Max holds my head gently and his mouth presses against mine in a perfect fit. He kisses me slowly . . . thoroughly. There’s no tongue, only the softness of his lips against mine and the possessive way in which he holds my head in place so I can’t escape him.

Not that I ever would want to. The only thing I want to do is press in closer to him, but I’m held by his strong hands so that he is in control.

So that his mouth is commanding mine what to do.

The kiss is slow, luxurious, and sweet. It’s like his lips belong on mine.

It feels so very right.

And I want so much more.

A yearning for something more hits me so hard, my knees almost buckle.

I want more of this beautiful, sweet, and generous man who for some strange reason sees something in me that he wants. For the longest time, I’ve not considered fulfilling any of my desires because I was a low priority in the grand scheme of things.

But Max has awakened something within me. He’s turned a spark into a flame. He’s made me believe I can be more, and he’s made me want more. And I’m not just talking about sexually. He’s made me want more from life.

Max has simply changed my life.

I have no control over myself. I move into him closer, slide my hands up his chest and around his neck. I press my body up against his and feel the hard muscled planes I suspected were under his clothes. Max groans in response and one hand goes to the back of my head where he wraps my ponytail around his fist, while the other slides down to grip my hip. He tilts his head, kisses me deeper, and there it is . . . his tongue slides in and I moan when it touches mine.

I burrow in even closer to Max, causing my breasts to mash into his lower chest and, oh my . . . his very hard and by the feel of it large erection presses into my lower belly.

The minute our bodies make contact in that sensual way, Max tears his mouth from mine. He looks down at me, his eyes darkened with need and his voice rough with desire. “I need to get going. Early day tomorrow.”

I nod in understanding, because I do happen to know that the first regular game of the season is tomorrow night and Max has told me game days are always hectic.

“That kiss,” he says, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard before and his hand tightening its hold on my ponytail.

“Yeah, that kiss,” I agree dreamily.

“Just the beginning, Jules,” he whispers before leaning in one more time and brushing his lips against my temple.

He then releases his hold on me, and I swear I just sway back and forth almost in a hypnotic daze.

Damn . . . that kiss was . . .

Just damn.

Max smirks at me and then turns toward his car, which I recognize as a BMW from the symbol on the back. “Let’s get the supplies transferred to your car.”

Wait! What?

“You mean you actually went out and bought supplies today?” I ask in astonishment as I come out of my fog and trot after him to his car.

“Yup,” is all he provides as he pulls his key fob out, aims it at the trunk and it opens it. And it’s like the angels above start singing and the glow on the supplies isn’t from the little light in his trunk but from God Himself.

I come to stand beside Max, my right arm brushing against his left. I look down at what he bought . . . tubes upon tubes of paint, brushes in all shapes and sizes, and a large gallon can of turpentine. I see a color wheel and a wood palette. He clearly had someone helping him pick out all of the right supplies for me.

“I’ve got several gallery canvases in the backseat,” he says quietly.

I don’t even know what to say, so I just reach over and slip my hand into his while I stare at the abundance before me. He squeezes my fingers gently and I squeeze back.

I shake my head slowly in disbelief, still staring at the supplies, and whisper, “Why are you such a good guy, Max?”

“It’s easy for the right girl,” he says back.

“And how do you know I’m the right girl?” I ask as I finally turn my head and peer up at him.

His hand squeezes mine again and he smiles. “I don’t know it. I just feel it.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I tell him with an answering smile.

Chapter 9

Max

“We’re out of here,” Hawke says as he grabs Vale’s hand and pulls her up from the bed and to the hotel door. Garrett and I grin at each other. The four of us decided for a low-key night after our game in Toronto, choosing to stay at the hotel for pizza, beer, and poker over going out to celebrate our win.

I chuckle as Garrett swipes the cards they’d just laid down on the table. Vale had a full house but Hawke had four queens. The bet was that the loser would get tied up and the winner would . . . well . . . the winner I’m sure would find something to do with the tied up loser.

My chest gives a happy squeeze for my buddy as I watch him drag Vale out the door. I’m glad his room isn’t right beside mine as I do not want to hear the headboard knocking against the wall all night. It will only reinforce to me that I’m not getting any right now, a fact that has made me perpetually horny for Jules.

“Want another beer?” I ask Garrett as I pull a fresh one out of the little minifridge.

“Sure,” he says, and I take another out, walk across the room and hand it to him. I take my previously vacated seat and plop down before taking a sip of my beer. I turn my wrist over on my opposite hand, see it’s about 11:30 p.m. by my watch and figure I’ve got a little time to kill before I call Jules. I’m sort of glad Garrett wanted to have another beer, because I wanted to ask him something.

Ideally, I’d probably talk to Hawke. Although I’m good buds with most of the guys on the team, Hawke and I just seem to click. However, he’s off with Vale and has his own set of problems with her, plus . . . Garrett’s just a bit better suited for what I want to know.

“You got that look,” Garrett says as he gazes at me across the table. He’s leaning back, legs stretched out in front of him and his bottle of beer perched on his stomach.

“What look is that?” I ask.

“Well, let’s see if I can break this down,” Garrett says as he sits up on his chair a bit. “You’ve been officially named as the starting goalie for the Cold Fury. Had a great preseason, did even better in the home opener on Tuesday, and tonight you got a shutout. You are fire on the ice—which is a weird analogy now that I think about it—but still, you are off to a hell of a start. And yet, you’re a little too laid back right now. I know you, dude, and when you come off a win, you’re the type that’s buzzing with energy. You want to go out and party with your teammates and relive the glory of the victory. But tonight you choose to chill out after a fucking shutout, and you look happy but mellow and even a little bit perplexed.”