Times Square(24)

"Not on the table," he says and slides me off the edge, my legs wrapping around his hips as he does. "Not on the table right now," he adds. "I'm not conceding the table as a viable surface for any future fuckery. But now, bed."

"How caveman of you," I tell him, tugging at his earlobe with my teeth and doing my best to gyrate myself against him, to get the friction I desperately want on my clit. "I like it."

"Of course you do." He sets me on my feet at the foot of the stairs and slaps my ass. "Go up. Take off your bra and panties and wait for me on the bed."

"Oh, we're doing a bossy thing too. Me really likey."

"Go." He shakes his head at me and laughs.

Upstairs I slide my underthings off and drop them on a chair in his bedroom. Then I take the necklace off and examine it again before I place it on his dresser. I don't want the chain to tangle, and if it stays on it's going to end up wrapped up in my hair. I notice there's a tiny hinge on the box and clasp that opens the glass lid, so I can switch out the fortune if I want. I can't imagine wanting to though, it's perfect just as it is. I run my fingers along the glass window and smile, remembering our first night together. Remembering the first time we met when he said something about enjoying my laugh. That he liked my smile.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Max enters the room, pulling his shirt off and giving me a pointed look. "Your instructions were naked and in bed. You are naked, which I appreciate, but you're not in bed, which I don't." He unbuckles his belt, his movements unhurried, his fingers nimble as the belt falls open and he unzips his pants. Flicking his eyes back to mine, he grins, that damn dimple of his making me wetter than I already am. "Wait, are you trying to ask me for some kinky spanking shit? Where you deliberately don't follow instructions and then I pretend to be cross with you and bend you over my knee? Because I'm on page eighty of this month's book club pick and I haven't come across any spanking scenes yet so I'm not sure what we're doing here." He grins when he says it, and his tone is teasing so I'm not taking him seriously.

"No." I shake my head with a laugh. "I wasn't."

"Good, because that shit never turns out as hot as you think it's going to. It looks good in movies but here, without the correct lighting and someone filming it, it's just kinda awkward." He shoves his pants over his hips, his cock heavy, the small talk doing nothing to dull his erection. "But hey, if it's your sexual fantasy I'm willing to oblige you."

"It's not. I mean, let's not take it off the table"—I wink at him—"but not right now."

"Okay, I'll practice. Just so I'm prepared if you change your mind."

"Wait, how in the hell are you going to practice spanking?"

"Really?" He raises a brow, his expression amused. "Did you really just ask me that? I was a teenage boy once."

"Stop." I laugh. "How are you going to practice spanking me?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "A pillow?"

"I don't think so."

"What? It could work." He grabs a pillow from the bed and gives it a thwack. It makes the same sound as fluffing a pillow, which is ridiculous. I frown and shake my head at him. "That's a good girl, take it," he says, giving the pillow another whack as he drops onto the bed.

Shit. "Okay, that good girl thing was hot," I admit, my eyes darting away and then back again. He looks interested in this revelation but I hold up a hand as I set the necklace down and walk towards him. "Can I ask you something?" I ask, bending one knee onto the bed.

"Of course."

"That night we met," I start and I see the recognition flash across his face. He knows where I'm going with this. "When I was blogging at Starbucks. You just flirted with me and left. What if you'd never seen me again?"

"Lauren." He smiles and holds his hand out to me until I lean forward and crawl over him, resting my head on his chest. "My gym is around the corner from that Starbucks. I'd seen you in there at least half a dozen times."

"You had?" I ask, surprised. "Why'd you wait so long to talk to me?"

"I didn't think you were ready."

"You didn't?" I question. But he's right, I wasn't.

"That night was the first time you ever looked up. The first time you ever caught me staring at you."

"That's not creepy," I joke while tapping his chest with my fingers.

"I knew I'd see you there again. And I figured eventually I'd wear you down."

"Still a little creepy," I say, holding my finger and thumb apart an inch.