Quarter Mile Hearts(12)

Unfortunately for me, it was Max whose order she was taking and he scowls in my direction before putting his arm around one of his trio of floozies. Is he seriously going to sleep with all three of them? At once?

“Storm.” She holds out her arms. Not her, as well. “We’ve missed you. Hank didn’t say you were coming.”

“No…I-”

“Typical Hank doesn’t tell us anything.”

“It’s just for a short while until-” But I don’t get to finish when Uncle Pat hugs me.

“Sit down, kick back, and we can catch up soon. What do you want to drink?”

“Diet Coke.”

“Now where’s my pad?” Aunt Lynda pats down her pockets.

“Over there, beside those girls who look way too young to be drinking.” I nod my head discreetly in their direction. Aunt Lynda’s eyes narrow at them.

“Hmm, they do. I’ll check their ID and none of this fake stuff.”

“Of course, not.” I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

“Sit down; I’ll be right over.” She rushes off to retrieve her pad and start ID’ing the underaged girls, leaving me to take a seat beside Beth, Aaron, and another guy I don’t know.

“What have you done?” Beth asks looking over her shoulder as Aunt Lynda scrutinizes each girl’s ID, decides it is fake, which it probably is, and ushers them out. But not before giving Max a smack upside his head.

I bend my head to hide my amusement, but my shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Already causing trouble and you’ve only been back a few hours.” Aaron smirks, and I can only nod as tears of laughter glisten in my eyes.

Once I calm down and finish my soda, I head to the jukebox. I flick through to see if there is anything new, but there’s not, so I work back through the choices. My skin starts to tingle, and when I turn to see who is behind me, I meet a pair of dark, almost black eyes, framed by impossibly dark lashes and brows that dip into a hard v.

“Max.” I nod. “What happened to your friends? Was it past their bedtime?” I bite my lip and try to keep a straight face as a fresh wave of laughter threatens to overwhelm me.

“Ha. Ha,” he says without a trace of humor in his voice. “Was that you?”

“Not at all.” I try for an innocent, butter-wouldn’t-melt look, but I can’t pull it off and the way the corners of my mouth twitch with amusement is a dead giveaway.

“Where’d you learn to ride like that?” He tilts his head.

“Around.” I keep it vague, not about to reveal that I went to track days and illegal races for a while.

“Impressive.” He arches his eyebrow. “How long you home for?”

“Not sure, at least until my dad is better.”

The jukebox is in the corner, near the pool table, but no one is playing and we’re on our own. Well, as much as you can be in a busy bar. Max moves toward me, backing me further into the corner.

“Why’d you leave, Storm?” He presses closer, and I flatten myself against the jukebox, but there is no escape. I should know by now that there is no escaping Max; he is everywhere. He takes another step closer.

“You know why.” I hate the way my voice quivers.

His hands hang at his side, and then they’re on me, skimming up the outside of my black skinny jeans and around to grip my ass. Just like I’ve seen Aaron do to Beth, he jerks my bottom half to him so my pelvis brushes against his dick, which is hardening in his jeans as we speak.

“Things were just getting interesting.” His softly spoken words set free the butterflies in my stomach, and they soar higher and higher. The eye contact is too intense, and his dark eyes bore into my soul. I dip my head before he can see everything I don’t want him to.

“I couldn’t, Max.” I shake my head, hoping it will strengthen my argument, but he carries on undeterred.

“Do you still remember?” His finger tilts my chin, guiding it upwards so I have no choice but to look at him.

My eyes lock with his. “What?” And that’s when I start to fall. Down and down, my stomach feels as if it’s in a freefall, and the feeling grows deep inside me.

“Do you still remember how it felt to have me inside you?”

“Max.” My shock and outrage are less effective when it comes out as a breathy gasp. In fact, it sounds more like I’m calling out his name as he makes me come. And I certainly remember how that feels.

“I remember.” His voice is equally breathy, and I get where he is going with this. But he carries on. “I remember every single detail of that night. The way you felt, the way you tasted.” I draw in a sharp breath, my eyes widening, and he chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles at me. He finds it funny to get me all turned on and, let's be blunt, horny. And I didn’t even bring my trusty pink B.O.B. with me.