“Max,” I whispered.
His hand came to my cheek then it slid into my hair before he asked, “You like it?”
I nodded though I wouldn’t say I liked it. I’d say I more than liked it.
He looked into my eyes, his face grew soft but his mouth grinned before he prompted, “Then you gonna kiss me or what?”
I really should have replied “or what”.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
The ring was beautiful, it was special and his gesture was remarkable.
So instead of saying “or what”, I did something not smart, not sane, not rational and got up on my toes. Then I slid my fingers in his hair from the neck up. Then I grabbed onto his hard bicep with my other hand.
Max helped, leaning into me, bending his neck, gliding his fingers further into my hair to cup my head and putting his other hand to my waist.
Then I kissed him, touching my tongue to his lips which he opened for me then sliding it inside, tasting beer, tasting Max and thinking he was the most beautiful taste to ever touch my tongue.
He growled into my mouth, slanting his head, his arms coming around me and he took control of the kiss.
His was better, so much better, I felt the need to slide my other hand into his hair and hold his head to me so he’d get the hint I didn’t want him to stop.
Maybe never.
Maybe I never wanted him to stop.
We made out in the kitchen for awhile, I had no idea how long and didn’t care. I was simply loving the act of making out with Max in his kitchen partly because I loved kissing, mostly because Max was a really good kisser.
Then he finally lifted his head an inch and, unfortunately, stopped.
“I’m guessin’ you like it,” he muttered, a grin playing at his mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed, unable to grin and practically unable to remain standing. Luckily, he was still holding me.
“God, you’re cute.” He was still muttering.
I wasn’t able to form a reply.
Then we both heard the loud knock of knuckles banging insistently on glass. This sound made me jump but Max didn’t jump, instead his mouth got tight.
Max twisted his neck and his torso, taking me with him and we both saw Jimmy Cotton standing outside the door.
Then Jimmy Cotton opened the door, stuck his upper body in the house and demanded, “Quit neckin’ with Nina, Max, and get out here and help me.” Then he disappeared, leaving the door open.
Max twisted back, looked down at me and he didn’t look happy.
His words proved my guess true. “Swear to God, this doesn’t quit happenin’, I’m gonna kill someone.”
He sounded like he meant it.
“You can’t kill Jimmy Cotton. He’s an American Treasure,” I informed him.
“Right now,” Max returned, letting me go, “he’s a pain in my ass.”
I watched Max stalk to the door, flip on the outside light and exit, closing the door behind him and I didn’t know whether to laugh, scream or count my lucky stars.
I didn’t do any of those. I got out a cookie sheet and the tube of crescent roll dough, popped it open and started to unwind the dough.