A Midsummer Night's Fling (Much Ado about Love #1) (22 page)

* * *

N
icola climbed
on top of him, and Max nearly came his brains out right there. Her soft thighs bracketed his hips, and her warm, wet pussy hovered above the head of his cock. It had been
so
long. Yes, the costume shop had been hot, but there had been no time to savor then, to tease and taste. His skin felt as if it were straining, stretched to the breaking point trying to contain this arousal. Nicola leaned over him, reaching into the nightstand for a condom. Her breast hovered, a ripe apple, and he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Her gasp broke in half, and she arched into him. He danced his hands over her body as he suckled, reveling in the texture of her skin, the smell of her hair, the moans breaking from her mouth.
Nicola
. A sharp thread wound inside him, like a rope being coiled, a snare pulled taut as he remembered a thousand nights like this, touching her, holding her, having her. Back then, he’d thought it impossible those nights should end, unthinkable that there could ever be a “last time” to make love to Nicola.

She eased away from his mouth, and the foil on the condom crinkled. Max blinked and swallowed.
Focus on now
. Yes, he would fill his cup with now. With Nicola
here
in this moment with him.

She rolled the condom over his cock, and he jumped at the feel of her fingertips touching him. She lifted her hips, her hands pressed against his stomach, and he strained to keep himself from bucking against her, from just pulling her down onto him.

“Ready?” she asked.

He was flexing every muscle he had, rigid, waiting for her. Ready? Nothing could make him ready for this, not again. His want for her was like a craving that had crawled under his skin and made every cell in his body ache. He gritted his teeth. Ready?

Fuck yes
.

But all he could do was nod.

She sank onto him, biting her lip, and whispered “
Oh
” in a voice of choked ecstasy.

Warmth and wetness surrounded him. She rocked her hips against him, and Max locked his jaw, palming the ripe peach of her ass, savoring the flexing of her firm muscles as she moved over him. “
Nicci
. You feel so good.” He strained and arched, pushing up deeper into her.
So. Fucking. Good
.

“Oh God.
Max
.”

She increased her rhythm, and he gazed down to see his cock arrowing into her, to see where their bodies were joined. She pressed on his shoulders, riding him, grinding against his hips. A bolt of pleasure ripped through him, exploding outward from the epicenter of their joined bodies. He groaned.

“Max,” she panted and rocked, and then she gasped and fell onto his chest, her hips still making small, exhausted thrusts.

He grinned into her hair, enjoying the softness of it against his cheek. “Orgasm number two?”

Nicola laughed into his neck. “Orgasm number two.” She pushed herself to sit straight, sinking onto him, taking him deep inside her. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, the muscles in her face jumping. “You feel so
good
.”

He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her, a warm, open kiss as sweet as vintage wine. He tipped her into a sitting position with him on the bed, and she tangled her arms around him, pressing their bodies together, her breasts crushed against his chest. She rained kisses over his face and eyelids, his hair, on his shoulders, and then she bit the side of his neck.

He pinched his eyes closed, and a warm wash of gratitude flowed though him in tingling waves.
Nicola. Nicola. Mine
. A part of him lost and mourned. But now reclaimed, reunited. He kissed her and eased her backward onto the mattress. Her ankles dug into his thighs, and she tilted her hips to take him deeper. He shook as he positioned himself between her thighs and buried himself in her body again. And again.

Over and over, he thrust into her with a pleasure so immense, it felt catastrophic, as if he would totally obliterate himself in this consummation. He didn’t want to stop. To separate. To leave her again, lose her.

But his hips and his cock and the aching need in his body whipped him onward, and he lost himself in the feel of her warm skin against him, her muscles flexing under him, the fragile beauty of her bones, the softness of her hair against his wrist. A tidal wave of pleasure and feeling and regret crashed over his head and tumbled his thoughts like a toy ship in a hurricane. He cried out and rocked against her.
One second more. More
.
More
.

And then the tide rolled over him, away from him, and he could breathe again and think. Mostly.

