We were laughing and reciting dialogue. Maxx continued to steal my popcorn, and I playfully smacked his hand away. His fingers tightened in mine periodically, as though to remind me that we were still touching.

Please, as if I could forget.

Despite my eyes being trained on the screen, all I could feel, all I could think about, was his skin against mine.

During one of the particularly violent scenes, I turned away, never having been able to stomach it. I trained my eyes on Maxx’s shoulder and waited for it to be over. I felt his eyes on me and looked up through my lashes. His mouth was quirked up in a small smile.

“Such a delicate little flower, aren’t you?” he teased, his breath stirring the hairs by my ear. I gave a snort and shook my head, our cheeks touching.

Maxx’s fingers brushed my hair out of my face, and he leaned in to brush his nose along mine, his lips the barest whisper away. His eyes held mine in the glow of the screen. His hand slid down the side of my neck until he stopped and cupped the back of my head in his strong grip. His other hand came up to cradle the other side of my face, his thumb caressing my jaw.

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I should stop this. I should say something. I should back the hell away and put some necessary distance between me and this thing building toward a definite climax.

But there was no acting. No thinking. Just the anticipation.

“I’m going to kiss you, Aubrey,” he said softly against my lips. I swallowed around the lump that had formed in my throat.

But I didn’t pull away.

I couldn’t pull away from him.

The moment his mouth met mine, I tensed up. It was as though the last semblance of rational thought was battling my overworked hormones for supremacy. My brain was trying desperately to stop the rest of me from doing something I couldn’t take back.

But then Maxx’s tongue skimmed the crease of my mouth, and my lips parted to let him inside.

I had gone under.

He tasted like popcorn, cherry gummy bears, and every decadent, forbidden thing. He tasted like bad choices.

I couldn’t stop the groan that bubbled up from the back of my throat as he plundered my mouth. He took and he claimed and he made me his. I couldn’t help but feel a sudden panic as the need to shut down and pull away tried to take over.

But my body ached for this. I wanted him even as I recoiled at the intimacy. My lips slowly began to respond under the pressure of his mouth as my brain was quieted by the sensation of being kissed by Maxx.

This was new to me. The wanting. Under the expert ministrations of Maxx’s hands and tongue, I felt any residual hesitation melt away. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was life-altering.

My arms came up, and my fingers wound themselves in the thickness of his curls. His hands continued to hold my face firmly as our mouths slanted again and again.

Our tongues tangled, our teeth knocked together, and I could barely breathe. I could feel the day-old scruff on his face rubbing against my cheeks and chin. I’d have a serious case of beard burn when this was over.

Maxx moaned deep and low, and it rumbled around in my belly, causing me to throb. I leaned farther into him, our chests smashed together over the obstructing armrest. Maxx broke away and glared down at the offending piece of plastic that separated us. Then, without a word, he pulled me over the seat, my legs scraping against it roughly, but I found that I didn’t care. I’d worry about bruises later.

I landed haphazardly in his lap, my back digging painfully into the other armrest. My legs were sprawled inelegantly along the row of seats.

Wow, this is so not hot, I thought, trying not to be embarrassed over the days of the week underwear now on display beneath my disheveled skirt. I felt my awkward tension resurface and threaten to ruin the moment. Tiny, anxious voices in the back of my head started questioning exactly what I was doing.

I wiggled into an upright position, fully intending to break away from our passionate embrace. But the pressure of my ass pressing into Maxx’s crotch erased my second-guessing.

Maxx moaned again, this time a little louder. I glanced around, worried about the show we were putting on. So far so good, no one was paying us any mind.

I could feel his erection straining under his jeans, and it twisted up my insides. Maxx wrapped his arm around my back and maneuvered me so that I was kneeling, straddling him in the tiny seat, my skirt hiked up over my hips. His hand pressed into my lower back, pushing me against him. His mouth kissed a line up the column of my throat, his tongue flicking against my skin.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect,” he murmured as his mouth took hold of mine again.

I ground against the firm ridge inside his jeans, needing some sort of relief from the ache between my legs. We made out and touched for the rest of the movie, but we kept it strictly PG-13. It had both awakened and frustrated me.

We barely noticed when the movie was over and the lights came back on. “Get a room,” someone muttered, tossing a handful of popcorn in our direction.

Maxx and I broke away, and I let out a strained laugh. His mouth was swollen, and I’m sure my face was red and raw from his stubble, but it had been worth it. That had been the most potent make-out session I had ever had.

I slithered off his lap and stood up on very wobbly legs, straightening my skirt. Maxx took my hand and led me out of the theater. We didn’t look at each other, and I wasn’t sure if it was out of embarrassment or an overload of lust.

We stepped out into the cool night air, and I wished I could think of something to say, something to make this moment last or perhaps make it go away. Maxx confused me. He confounded me. He made me question absolutely everything.

Maxx stopped abruptly and turned around to face me. He gripped my shoulders and brought his mouth down to mine. He kissed me thoroughly before letting me come up for air.

“Thank you,” he said against my lips.

“For what?” I asked shakily.

Maxx smiled against my mouth and didn’t answer. Then he backed away, holding on to my hands until they were outstretched between us. Slowly he released my fingers.

“Good night, Aubrey,” he murmured, pulling his paint-stained hoodie up over his head and turning away.

“Hope is the thing with feathers—that perches in the soul—and sings the tune without the words—and never stops—at all,” Maxx said, his words drifting back to me in the cold, night air.

Why had he just quoted Emily Dickinson?

I stood there, flabbergasted, watching him walk down the sidewalk.

aubrey

for ten minutes I stood outside the movie theater wondering what had just happened. The childishly insecure part of me felt completely and totally rejected.

One minute Maxx had been kissing me; the next he was leaving me alone.

What. The. Hell?

If I was hoping to solve some of the mysteries of Maxx Demelo tonight, I was sadly disappointed.

I touched my lips gently with my fingers. My mouth was still bruised and tender, and the cold air stung my sensitive cheeks, rubbed raw by Maxx’s scruff. My body was strung tight, my heart felt abused and thrown away, and my head was yelling at me for being such a colossal idiot.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and checked the time. It was only ten o’clock. What kind of guy left the girl he’d been mauling for the last hour without a word? Without an explanation? And without offering to walk her home?

After my shock had worn off, it was quickly replaced with irritation and something akin to rip-his-balls-off rage.

I didn’t like being played. I didn’t take kindly to being made to look like a jackass. Well, fuck Maxx and all of his kissing awesomeness.