His hips pressed firmly against her, grinding with slow, coaxing friction that sent waves of heat through her, urging her to surrender to the desire clawing at them both.
"Ma-Maxwell, I… I'm covered in sweat. I need to take a shower first," Addison moaned, her palms pressing weakly against his chest in an attempt to push him away. Deep down, she was mortified; after all, she was still a woman, and no matter what, she wanted to present herself properly, especially in front of her mate.
The thought of Maxwell catching her like this, sweaty and disheveled, made her cheeks burn crimson. What if he actually sniffed her? She couldn't bear the embarrassment; her little heart felt like it might burst from the thought alone.
But Maxwell was relentless. His coaxing touches and low murmurs melted every excuse she clung to. Even she could tell her resistance was half-hearted; her words said no, but her body betrayed her, leaning into his heat as if begging for more.