He’d collapsed onto Nicola at some point, squishing her body into the mattress. Alarmed, he started to roll off her, but she twined her legs and arms around him, holding him in place above her, inside her. He blinked, feeling dazed and tingly and happy. So fucking happy.

Her mouth twitched in a grin. “Good one?”

He bent and licked into her mouth, massaging her tongue, drinking in her taste. When he pulled back, she was the one who looked dazed. He kissed her nose and beamed. “You have no idea.”

* * *

N
icola hadn’t meant
to sleep with Max after she’d
slept
with Max. She thought it would be more discreet if they occupied separate bedrooms, especially if Lachlan woke in the night and went exploring. But, after that fantastic bout of sex with Max, she was pretty much boneless, a melted pile of satisfied womanhood, and moving was the last,
the very last
, thing she wanted to do.

Max was snoring by the time she returned from the bathroom. He was warm and big, his body firm and beautiful, so she just sort of snuggled up to him and closed her eyes to rest them. On the cusp of her falling asleep, a low rumbling voice, not even awake, murmured, “Love you, Nicci…”

Nicola smiled and slept.

* * *

T
he next thing she knew
, she was awake, wallowing in that warm soupy sea of not-quite-consciousness. She glanced at the dark window and wondered what had disturbed her, but then the bedroom door opened, and a beam of light lanced into the room to blind her and dance over Max’s naked body.

Max stirred and rolled to his side, slinging an arm around her waist to spoon her back against his front. “Go away, Lachlan,” he muttered.

But the man who stood silhouetted in the doorway was buffer than Lachlan. Familiar…

“What the fuck is this shit?” the man in the doorway said.

Yup. Familiar
. Nicola flinched, and Max jerked beside her, jolting wide awake. His muscles went rigid, and the erection that had been starting wilted against her bottom.

The man flicked on the bedroom light. Max groaned, rolling away from her, and threw an arm over his eyes to block out the piercing light, or the newcomer’s presence. Or both.

Nicola offered the newcomer a tentative grin as she kept the sheet pinned against her chest. “Hi, Peter. Long time no see.”

M
ax and Peter
didn’t look much alike. That was always her first thought when she saw the two together. Max was fair and blue-eyed, with a cheerful heartiness about him that made people take him for a dumb blond. Peter had thick dark hair and hazel eyes and a concentrated intensity that made you want to stay on your toes.

Or at least Nicola always imagined she was tiptoeing on eggshells when she was around Max’s brother. She could easily imagine the wafer-thin, sharp little shards sticking into the pads of her feet as she and Max dressed while Peter waited in the hall. Feeling ridiculous, she bounced on one foot, hopping to get into her leggings. “What is Peter doing here?”

“I don’t know.” That one muscle in Max’s jaw kept flexing, and his right eye was twitching. He’d kicked into his jeans—sans underwear—and zipped the pants without buttoning them, leaving his hipbones showing. The sight would have been downright drool-worthy if only Peter weren’t loitering outside.

Max stomped toward the door, had his hand on the knob, then turned back and rushed toward her. He caught her mouth in a firm, wet kiss she had to bend her head to take. As they eased apart, she fought for breath. Max cupped her neck and leaned his forehead against hers. “I had a good time, Nic.”

She traced his cheek, concerned. Why did he look so solemn? So worried? “Me too.”

Max kissed her again, softly, then he broke away and stomped to the door, throwing it open.

The brothers faced each other, framed by the doorway.

Peter was as insanely tall as Max with the same broad-shouldered, slim-hipped physique. Max was buffer than Peter these days, but Peter had a better tan, his skin a deep burnished bronze. Peter also had a boyishly good-looking face, while Max had a more classical sort of handsomeness—the teen heartthrob meets the Greek god. Equally attractive in their own way but very different.

“Nothing going on with Nicola, huh?” Peter glanced at her over Max’s shoulder and gave her a small wave. “Hi, Nic. Sorry about barging in. I wasn’t expecting naked people.”

