“Twenty minutes is a long time for just a back rub.” Especially when there was so much more of her body Max longed to touch.

“Neck too, of course.”

“Of course.”

Max sat on the bed next to her. The line had been drawn, and while he suspected it had been drawn with pencil rather than pen, he wouldn’t cross it without an invitation. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kneaded. Emma sighed with pleasure, and Max knew he was done for.

“What made you think I’d be any good at massage?” If he kept talking, maybe he could distract himself, stop thinking about how she felt beneath his palms. The warmth of her skin. The solid muscles that softened under his fingers.

“You have good hands,” she murmured.

“Glad you noticed.”

“And you’re a pretty good kisser. I figured someone who could balance gentle and rough would be a decent masseur.”

He ran his palms across her lateral muscles. “Only a pretty good kisser?”

“That’s how I remember it.” The edges of her mouth curled, like she was trying to keep her smile from widening.

Her shirt bunched as he worked the muscles of her sides, revealing a thin strip of golden skin. Max repeated the movement and was rewarded with another inch. When Emma didn’t protest, he hooked his thumbs beneath the fabric. Skin-on-skin contact. He released his breath at the same moment she did, in shared relief.

Neither of them spoke as his hands slid beneath her shirt. He ran his palms across her shoulder blades, and she arched her back, pushing herself into his touch.

Max worked his way down her spine, stopping when he reached her waistband. He traced his thumbs across the top, dipping inside a fraction of an inch.

“What happens next, Emma?”

She stilled, and it occurred to him that she didn’t know.

“What do you want? No games.”

She rolled onto her back. “Isn’t it all a game this week?”

“Out there, yeah. But it doesn’t need to be that way in here.”

Emma shook her head, in disagreement or confusion. He couldn’t tell which. “Of course it does. We’re only here for a couple of days. It’s all just a bit of fun, right?”

He couldn’t argue. All they could have—all he wanted—was a simple summer fling, a brief interruption in his search for something more meaningful.

“So we have a bit of fun.” He ignored the way his throat felt a little thick, like he needed to squeeze the words out. “We’d have more fun without our clothes.”

She laughed, a quick burst that appeared to surprise her. Something in him lightened.

“Before we go too far,” she said, “I don’t have any condoms.”

“You don’t?”

“No need to sound so shocked.”

“That’s not what…I didn’t mean…” He sighed. “I didn’t bring any either.”

“At least you didn’t think I was a sure thing.”

That was true. Also, he’d assumed Emma wouldn’t invite a guy over to massage and chill if she didn’t have the chill part covered.

“I’d planned to spend this entire week forgetting all my troubles. I didn’t pack to hook up.”

Maybe he should have been frustrated. Instead, he was too busy thinking of ways they could have fun without a condom.

Max stretched out beside her. Emma rolled onto her side to face him, and for several seconds they just…waited. Let the moment stretch before they crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

“Take off your clothes,” he whispered at last.

Emma grabbed the hem of her top and tugged, lifting from the mattress just enough to pull it over her head. Underneath, she wore a mint-green lace bra. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It seemed out of place in the rustic cabin, but of course Emma would wear gorgeous lingerie to go with her flawless makeup and fashionable clothes.

It wasn’t the sort of thing Max thought he was into, but right then he only wanted to know if her panties matched.

“Your turn.”

He tore his shirt over his head so fast he felt stitches tear.

They still wore too many clothes, but Max wouldn’t wait any longer to feel her skin against his. He rolled on top of her, bracing on his forearms. Her legs widened, welcoming him into the cradle of her hips.

He kissed her the way he’d wanted to since they separated the night before. Not soft and gentle, but searching, claiming. He licked inside her mouth and wound his tongue with hers, deepening the kiss. Only when that hunger was temporarily sated did he move to her neck and down, eager to learn the parts of her body that had been newly revealed.

Max nuzzled the tops of her breasts, then gave her a quick bite that made her jump. Emma ran her hands across his back, exploring the same muscles he’d just discovered on her body. Her touch was greedy. Her hands moved fast, covering as much skin as possible.

He sucked her nipple through her bra and rubbed the other between his fingers. The delicate flesh puckered under his touch. He palmed her breasts, learning their weight, how they fit his hands.

It still wasn’t enough. “Pants,” he commanded, moving off her.

She pushed them past her hips, and he helped yank them all the way off.

He was right. Her panties matched. Max tugged at the thin string at her hips. “I like these.” His voice was rough, and he dropped the flimsy fabric before he gave in to the urge to rip it.

Max splayed his fingers across her clavicle, then moved downward, over her breasts, across her stomach, back to that thin layer of fabric. Emma rocked her hips in invitation, watching him with heavy lids, and Max slid his hand between her thighs and cupped her pussy.

He groaned at her heat, at the damp lace against his palm. “Were you this wet earlier, when you were touching yourself?”

She wiggled her hips, pressing into his hand. “Maybe not this wet.” There was a breathiness in her voice he hadn’t heard before.

Max slipped a finger under the lace. Considering her high-maintenance beauty regimen, he expected her to be fully waxed. Instead, he discovered a triangle of neatly trimmed curls, and he exhaled as his hand eased through them to her slit. Max ran his finger up and down the slick flesh. “Is this how you touch yourself?”

“Do you want to know?”

He managed a nod.

“I’ll show you. As soon as you finish undressing.”

