Max (The Casanova Club Book 12) Read online

We still had more time.

  Max held my face in his hands and wiped my tears with his thumbs. Our foreheads were pressed together, and our eyes were closed as the limo rolled over the sidewalk and onto his street. I breathed in the smell of him and basked in his aura and the comfort of his touch.

  “My hero,” I whispered.

  Max and I sat as close as we could get for the duration of the drive to the hangar where his plane was without me being in his lap. Once Jonathan pulled up to the runway where the plane was already waiting for us, we got out, collected my bags, and I said my goodbyes to the driver.

  “It’s been a real pleasure, Piper James,” Jonathan said as he clasped my hands between his. “A real honest pleasure.”

  “Thank you for everything, Jonathan. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, my dear. You too.”

  Max and I boarded the plane and took our seats.

  The plane was bright and airy with cream-colored leather seats, beige floors, and white accents. It spoke of elegance and sophistication and simplicity, and I imagined Max spent a lot of time in this beast when he had to travel for work.

  A flight attendant poured us each a glass of champagne after takeoff. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t nervous about flying. With Max around, I hardly ever felt nervous about anything.

  I studied the man before me as he raised his champagne to his lips and watched me over the rim.

  He was what dreams were made of. There was no other way to explain it.

  He was gracious and full of life. He was complicated, withdrawn, and open all at once. He was a smooth talker and an even smoother kisser. He laughed harder and louder than anyone I knew, and more often. He was warm and soft in all the right places—hard in all the right places too.

  And for thirty days, he’d been mine.

  “These are our last moments together before everything changes,” Max said as he set his champagne flute down. “For both of us. How do we want to spend them, Pipes?”

  My nickname on his lips set my soul on fire.

  I put my champagne down. There were different rules on a plane like this compared to the regular jetliners. I didn’t have to stay in my seat. I didn’t have to do anything other than enjoy this man and the final hours we had in each other’s company.

  I pushed off my seat, went to him, and draped myself over his lap, hooking my arms behind his neck. “I can think of one or two things we could do.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

  “It may not be the morning between the sheets you wanted, but it’s close enough, right?”

  Max trailed a finger from my knee to my hip and left his hand there. “I’ll settle for what I can get.”

  “You can get all of it,” I breathed.

  He opened his mouth to respond, but I trapped his words with a kiss, stole his breath with one of my own, and leaned into him. For the first time all day, things felt right again.

  “Not here,” Max said.

  “Where?”

  He gathered me up in his arms and lifted me as he stood. I held on with my fingers interlocked behind his neck as he carried me through the cabin and into a private room. It didn’t have a bed, but it did have a lounge chair that was bed-like.

  Max laid me down on it.

  Clouds floated by the window outside as the sky glowed from the sun, a fair white-washed blue that reminded me of my mother’s Easter Sunday tablecloth.

  Max descended upon me, bracing himself on the armrests, holding his weight above me with a knee planted between my thighs and his hands gripping the arms. The chair creaked, but only gently, and our lips came together in a symphony of kisses that, if they could play music, would have rang out songs of joy and love and heartache.

  And goodbyes.

  I ran a hand up his chest and over his shoulder. My touch snaked around to his back and then up to his neck, and I held him to me for all the kisses I could get. He seemed content there, hovering above me.

  The engines roared outside and hummed in our ears. If I paid attention, I could feel the rumble of the seat beneath me and hear the rattle of glasses out in the hall on a trolley cart.

  Max tugged at my leggings. I lifted my hips. He pushed the collar of my shirt aside, and I scrambled to pull it off over my head. He ran his hands along my bare belly and over my cleavage as my breath quickened and all the background noise faded away to nothing.

  The only thing in the sky was me and him.

  And the clouds.

  I tore Max’s shirt off of him, and he relieved me of my leggings. Soon, we were in nothing but our underwear. Those hit the floor too, but not before Max fished a condom out of his pocket.

  “Is this going to make it harder to say goodbye after we land?” I asked as he rolled the condom on.

  His brow furrowed, but he shook his head. “Who cares? It was always going to be hard.”

  He had a point.

  I drew him in for more breathless kisses, and he pinned me beneath him, lowering his hips to trail his cock along my pussy. I moaned into our kiss and willed him not to tease me. We didn’t have the time for sweet games.

  Max seemed to be on the same page. He eased himself inside me.

  I gasped.

  He groaned.

  The world dipped and spun as we made love. Goodbye felt far away as we were joined as one, and I let myself believe just for a little while longer that nothing could burst this bubble of joy I was safe in when I was with Max.

  Max pushed my legs back and eased deeper inside me.

  I stifled a cry into my arm, desperate to keep quiet so the flight staff didn’t know what we were up to. Although I was sure they had their suspicions. Max dropped his hips and pulled my arm away from my mouth to pin my wrists down on either side of my head.

  He grinned down at me like the devil.

  My breath hitched in my throat as he fucked me harder. Deeper.

  The moans on my lips turned into sighs which turned into half cries of pleasure as he quickened his pace. His jaw clenched, and my insides tightened, and we raced toward our climax together.

  He came hard and fast and didn’t relent until I joined in his pleasure. He still held himself above me with his elbows braced on either side of my head, and he kissed my jaw, my chin, my lips, my nose. He brushed my hair off my face and gazed into my eyes, and for a moment, I could have sworn he was counting my eyelashes and my freckles.

  I hoped he’d lose count and have to start all over again.

  It would buy us a little more time. A little more closeness.

  A little more of this silent moment of breathless surrender.

  It would buy me a little more Max.

  And I would give anything for a little more Max.

  The End

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  About the Author

  Ali Parker is a full-time contemporary and new adult romance writer with more than a hundred and twenty books behind her. She loves coffee, watching a great movie and hanging out with her hubs. By hanging out, she means making out. Hanging out is for those little creepy elves at Christmas. No tight green stockings for her.

  She’s an entrepreneur at heart and loves coming up with more ideas than any one person should be allowed to access. She lives in Texas with her hubs and three kiddos and looks forward to traveling the world in a few years. Writing under eleven pen names keeps her busy and allows her to explore all genres and types of writing.

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  Max: The Casanova Club #12


  Copyright © 2019 by Ali Parker

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.

  First Edition.

  Editor: Eric Martinez

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