She swallowed and raised her hand. “Hi, Pete. Um, it’s all right.”

Max folded his arms, his voice was like a whiplash, sharp, cracking with anger. “I thought you were in Vancouver, Pete. You said you would
call
. I didn’t think you would be in town for
weeks
.”

Nicola shifted on her feet, pressing against the wall. It’d been years since she’d seen the two together, and years since she’d played bystander to one of their fights. She grimaced.
I didn’t miss it
.

Peter folded his massive arms, mirroring Max, and glowered. “They cut my last scene, so I wrapped the shoot early, and I wanted to come for a visit.” Peter shifted on his feet, his posture more unyielding, and now he did include Nicola in his glowering.
Great
. “What’s going on, you two?”

“Is that your business?” Max said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “We talked about this, Max.”

Nicola frowned. “You two talked about me?”

Max cast her a quick, unreadable glance, then faced Peter. “Yeah, I kissed Nicola.”

Peter scoffed, “And then some.”

“And I’m planning to do it again,” Max fired back.

Good
. Nicola’s stomach wobbled with a shaky sort of thrill.

“
Sooooo
.” Max drew the word out as he leaned on the doorframe, clutching the door with one hand—ready to slam it shut in his brother’s face. “You can punch me later, Peter.”

She blinked. “Why is Peter punching you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Max shouldered past his brother into the hallway. He flung open a linen cabinet and hauled out lilac floral sheets and pillowcases. Apparently, Max had never bought his own sheets after his mother left. He shoved the girly sheets at Peter. “I promised Nicola could have the spare room tonight. You can take Lachlan’s room.” He leaned forward, his voice a low growl. “Be grateful I’m giving you clean sheets.”

Peter caught the sheets against his chest with one hand. “Lach’s room?” He wrinkled his nose. “Everything smells like cigarettes in there.”

Max rolled one shoulder, shrugging, his face set. “Call first next time. Or go to a hotel.”

“Did you forget who owns this place, Maxi-dear?”

“Did you forget you’re an asshole?” Max said, looking mulish.

Peter made an exasperated noise in his throat, then smiled politely at Nicola. “Nic, would you excuse me while I talk to my brother?”

I should leave, let them sort it out
. She didn’t have a claim on Max anymore. Leaving would be the mature thing to do.
Right. Yes
. She glanced over at Max.
I don’t
wanna
leave
.

Peter seemed to sense her hesitation, and his scowl deepened. Max grinned at her, the laugh lines around his eyes showing, and Nicola thought,
Yeah
,
I’m not going anywhere
.

With a groan of exasperation, Peter started across the hall. Before he reached the other room, he stopped and turned back. “Wait a minute, if you two started up again, then why is Nicola sleeping in the guest room?”

Nicola opened her mouth, then froze.
Good question
. She jerked her head over to meet Max’s irritated gaze.

He ran a hand over his face and rubbed at his temples. “You’re kind of a mood killer, Peter.”

Peter brightened at this and marched himself into Lachlan’s room. He closed the door.

“Nic—” Max started toward her, reaching for her hand.

The other door popped open, and Peter stuck his head out, grinning. “
Good night!
” he bellowed.

Max flipped Peter the bird over his shoulder. Nicola stood on her tiptoes and stuck her tongue out at Peter over Max’s shoulder too.

Peter winked at her. “I did miss you, Nic. Sleep tight, kids.” He shut the door.

Max paused, head cocked, and Nicola also held her breath, waiting to see if Peter would return. When he didn’t, after a long moment, they stared at each other.

The bulk of the whole house seemed to be weighing Nicola down. Max appeared equally daunted. Peter’s appearance was a bit like having the wrecking ball of their past crash through the bedroom wall. Their night now felt like a timeout, a stolen interlude. As if they’d found a window to the past and climbed through together, but now the glass was broken and they had to figure out a way to scrape the pieces off the floor bare-handed. “Peter really is a mood killer,” she muttered.

“Story of my life.” Max rolled his eyes.