Why was he still wearing clothes? Max yanked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shorts. He paused. “Finish…”

“Everything.”

Max grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and took everything off in one movement. His cock bobbed and pointed at Emma. Like he needed the reminder.

“Your turn.” Max reached for the front closure of her bra and popped it open. The fabric framed her breasts. He pushed her underwear over her hips. Emma squirmed, helping him work it past her ankles.

Max sat back and took a moment just to look at her. He’d seen her that afternoon in her bikini and thought he already knew the shape of her body, the curves and colors of her skin, but that was only the beginning. He hadn’t seen the way her breasts spilled a little to the side, or how the curls between her legs were several shades darker than her hair. He hadn’t seen the small mole on her left hip.

On impulse, he leaned in to kiss it. He wanted to kiss every freckle, every imperfection that made her feel that much more real—the person she was, rather than the star everyone saw online.

“Spread your legs.”

She eased them open. Even here, she had a sense of drama, like she was revealing something remarkable.

She wasn’t wrong. Her pussy was the same dusky rose as her nipples, and it gleamed with her arousal. Max craved a taste. He bent his head to lick up her seam, taking her onto his tongue. Emma sighed and widened her legs, giving him better access, but Max sat back.

“You said you’d show me.”

“Later,” she protested, lifting her hips.

It was so tempting to bury his face between her legs, to give her what she was asking for. He wanted to fuck her with his tongue, taste her release.

He wanted a lot of things that night.

“What’s the hurry?” Max pushed himself up. “I thought you could have as many orgasms as you damn well wanted.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut. “That came back to bite me fast.”

He chuckled. “Show me.”

She moved one hand to her pussy. Max watched, transfixed, as she eased two fingers around her inner folds and slid down, close to her opening, then squeezed them together, plumping her flesh. She repeated this, then skimmed her clitoris once, twice, three times before repeating the pattern.

Max was torn between wanting to stare at this beautiful sight for the rest of his life and needing to touch her himself. He settled for wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and working the shaft in slow, lazy strokes.

She moved faster, working her fingers over the slick folds, then back to her clit, each time lingering a little longer on the small nub. Her breath began to come faster.

“Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

She shook her head and focused on him. “Sometimes. But this gets me there fastest.” She watched his hand move up and down. “Do you usually work the shaft instead of the tip?”

“Not usually, but I’m hoping I don’t get there fast.”

Emma gazed at him, transfixed, like she was as eager to learn his body as he was to know hers.

Her orgasm came slowly. The flush rose across her chest, then her cheeks, and her legs shook for several long seconds before she arched her back with a soft moan. Her hips undulated as she rode out the climax.

Max released his cock before he came with her. He waited for her to come down then lay at her side, his body against hers. He pressed his lips to her shoulder and tasted the hint of salt from her sweat. “My turn.”

She turned to him with a smile. “If you say so.” Emma licked her palm, then gripped his cock and began stroking it the same way he’d stroked himself minutes ago.

Max’s head tilted back, her unexpected touch making him grit his teeth for control. “That’s not what I meant,” he growled.

She slowed her movements.

“Don’t stop,” Max said. Or maybe begged. “But I’m going to touch you too.”

He moved his hands between her legs, teasing her the way she’d teased herself. Squeezing the folds, stroking the clit. Slow circles across the soft, wet skin. Following her pattern, but mixing it up enough to draw gasps of surprise.

Emma ran her thumb over the tip, drawing the fluid down and rubbing it into his skin. He groaned. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come.”

“That’s the idea,” she murmured, then cried out as he pinched her clit.

They moved together, rocking into each other’s hands, and the closer they drew to the edge, the harder it was to look away. She began to shake, and his balls tightened. He was so close, so fucking close. He wasn’t going to make it long enough to—

Emma came, an explosion that arrived with little warning this time. Her eyes widened as if it surprised even her, but she didn’t release his shaft. With a final thrust into her hand, Max spilled over her fingers and onto her stomach, the release so intense, so necessary, that he groaned with relief.

They lay together for minutes afterwards, until the sweat on their bodies began to cool and Max remembered to be a gentleman. He kissed her forehead once, then went to the bathroom for a towel.

He padded back into the room and perched on the side of her bed to clean her off. He barely resisted the urge to whistle as he worked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this at ease.

Emma smiled at him and sat up, propping herself against a pillow. She drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

On the surface, nothing had changed. She wasn’t cold or rude in any way. She was just silently informing him there would be no cuddles. He wasn’t invited back into her bed, not that night.

He got the message, loud and clear. Somehow, Max had forgotten who Emma was.

This shouldn’t come as a surprise. Neither of them had offered anything beyond a good time.

Max dressed in silence. When he stood to go, she still looked perfectly serene. “I had a good time,” she told him, like she was thanking him for dinner and a movie instead of an orgasm that damn near made her levitate.

“Me too,” he said, the king of understatement. “Don’t think this means I won’t kick your ass tomorrow.”

“Oh, I fully believe you won’t kick my ass tomorrow.” She made no move toward him. Leaving was his job, it appeared.

“All right. See you.” He gave a small, stupid wave he instantly regretted, then walked out the door.

With every step, he tried to let go of whatever had happened in that room. It had clearly been one-sided. Max had been warned that Emma didn’t take the guys in her life seriously, and he’d just been treated to a live demonstration.