Page 43 of WASP

“Always.”

“I almost like doing the ‘boring’ things better. It’s easy to find someone to do the exciting parts of life with, but do you know how hard it is to find someone who you have mundane moments compatibility with?” She reached into the paper bag, producing the final item—a loaf of sourdough bread—and handed it to Max, who set it on the counter next to them.

Annie inhaled deeply, very aware that Max had moved inside her personal space bubble, the thrill of excitement shooting through her at the proximity.

“I like that take,” Max said simply, eyelids heavy as her gaze dropped to Annie’s mouth for the umpteenth time that day—at this point Annie had lost count, and Max had stopped trying to hide the action.

Her pulse quickened as Max shifted closer still, but it was Annie who—astounding even herself—made the final surge forward, her lips meeting Max’s, hands flying up to cup her angular jaw, bringing their mouths closer still, their breath commingling in gasps of surprise and release. Their bodies pressed together, Max pushing her back against the island counter, the drawer-pull digging uncomfortably into Annie’s lower back, but she didn’t care because she was kissing Max and Max’s hands were on her body.

Max, they had established, was a top lip kisser, which paired perfectly with Annie’s bottom lip preference—another mark on the list titled “Max.” Kiss compatibility: check.

A moan escaped her as Max sucked on her bottom lip, nibbling gently, making Annie’s hips rock forward against hers. Max groaned into her mouth, a guttural, primal sound, hands moving down Annie’s sides, over her hips.

“Wha—” She gasped as Max’s hands ran over her ass and lower still, hoisting her up and onto the counter, stepping perfectly into the empty space between Annie’s now parted thighs, never breaking their kiss.

The change in position sent a jolt of excitement through Annie’s veins, straight to her core, as she wrapped her legs around Max’s torso. Using the opportunity to her advantage, Annie slowed the frantic kiss. She slid her hands from Max’s jaw down her front, grazing delicately over her breasts before continuing further still, tugging at the fabric as she went.

Max reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and made quick work of it, discarding it on the checkered linoleum floor and—wow, Max looked perfect standing there in a white tanktop, and no bra, chest heaving. The hardened peaks of her nipples were visible against the ribbed fabric and shit—Annie wanted to duck her head and take one in her mouth that instant.

“C’mere,” Max said hoarsely, voice raspy with the want she clearly held for Annie as she slid a hand around the back of her neck, pulling their lips together again. The cool surface of the granite countertop seeped through Annie’s jeans, reminding her exactly where she was and exactly why they couldn’t go there yet.

One month.

The words echoed in her head, reminding her that she was still very much healing, and as much as she wanted to say fuck it and see what happened if she let this moment continue to play out—god, she really, really wanted to—she couldn’t. She didn’t want that. She wanted to be sure she was in a good place before fully opening that door with Max.

Max trailed kisses down her jaw, expertly moving to her neck where she sucked lightly at the sensitive area below Annie’s ear, making her shiver. Annie mustered all the willpower needed for the herculean effort to put a stop to this. “Max,” she breathed, her voice hot and heavy as she pressed her palms to Max’s chest, pushing gently. “Max, wait.”

Max stopped instantly, her lips stilling against her skin, pulling back, forehead coming to rest on Annie’s collarbone. The space between them filled with ragged, excited breaths, and for a moment, neither moved as they listened to each other breathe before Max lifted her head, looking at Annie with wide eyes and blown pupils.

“Too much?” She grinned, biting her lower lip in a way that captivated Annie.

She toyed with the dark strands of Max’s wavy ponytail, enjoying that even though she had put a stop to things, Max hadn’t fully stepped away. She still stood firmly between Annie’s spread legs, body leaning into hers, hands resting on her upper thighs.

“Not too much,” she whispered, thumb brushing over Max’s cheek, dropping to rest on top of hers. “I—I think I still need a little bit of time.” Her fingers grazed across the backs of Max’s hands as Max flexed, squeezing her legs reassuringly.

“One month to go, right?” Max said with a cocky smile, her dark eyelashes fluttering. “Not that I’ve been counting or anything.”

Annie laughed, playfully pushing Max away as she unwrapped her legs from around her waist, gracefully sliding off the counter. “Thanks for understanding,” she said softly. “I just—” She searched for words, feeling the overwhelming need to explain to make sure Max knew this wasn’t a rejection. The familiar flare of courage welled in her as she decided to give her the truth. “You feel really special, Max. I don’t want to mess that up by not being fully ready yet.”

Max’s lips pursed together, holding back her smile at the statement she had dropped between them—the confirmation of the feelings she had been holding for weeks now.

“Kind of sounds like you like me,” Max teased, a smile breaking out across her face, eyes sparkling with her delight. The comment earned her an eyeroll from Annie. “Good things take time, right?” She glanced at the clock on the oven. “Speaking of time…” Max tilted her head, and Annie followed her gaze to the green glowing numbers. Four twenty-five. Her nail appointment.

“Crap.” Annie moved quickly towards the door, sliding her boots back on as Max leaned against the fridge, still in her tank top and ripped jeans, looking so incredibly perfect. “I’m definitely going to get an earful for being late.” Her eyes trailed up Max’s body, lingering on the shadows created by the peaks of her nipples still visible through the thin fabric. “Very, very worth it,” she muttered.

Max grinned, holding the door open for her but before Annie dipped out into the cold, she slipped her hand around the back of Max’s neck one more time, placing a chaste kiss to her soft lips.

“Thank you for the time,” she whispered, slipping out of the apartment and down the wooden stairs.

Eleven minutes later, Annie pushed through the door of the McCallum-Windsor salon and spa, serving up a swift apology to the receptionist behind the desk. She picked her nail polish color, a deep purple for her toes and a neutral beige for her nails, and followed the receptionist back to the pedicure room where her mom and Avery were already seated in the plush massage chairs, pants rolled up to their knees, feet soaking in fragrant water.

Annie climbed into the seat next to her mother.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” her mom said smugly, holding a copy of Wellington Point Living, the local community magazine. The glossy image of Kent McHenry, Caroline’s father and town commissioner, stared back at her. “So much for breakfast not taking all day,” she hummed with a tone that said I told you so.

Annie rolled up her pant legs, dipping her feet one by one into the hot, soothing water.

“Mom said you’ve been hanging out a lot with that girl who works for Jack’s parents? Is she the one who always looks angry?” Avery asked, not looking up from her phone where she was scrolling through an endless loop of videos.