My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,78

to play from the speakers, and Milo reaches down to grip my hips and slowly guide my body to match his rhythm.

Rihanna. “Love on the Brain.”

The lyrics speak to me.

And the beat only further fuels my need for him, to deeper, more intense depths.

He slides his thigh between my legs, and I wrap my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair. Our faces are mere inches from each other. His warm breath brushes my skin, and his eyes stay locked with mine.

He glances down at my lips, and my nipples harden.

He slides his hands up my hips, up the sides of my abdomen, until his fingers brush just below my breasts.

Goose bumps erupt on my skin, and my breaths come out in soft pants.

He slips his fingers into my hair, and it takes two blinks for his lips to move to mine.

Soft and teasing at first, just tiny kisses and licks against my mouth.

Until the kiss intensifies, and our tongues mingle and dance.

A tiny moan escapes my throat, and he swallows it down, kissing me deeper, harder.

It drives me crazy.

I ache and throb between my thighs, and now, I understand why people want to have sex. Now, I understand why sex is something that, when it’s with the right person, you can’t resist. You want it. You need it. You crave it.

Fuck, I want to know what Milo feels like inside me.

I want him to feel me. All of me.

I want to feel his climax.

I want to hear his moans.

And I want to see what his blue eyes look like when he is sliding inside me.

I want it all. And I want it with him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispers into my ear.

It’s like he’s reading my mind.

And it takes me exactly zero seconds to agree.

“Yes, please.”

Milo

I had to get us out of there.

Between the feel of her warm, tight, perfect little body against mine and those big brown eyes of hers staring up at me and the way she kissed me with the kind of fervor that had my cock hardening behind my zipper, I needed to get her out of that fucking club and somewhere that didn’t have an audience.

Somewhere private. Quiet. That doesn’t include anyone but us.

Once she told Lena we were leaving, we didn’t waste any time grabbing a cab and heading straight to her apartment.

Evan’s old bachelor pad.

Good God, I know this place too well.

Parties. Drunken bar nights. A lot of wild shit went down here.

I witnessed Ev meet his wife-to-be in this very space.

He was several beers deep, but once his drunken gaze fixated on the little redhead who stepped through his door, it was like he instinctually knew he had to be near her.

By the end of the night, they were practically glued to each other.

And the rest is pretty much history.

Tomorrow night, he’ll be back in New York, and we’ll celebrate his bachelor party. And two weeks after that, he’ll commit himself to Sadie for the rest of his life.

The thought makes me smile and frown at the same time.

I’m happy for him. Of course, I’m happy for him.

But if I’m really being honest with myself, I’m also jealous.

Not of him, but of what he has with Sadie. Someone he loves so much, so deeply, that he’s ready to say “I do” and commit to a forever with her.

At times, it’s all so hard to believe and has me thinking a lot about my future.

I’ve mellowed out over the past few years, throwing in the towel on one-night stands and bars and all-night parties, and I’m just now starting to understand why.

It’s not that I’ve grown tired of that kind of life. It’s that I’ve grown out of it.

I’ve matured. I’ve changed. And I’ve become more aware of my reality. I’m ready for more. I’m ready to settle down and build a life with someone.

Good God, now isn’t the time to have a fucking midlife crisis.

I shake off my thoughts and reinsert myself into the present.

And while Maybe is in the bathroom doing whatever it is girls do in bathrooms, I walk into her bedroom and sit down on the edge of the mattress. The room is so much Maybe, yet it still has remnants of her brother.

A few spots of the horrid forest-green paint he’d covered the walls with still speckle the ceiling.

The same cozy leather chair sits in the far corner of the room.

But mostly, it’s Maybe. Her clothes. Her shoes. Her pictures