Vivian Arend - Turn It Up

“Okay, let’s look this over. I hope you don’t mind if I play with it a bit?”

“Of course not. I want this to work for you as well—it’s got to be fair and right for us both. I think we should probably get some papers drawn up formally.” She curled her legs up beside her, leaning against his side before she’d realized it. The warmth of his body helped keep her jitters away, and she gave in to the temptation to stay there. “I guess the main things are making sure that we’ve got this figured out financially, and with the family. If for some reason I can’t get pregnant, I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped into staying with me.”

Max hummed as he added notes to the paper. “If you can’t get pregnant, it could be my fault. We’ll deal with it if that happens. Worst-case scenario—have you thought about adopting?”

She shrugged. “I have, but that wouldn’t be anything for you to be concerned about.”

He twisted to face her. “You’re simply not getting it, are you? There is no difference between a child that pops from your body, and one you adopt. They both need family around. I’m in, for the long haul. If we make a baby, great. If not, we adopt and the Turner clan will grow that way.”

The lump in her throat was enormous. She was smart enough to bite back the words asking if he was sure. The expression on his face said he was.

“Tasha? Did you understand what I said?”

She nodded, and he crossed off one of her paragraphs on the prenatal agreement. The only out-clause she’d given him.

He pointed down the page. “You don’t have to worry about the money part. I’ve got a fair bit saved up, and this house can be sold. We can set up some accounts together and some apart—however you feel the most comfortable, but I can tell you right now I make enough to support us both.”

She pressed her hand over his mouth. “Junior, I’m not worried about the money. I trust you. My God, you’re a genius. If anything, you should have the papers drawn up so my business doesn’t suck yours under. That’s not what I want to tell you.”

He leaned back, twisting to the side against the arm of the couch so he could face her.

“I’m not in love with you.”

Max shrugged. “I didn’t say you were.”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m not planning on falling in love with you. I mean, I like you, and I admire you. But I want us to be there for this baby, and that’s the bottom line. This isn’t about roses and poetry. It’s a commitment to the family, and friendship. Nothing more.”

He didn’t even blink. “Okay.”

That easy? Tasha looked for even a glimmer of amusement or ridicule on his face. It wasn’t there. In fact, his expression was basically unreadable. “Okay?”

Max reached and cupped her chin. His thumb brushed against her cheek softly. “I said before that we were going into this by choice. I choose to be with you. You’ve made my motor run over the years, but I’ve also admired your work and your energy and your enthusiasm for life. That’s why I want to be with you. I don’t need any mystical emotional rush to convince me to entangle my future with yours.”

Tasha stared at him. With one word, her life would change, the entire direction she’d set in motion blown apart. Was it really the right thing to do?

“Friends?” she asked.

“As always. And lovers. Hopefully soon, parents.” She nodded. Maxwell’s gaze shifted away from her eyes and dropped to where she’d nervously bit her lower lip. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

He leaned forward and caught her mouth against his.

Max had been longing for this moment. He understood why she felt they had to talk through the situation, but as far as he was concerned, all the rest of the details were minor irritations they could deal with anytime. As he kissed her, her mouth opening under his caress, he was struck by how perfect it was, to be here in his house for their first time together. The place he’d established as part of his independence. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangled her fingers in his hair and all thought fled, replaced instead by a fever in his veins that threatened to ignite his whole body. Her lips were soft, but her kisses were as demanding as his own. There was no pretending that she didn’t want him, no pretense this was some clinical motion they were going to complete.

Max twisted her on the couch, adjusting so she lay half under him, her body resting on the firm surface, his body resting on hers and his mind boggled. Warm thighs, soft breasts, those lips that continued to drive him mad with slow, wet kisses. The urge to speed up, to eat her hungrily was dismissed in a flash—this was too important to skip the preliminaries. They may have been friends forever, but the lovers bit was shiny and new. Even as eager as he was, he had enough control for that. Maybe.

The kissing went on and on, her mouth beckoning him back. He longed to unwrap her, take this to the logical conclusion, but the distraction of her willing lips was irresistible nectar. She touched and teased with her tongue, a temptress with enough skill to make his knees weak.

Tasha unbuttoned his shirt, kissed along his jaw then bit his neck. He rolled them slightly to one side to let him get at her clothing. He smoothed a hand along the curve of her breast, down her waist, over the swell of her hip until he could cup her ass and pull her close. His cock ached, and grinding against her gave only a momentary relief. He needed to strip her bare, haul her to the edge of the couch and drive in as deep as he could.

Her tongue was doing wicked things to his neck but he wanted more than her lips on his skin. He dug his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back until her mouth was in reach and he could kiss her again. He reveled in her taste, but mostly he enjoyed the eager way she returned his touch.

Their hands were everywhere—opening shirts, tugging fabric from shoulders. They twisted together, staying in contact, feverishly connecting skin on skin as Max sat up and Tasha crawled over him, straddling his lap to return to kissing once more. It was like they were starving, and somehow sharing air would help them survive. He’d lost his shirt, she’d lost hers. Her bra still separated them and he wrapped her close, massaging her back, the warmth of her skin under his palms making him crazy.

It took three attempts to get the damn bra fastener open, and by that time Tasha was laughing, her soft giggles against his lips making him smile.

“Such smooth moves…”

“Distraction—my coordination can’t take it. Holy shit, you’re gorgeous.” Max pulled the straps from her shoulders and stared as her breasts were revealed. He looked up into her eyes, heat reflecting back at him. “Seriously gorgeous.”

He brushed a tender kiss on her lips before leaning back to admire her again. His mouth had gone totally dry.

The full swells of her breasts moved uneasily with her erratic breathing. He cupped one, lifting its heavy weight into his hand as he bent forward to lick the tip. A small sound escaped her. Tasha held his head and pulled him closer, and he gave in to what he’d longed for ever since her birthday. He latched onto the nipple and sucked it into his mouth, playing his tongue over the tip. The peak tightened and he nibbled lightly on the rigid point, pulling off with a slight suction to start all over on the other side.

He was in heaven. Warm skin, lovely heavy tits to enjoy, Tasha making the most fabulous noises in response to his actions. She rocked over him, her crotch heavy against his groin. The heat of her body bled down to entice him with the need to be surrounded by her, squeezing him close. Suddenly the couch was an absolutely rotten place to be, and he seized her under the hips and shuffled upright. Tasha grabbed his neck with a squeal.