and groped around the nightstand next to the bed, producing a condom. Carly sat up, too, and dragged her fingers through his hair, then nibbled his shoulder. “Hurry,” she murmured.
A moment later, he pulled her into his body as he slipped in between her legs. He paused, braced above her, and brushed away a strand of hair that draped across her face, and without a word, he entered her.
Carly pitched forward into the sensation, pressing into him, moving with him, losing herself in the sensations he was arousing in her. He caressed her as he moved, slow and fluid, his mouth on hers. Her heart beat at a clip that left her breathless. Her body strained for his, and she caressed his arms and his back, urging him to quicken his stroke. The blur of pure sensation—of touch and smell, of length and breadth—made her wild beneath him, rocking against him, striving for release. Max muttered something and grabbed one of her hands and laced his fingers with hers. He was moving quickly now, pushing her off the cliff. And when she fell, Carly went with a cry of release and gratification, the desire she’d contained for months and months finally spilling out of her.
Max gave in, too, thrusting powerfully into her one last time with a moan against her shoulder.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, panting like she’d run a marathon, but Max’s voice woke her from the fog. “Way to go for it,” he said.
She giggled. “Way to bring it home.”
Max lifted his head and gazed at her with an expression that made Carly’s heart skip. The regard reflected in his lovely expressive eyes seemed fathoms deep. She was pretty sure there was some sexual liberation shining in there, too. And maybe a hint of surprise and romantic desire, as well.
Oh, but she was feeling all the same things in her. That had felt good. It was the best she’d felt in weeks. Months! A very long time.
He grinned and rolled onto his back, then took her hand into his. “You know what? I never liked Brant so much as I do right now.”
She laughed. “I was going to kill him, but now I think we should invite him to dinner.”
Max stroked her cheek, his gaze soft and adoring.
Carly felt vibrant and sexy and she could stay in this bed for the rest of her life as long as this drop-dead gorgeous man continued to look at her as he was at this very moment. How had she gotten so lucky? How had her yin fit so well with his yang? How had . . .
“Wait,” she said. “What is that noise?”
Max kissed her temple. “That is the sound of two dogs sniffing after us.”
Carly sat up. At the bottom of the closed door she could see the shadows of a lot of paws.
“They aren’t going to let up,” Max said. “Should we let them in?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Carly said.
Max slid off the bed and walked in his gloriously naked form to the door. When he opened it, two basset hounds raced as best they could for the bed. With a squeal, Carly dug in under the covers. Hazel made it up onto the bed in one leap. Max had to help Baxter. After they painted her face with doggie kisses, the two dogs settled at the end of the bed as if it was theirs.
Max pulled on a pair of sweats. “Want some cold pizza?” he asked.
Carly looked at the dogs. Then at him. There were so many emotions swirling in her, filling her up. She smiled.
Max smiled back, and there were a thousand different shades of wonder and happiness in his smile.
“Hell, yes, I want some pizza,” she said, and began to fluff the pillows at her back.
Fifteen
Max and Carly were snug in a pillow fort, eating leftover pizza straight out of the fridge, and every so often, pushing a curious dog away. They talked about everything. Carly told him about her last job and how she was laid off. She told him about her parents’ divorce and how crazy they were acting now, and how her sister had some unsubstantiated theory that their parents were still totally into each other.
For his part, Max told her about losing his mother and how he’d lucked into his house. How he’d taken Hazel from a professor who was transferring and didn’t have room for a dog.