tie at the top of her shoulder. "What is it with you and these little bows?"
"That’s a knot, not a bow."
"You’re changing the subject."
"I am not. I’m cooking, and you are…"
"Making you hot?"
"Distracting me."
"I’ll take that." He stood to his full height, looked down, and her body leaned an inch closer to him in anticipation of the kiss.
She realized what she’d done and wanted to back up, but he’d spot a retreat. What he honed in on, unfortunately, were her breasts touching his chest, the sheet between them only a kind of invitation.
"Damn, your mom was right. They are right up there. Like they were being served up on a golden platter."
She realized he wasn’t going to kiss her at all. He’d been bluffing just to get a rise out of her. Well, she wouldn’t be a kabob led to slaughter twice. She punched his arm and felt great satisfaction when he jumped back and rubbed the spot.
"What did I do?"
"I have work to do."
"Oh, you thought I was going to kiss you, and now you’re mad?"
She dismissed him with an eye roll and turned back to garnish the remaining trays and get on with the rest of her life, a life in which she would stop being rejected by men. Max. Steve. Max again. My god, had her lone date in high school even called her after prom?
He shook his head, taunting her by not looking sorry at all. "That’s sweet. But I’m actually trying to control my sexual impulses."
He was making this her problem? For years she hadn’t even had sexual impulses. It wasn't like she was the one who was pursuing him, the arrogant, son of a ... she grabbed him and pushed him against the stove with her hips against his. "You call this move control?"
He swallowed. "I call it sexy as hell, come here." He leaned down to kiss her and-- "Ahhh!"
He spun around, and she could see a couple of tiny holes burned into the rear end of his toga. The edges glowed red for another second, but appeared to be going out on their own, and she wondered if karma was a Greek invention. Hubris was.
"Huh," she studied the burn holes and the pink splotches of exposed skin that probably wouldn’t blister. "Guess it was the front burner."
He tried to see his back end, turning around in the kitchen like a dog chasing its tail, and it was already her favorite Halloween.
"Don’t worry. There’s not much of your ass showing." She pointed to the counter. "And you can start with those trays, Mr. Antony."
Max's Life - November 13th, 1989 Saturday
The frat party was only supposed to be foreplay, not that they needed any more of it. But Gwen had pulled him into the completely dark TV room while everybody else was around the keg in the backyard, and he didn’t want any more fore. He just wanted play.
He’d barely survived the night before at the Curtis Hotel. After making out with Gwen for four hours in the hot pools, he'd ended up sharing a room with nothing but guys. God, it had been awful. First the slippery water, and he knew for a fact it was slippery since he’d gotten his hands on Gwen anywhere he could. And after the epic case of blue balls, he'd had no sleep with Rob, who damn well did snore, and Justin, who didn’t cry but did hog the blankets.
Across the room, he heard Gwen sigh and found her like he had sonar. He pulled her into his arms, and she tilted her head to the side in the way she did when she wanted him to kiss her neck. She was like vanilla and hot all rolled up in a tight package, and he could breathe her in all night.
He rushed a hand up her shirt, felt her nipple get hard against his fingertips, and remembered he had a condom in his back pocket. If they just kept the lights out and everybody stayed outside and--
The door opened, the overhead light fizzed on, and he looked into Gwen’s wide eyes before he turned to kill whoever was there.
"Yo, Max." Rob yelled like he was too drunk to hear himself and took a crooked step into the room. Dammit, the guy was too drunk to hear himself. "We’re playing quarters, man."
Shit. He could feel Gwen laugh a little against him. Didn’t Rob know the rules? A guy didn’t knock another guy off second base. It just wasn't