Page 6 of Maxwell

“Once again, we have something in common, because neither am I.”

“Glad we understand each other.” She glanced back at the table where her friends were. “Let’s go back to my place. I just need to tell my friends I’m leaving.”

He smiled slowly. “I’m following your lead.”

She took his hand, and he followed behind, his eyes lingering on the snug fit of her jeans and her bare back in the halter top. He might be the luckiest man alive tonight.

Usually he needed a line to get a woman into bed, but every now and again he met a modern woman like Jasmine who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. Even better, he didn’t have to pretend he was looking for a relationship when he wasn’t, because she wasn’t either.

When they arrived at the table, only three of the women were there. Jayson and Catsuit were missing.

“No. You’re not leaving,” one of Jasmine’s other friends wailed, disappointment on her face.

Jasmine picked up a black clutch from the seat. “Take a picture of him.”

“I promise I won’t kill you,” Maxwell said, squinting when her friend’s camera flashed as she took his photo.

“If you do, you’re going under the jail. I’ll make sure of it,” her friend said.

“Guys, could we please not talk about my untimely demise. Make sure Lauren gets home safely. She’s been drinking all night.” Jasmine directed her gaze at their friend with the veil.

“Are you sure about this?” her friend asked, giving Maxwell the once-over.

“I’ll be fine.” Jasmine peered over her shoulder at him. “I have pepper spray and a gun, and I know how to use both.”

He raised his eyebrows but remained silent. He didn’t want to say anything to screw up his chances of getting laid by this goddess.

The fake future bride, seeing Jasmine with her purse in hand, staggered over and flung an arm around her friend, leaning heavily into her as her gaze swept Maxwell from head to toe. “Well, well, well, lucky you. If I weren’t getting married⁠—”

“Save your breath. I already told him,” Jasmine said.

“Dammit, Jasmine. You’re such a killjoy,” her friend whined. “Go. Have fun. We’ll probably stay another thirty minutes or so and then it’s arrivederci to this place.” Lauren pulled Jasmine into what appeared to be an extra tight bear hug. “We gotta do this again soon.”

“Yes, we must,” Jasmine said, sounding strangled. Finally, she disentangled herself from Lauren’s hold. “Bye-bye, ladies.”

“Take care of my girl!” Lauren yelled as they were walking away.

This time, Maxwell held Jasmine’s hand and led the way to the front door. Outside, he paused to send a text to Jayson, who quickly responded with a “lucky SOB” and an eggplant emoji. He laughed briefly.

“What’s so funny?” Jasmine asked.

“Nothing. Where’s your car?”

“Over there.” She pointed.

He walked with her in that direction, and she eventually stopped at a white Acura. “This is my car.” She gave him her home address.

“Got it.” Maxwell paused. “Do you really have a gun?”

“More than one.”

“Maybe I should be worried.” It wasn’t unheard of for women to scam men, robbing them or committing some act of violence, often with a co-conspirator.

Jasmine stepped closer, the corners of her mouth curving upward as her fingers curled into his shirt. She rose up on tiptoe and spoke softly. “The only thing you need to worry about is having a good time.” Then she kissed him.

Her mouth was soft, and when he slipped the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips, a soft sigh whispered against his mouth.

“If you liked that, you’re in for one hell of a night,” Maxwell whispered.