“Carl!” Max yelled, using the hand that wasn’t holding onto her to cup around his mouth. “Carl, come!”
From out of the woods came a huge snow abomination. When it was only a few feet from them, it stopped, shook, and sent snow flying.
Carl.
Proud of himself, he sat happily at their feet and panted a smile, while Rory fought with relieved tears.
What was wrong with her tonight?
Max got them all back into the truck. He dried off Carl the best he could and then turned to Rory.
She had no idea that she’d lost the battle with her emotions until Max cupped her face and swiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Rory,” he said, voice low and concerned.
“Does Christmas always have to suck so hard?” she whispered.
He looked at her for a long beat and then slowly shook his head. “No. Not always.”
They stared at each other some more and then . . . he kissed her. Softly at first, carefully, but she didn’t need either and let him know by fisting her hands in his jacket and letting out a needy little whimper for more.
This wrenched a deep, rough male groan from him that rumbled up from his chest, and she clutched at him, trying to get closer. Before she knew it, he’d hauled her over the console and into his lap, tucking her thighs on either side of his, letting her feel exactly how his body had responded to the kiss. He was hard.
Everywhere.
Hungry for the connection, desperate to forget her problems, trembling in her boots for more of this man beneath her, she kissed him back with all the pent--up longing and need she felt. When they broke free, his eyes were heavy--lidded with lust and desire, and she had one single, devastating thought.
All these years later, she still wanted him as her own.
Chapter Six
MAX DIDN’T OFTEN act without deliberate conscious thought. In his job, his life depended on him being a clear, levelheaded thinker at all times.
But at the moment, with the wind and snow beating up his truck on the outside, the interior both dark and intimate, his tongue halfway down Rory’s throat, he couldn’t kick--start his brain or mobilize his thoughts. All he could do was feel. And, Christ, what he felt. Rory’s loose hair streaming over his shoulders and arms as she strained against him, her petite body chilled enough to sink in and concern him—-which was an excuse to wrap her up even tighter in his arms.
Better.
Carl gave a happy “wuff,” and clearly thinking they were all going to wrestle, he tried to stick his big, fat head in between them.
Rory choked out a laugh and gave the dog a playful shove and then, in what might have been Max’s favorite part of the day, hell his entire year, Rory slid her fingers back into his hair and kissed him.
Yeah, that worked. Big time. He tried to keep it light but she kept responding with more than he expected, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, sliding it sensually against his, and he was a goner. With a groan, he tightened his grip on her and gave her all he had.
She whispered his name, her voice filled with such longing that it reached deep inside his chest and squeezed around his heart. She was still straddling him, her knees tucked on either side of his hips, and then she rocked against his killer hard--on and he forgot to breathe. But breathing was optional anyway as he kissed her hungrily, completely lost in her, just gone.
When she finally pulled free, she was breathless, her eyes dazed, her lips full and wet. “What was that for?” she asked softly.
He had no idea. She was driving him crazy. Since the day he’d begun working in the same building as her and he’d realized that there was a serious chemistry between them, she’d been driving him crazy. But this was a whole new level of crazy, the kind that made him want to get her naked so he could warm her up in the most basic of ways.
Not good.
None of this was good, this seeing new sides of her that he didn’t want to see. Rory sharing everything she had, Rory being sweet and kind. Resourceful. And incredibly courageous. And, Christ, but he really loved that about her. She’d been through hell and was here on the other side, stronger than ever.
The thing was, in his life, he took care of -people. Clients at work. Coworkers. Carl. His friends. His family. Although . . . it hadn’t escaped him who’d been taking care of who on this trip.
“Max?”
“I don’t know what that was,” he said. “You turn me upside down.”
She let out a snort. Clearly he wasn’t the only one off his axis.
Headlights came up behind them, uncomfortably close. All he could see in the dark night was that the vehicle was large. Possibly a tow truck, hopefully a tow truck but possibly not, and he carefully nudged Rory off his lap and back to her seat. Her eyes widened when he leaned forward to grab the Maglite he’d left at his feet and his jacket raised up, clearly revealing the gun at the small of his back.
“What—-”
“Wait here,” he said, and then he slid out of the truck, locking it behind him. They were on a deserted road in a damn blizzard.