse, I relinquish my control and empty into her. She collapses forward, her head on the counter, her body quivering in my arms. Her voice is raspy as she says, “Max, Max, Max.”

When we have both gone still, I wrap my arms around her. My head fits perfectly between her shoulder blades, and we stay there a moment, locked together against her kitchen counter.

The smell of fresh coffee wafts over us. More birds tweet at each other beyond the window. The world is waking up.

It feels like more than a new day. It’s a whole new world.

For a long time, my deli was why I got up every day.

And then for a while, it was the workouts, the muscle mass, the challenge.

But now, it’s her.

24

Camryn

I spend much of the day reminiscing over my night—and morning—with Max Pickle.

I’m even sentimental about the coffee he made me, unwilling to wash the mug or rinse out the coffee pot until late afternoon.

Every time a bird flies by my kitchen window, my heart hammers.

What has he done to me?

But by afternoon, I have to pull myself together, and fast. Max isn’t the only one competing this weekend. So is my brother.

Thankfully, Franklin is easier to tan than Max. He does the physique competitions, so he wears lengthy board shorts and requires much less hands-on work.

Because that would be weird.

As I set up for my brother’s tan, I make sure I have my head straight. Don’t gush about Max. If Franklin asks about him, shrug off the question quickly as if Max is nothing more than another client I have to deal with.

Don’t forget I wasn’t supposed to be at the evening show with Max, so don’t mention it.

Definitely don’t bring up his magnificent cock.

My brother’s knocking on the door when I suddenly remember all the L.A. Pickle containers in my fridge.

I take a deep breath, remind myself not to let Franklin anywhere near my kitchen, and open the door.

“Sis,” he says with a thrust of his chin. “Are you stoked for me? I’m finally moving up in the world.”

I step back to let him in. “I am. I really am. Let’s make sure you look perfect.”

Franklin kicks off his slip-on shoes and pulls his T-shirt over his head.

“You’re going with the red shorts again for this competition?” He’s wearing them now.

“They’re my good luck shorts,” he says.

“Red requires a deeper color.”

“I trust you to fix me up.”

I look him over for any dry spots that will absorb too much tanner and pass him a bottle. “Moisturize the tops of your shoulders and your elbows. I’ll be right back.”

Franklin squirts lotion into his hand as I head to the kitchen. My nerves are jangling. I’m not ready for him to know about me and Max, and I can’t have him figuring it out.

I open the fridge and quickly shove anything marked with the deli’s logo to the very back and hide it behind a watermelon.

“What’re you doing?” Franklin calls.

“Grabbing some cold water. You want some?”

“No. Trying to keep my muscles defined.”

“Right.”

I quickly dump some water in a glass to explain my disappearance.

I pause at the doorway as he rubs moisturizer in his elbows. “You might want to get your hands and feet, too. I feel like they were blotchy last time.”

He nods. “Did that tall chick make it?”

“No. Dahlia didn’t advance. But one of my female clients at your meet also moved up. Camille.”

“Are you gonna be there Saturday?”

Of course I’ll be there. With Max!

But I keep my face neutral. “There’s no beginner meet that day, so I can devote myself to the qualifier. I’ve got both you and Camille to manage.”

“Don’t forget Max,” he says.

“Oh, right. Max.”

Damn, I’m good.

“It should be an easy day for you,” he says. “Just us three.”

I cross over to the tanning tent to switch out the color. “It will be a nice break. I guess you and Max will get