She twisted her hands together. Her body was still tingling, loose-limbed and languid from their earlier lovemaking, but her stomach was churning.

He reached up, hesitated, then cradled her jaw, smoothing his thumb along her cheekbone. “Shall I sleep in my room for the rest of the night?”

NO
. The thought seemed to tear itself straight from her chest, a visceral, gut-level certainty. But still she found herself avoiding his gaze and nodding. They’d managed to wade through their past for these few stolen hours, but now they were drowning in it again.

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her arm. “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“All right.”

She returned to the guest room and stretched out on the bed, but the smell of Max was all over the sheets, the mattress still warm from his body.
Love you, Nicci
, he’d said. But he’d been sleeping. But maybe he meant it?

Do I want him to mean it?

She buried her face in his pillow, waiting for morning to come and her good sense to return.

* * *

M
ax hovered
until Nicola’s door closed, then he set his jaw and made his way to Lachlan’s bedroom. He wanted to bang on the door, knock it down to get at Peter, but he didn’t want to disturb Nicola. So he settled for opening the door without knocking and closing it firmly behind himself.

Peter lay on the edge of Lachlan’s bed, snoring already. For the first time, Max noticed the circles around his brother’s eyes, the hollows under his cheeks. Peter had to be exhausted to go from a fight to unconscious in under ten minutes.
Poor Pete
.

Max put his hands under his brother’s arm and flipped him over. Peter startled awake, flailed, rolled, then fell backward off the bed to land on the floor with a satisfying
thud
.

Peter clawed his way upright using the edge of the bed. “What the
fuck,
Max?”

“What are you doing here, Pete? What are you
really
doing here?”

Peter pushed to his feet and cracked his spine. He turned from Max, sitting on the foot of the bed. “I was worried about my idiot baby brother. Things didn’t end well the last time you tried to make it work with Nicola.”

“You didn’t fly back from Vancouver just to get me away from Nicola.”

Peter threw his hands up, his face stiff with annoyance. “No, I’m visiting Ma too. I told you that. I’ve also got a meeting with my agent and my manager. My publicist. All the usual LA bullshit errands I have to do when I’m in town. You know the drill.”

“No.” Max clenched his hands, his blood firing with anger, a hot, pulsing anger, which wasn’t entirely Peter’s fault. But it was Peter’s problem now. “Your people come to you if it’s urgent. There’s something else. What is it?”

“Max—” Peter stood and tried to shove past him.

Max caught his brother’s shoulder, holding Peter still. Max’s hands were shaking. “You are not doing this to me again. You fucking asshole. Don’t do this to me again. How can you do this to me
again
?”

“What are you talking about?” Peter’s gaze slid away as he said it.

“Henry the fucking Fifth!
” Max yelled. “You came into town to meet with Isabelle about the part. Didn’t you?”

Peter patted Max’s arm, his voice gentle. “Nothing’s decided.”

Max’s blood seemed to pop inside him, actually boiling. “I’ve worked my ass off at that company. I’ve studied Shakespeare. I’ve done three full seasons with the RSF, and you fucking waltz in and get Henry handed to you. This is such
bullshit
. You don’t even know what iambic pentameter is!” Max shoved Peter’s hand away and stalked toward the door.

Peter bounded after him. Max grabbed the door handle, but Peter slapped a palm against the wood, holding the bedroom door closed when Max tried to pull it open. “Max, I’m at a critical point in my career. I want to break out of the stone-faced, heartthrob-hero roles. Doing something like
Henry V
with a bit more gravitas could help, could show people in this town that I’m not a one-trick pony.”

“Right.” Maybe this one hurt so much because Isabelle knew Max, knew what he was capable of, how diligently he worked, but she was still willing to throw Max over to work with Peter instead. “You need this opportunity so you’ll screw me over to get it. That’s fine, Petey. At least I’m used to it.”

“It’s only a meeting, and I only took it because I was coming down here anyway for
you
. I’m worried about
you
—”

Max shouldered Peter aside and yanked the door open. “Save it.”