Page 73 of Maxwell

“I should go,” Jasmine said.

“Why?”

Because I can’t think when I’m with you, she thought. Instead, she gave the first excuse that entered her head. “I didn’t plan on staying out all night, and I don’t have any clothes here.”

He arched a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze steady. “Wear my clothes.”

Jasmine laughed. “Really, I should go,” she insisted.

He didn’t laugh. “I want you to stay.” Taking her wrist, he pulled her onto his lap.

“I need to go,” Jasmine moaned, though she made no move to pull away, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

“Whatever you need, we can buy. Why do you keep trying to leave me? Stay the rest of the weekend.”

She lifted her head. “The whole weekend?”

“Did you have other plans or something else to do?”

“No,” she replied in a small voice.

“What’s the problem then?”

She bit the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you to stay if I didn’t mean it, Jasmine. Stay until tomorrow. I want to wake up next to you again on Sunday.”

She cupped his bearded jaw, letting the soft bristles tickle her palm the way they had tickled the inside of her thighs the night before. “Are you real?”

“Very,” he said in an oddly solemn tone. “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s something I’ve been thinking about since last night. I think I’m in love with you, Jasmine. I know it seems sudden, and you probably think it’s too soon, but⁠—”

“I think I love you too,” she blurted.

Emotion flashed in his eyes. They held surprise but also expressed what could only be described as joy.

Their mouths crashed together, lips sealed in a passionate kiss. Jasmine repositioned on his lap so she could straddle him and dive deeper into the kiss.

When she finally lifted her head to catch her breath, she cupped his face and looked deeply into his eyes. “Please don’t hurt me. If you ever want to move on or get tired, let me know, and I’ll walk away.”

Maxwell appeared genuinely confused by her words, as if she were speaking another language. He smoothed his hand over her hair.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. I’d rather cut off my arm than hurt you.” He spoke in a grave voice devoid of playful charm. He was simply a man giving an honest, heartfelt answer. “And how could I get tired of you? That will never happen. I could never get tired of these lips.”

He kissed her gently.

“This nose.”

He kissed her nose, and she giggled.

“This forehead.” He pushed her hair out of the way and kissed her forehead.

She sighed happily.

“This chin. This body.” He traced the curve of her torso. “Your personality. Your character. Your independence. Your kindness. Everything that makes you who you are. I’ll never get tired.”

Jasmine rested her forehead against his.

She was experiencing the kind of connection she’d always yearned for when she dated other men. She had found it with Maxwell, who on the surface had seemed like the wrong man. She had initially seen him as a rogue and player, the opposite of what she had wanted or needed in her life.