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“Fuck, Max,” he whispers between kisses. “If you only knew how many times I’ve fantasized about this moment.”

“Me too.”

My confession earns an immediate groan.

When I feel his tongue swipe over my bottom lip, his teeth nibbling at it as if asking permission to be let in, I welcome the invasion. His tongue slides into my mouth, not as a conqueror but as an explorer, needing to taste every secret I’ve been keeping from him.

My heart feels like it’s about to explode from my chest, our erratic breathing becoming the loudest symphony I’ve ever heard.

When I feel something hard poking my thigh, Milo immediately pulls away, gasping for air.

“I think we should stop,” he breathes out hard, his lids half-mast.

“But why?” I ask.

Or am I whining? Honestly, I couldn’t care less right now how I sound.

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

“That’s okay. Take advantage,” I say, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down on me again.

Unable to stop himself, Milo kisses me again, our tongues now caught in a tug-of-war, while our hands slide under our shirts, craving the feel of smooth skin underneath. I gasp into his mouth when I feel his hand sprawled over my belly, his touch coaxing an ache between my thighs.

My entire body feels like a live wire—a spark away from exploding. The ache becomes so unbearable that I find myself throwing my leg over his, the friction coaxing me to whimper into our kiss.

“Enough!” he whisper-yells, propping himself up on his forearms, a crimson flush spreading across his cheeks.

Kill me now. Milo Fletcher blushing should not be doing the things it’s doing to me.

“Just one more,” I say, curling my hand around his nape and pulling him back down to me.

I smile against his lips when they crash into mine. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, goosebumps rising across his skin even with my lightest touch. Milo is seemingly powerless to resist me.

“You’re killing me here, Morgan,” he chokes out once I’ve given back some breathing room.

“Then stop being so noble, Fletcher,” I laugh softly, still running my fingers through his curls, staring at his face as if it were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Trust me, I don’t feel too noble,” he grumbles, his attention falling back to my lips. “Okay, just one more.”

My laugh dies a quick death when Milo presses his lips against mine once again. And for the rest of the night, one more becomes two, then three, until we eventually lose count altogether.

Dawn is already creeping through my bedroom window by the time exhaustion finally catches up with us. Neither of us wants to close our eyes, as if falling asleep meant surrendering a night we’re not ready to let go of.

Still, our bodies eventually make the decision for us, and somewhere between one kiss and the next, we drift off in each other’s arms.

“Damn it!” Milo shouts, waking me up.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“It’s noon. Fuck. My dad is going to go ballistic when he realizes I didn’t go home last night. Which he’ll definitely figure out if I don’t make it to Sunday lunch. Shit.”

I can’t help but laugh as I watch him struggle to find his shoes while cursing like a sailor.

I prop myself up on my elbows and eye him up and down. His hair is all over the place, his T-shirt wrinkled, and his perfect pouty lips still a little swollen. Even if he does make it to family lunch, with the cute little hickey on his neck, there’s no way his dad won’t notice what Milo has been up to.

“This isn’t funny,” he says with a chuckle after finding his jacket

“Then why are you laughing?”