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chest and he fisted his cock. “Ride me, angel. Take me inside you.”

She lifted her hips and sank down onto his cock, working herself down inch by inch, taking him deeper and deeper with each up and down movement.

“Jesus,” he moaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m not going to survive this. You feel so fucking good.” He pushed his hips up, spearing the rest of the way inside and she cried out, the knowledge that he was inside her with nothing between them intensifying the pleasure throbbing through her. Once he was buried deep inside her, his hands landed on her hips, holding her still.

“Angel,” he whispered, crushing his mouth to hers. “Thank you.”

“For?” She moved her hips back and forth in a subtle movement and his eyes fluttered closed.

“This. For trusting me.”

She moved her hips again. “Of course I trust you, Max. I love you.”

He moaned and with a firm grip on her hips, urged her up and down his cock. “Shit, I don’t think I can last much longer. Being bare inside you is fucking incredible, Willa. I love you. I love you so much.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she started to ride him in earnest, taking him deep, her hips moving. The knowledge that he was going to come inside her ratcheted her own arousal right back up to a ten and she ground down on him, working her clit against him. Soon enough another orgasm, an echo of the earlier one, flared to life inside her and she clamped down on him, his name falling from her lips again and again.

“I love you, Max,” she said, her voice shaking as she rode out the last pulses of her orgasm.

“Gonna come,” he ground out, his grip almost bruising on her hips. “Gonna come inside you, angel.” With a final thrust, he let go, a harsh, masculine groan escaping from his mouth as he pulsed inside her, his cock jerking.

For a few moments, they stayed like that, his body inside hers as the lights of the city moved around them. She leaned forward and laid her head on his shoulder, his hands stroking up and down her back. Not wanting the evening—that had started off so badly—to end.

19

Max whistled as he sat down behind his desk on Monday morning, his mood matching the bright sunshine streaming in through the windows behind him. As he booted up his computer and unpacked his things, he felt as though his entire body were vibrating with happiness, and it was all because of Willa. They’d spent an incredible weekend together—a large portion of it in bed—walking through Central Park, spending Saturday night at an outdoor jazz concert, Sunday at the Bronx Zoo. The more time he spent with her, the deeper he fell, and he just wanted to keep falling and falling.

And even though he kept thinking about the ring he’d bought, he knew it was too soon. But he did keep toying with the idea of asking her to move in with him before the end of the summer. He knew that her sublet on Theo’s old place was up in August, so the timing couldn’t be better. In the past, he’d never, ever wanted to share his space with someone he was dating, but with Willa…his place just felt cold and empty when she wasn’t there. Sometimes, he’d walk around and find the little things she’d left behind—her toothbrush, the rosemary-scented shampoo she liked, her pink hoodie with a picture of Legolas and the words “too many arrows, not enough orcs” on it, and he knew that he didn’t just want parts of her in his space, in his life. He wanted all of her. He knew, without a doubt, that he’d found his person, and he suddenly understood why Theo and Sebastian had gone to the lengths they had for Lauren and Kayla.

There was a sharp rap at his door and he glanced up, his eyes landing on Ravi, the company’s head of PR. He took one look at Max and his eyes went wide.

“Oh God, you haven’t seen it, have you?”

Max frowned, his stomach hardening at the expression on Ravi’s face. “Seen what?”

Ravi stepped into Max’s office and shut the door behind him. “The Times article. It came out this morning, online and in print.”

Max arched an eyebrow at him. “Why? Is it bad?”

Ravi’s expression was flat. “Yeah. It’s bad.”

With a sigh, Max opened up his web browser and quickly navigated to the NYT website, easily finding the article because it wasn’t buried in the tech section. For some reason, it had landed on the front page. With Ravi hovering, he started reading.

By the time he was finished, he felt like he was going to throw up. The journalist, Kelly Palmer, hadn’t just reported on the development of the Blind Date app. She’d turned her article into an exposé of sorts. She hinted that Willa had manipulated the algorithm in order to get matched with Max, who, last year, had been named one of New York’s most eligible bachelors..

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that she’d dug into Max’s past. The reporter questioned if Willa knew what she was getting into by getting involved with Max because of his shady past.

And then she’d outlined everything. His relationship with Sophia and that she’d drowned while on vacation with him and friends. That there’d been an investigation and he’d been cleared of any wrongdoing. The article, of course, cast doubt on Max’s innocence, implying that he’d had something to do with Sophia’s death, questioning if her drowning had truly been an accident. It then went on to speculate as to why he’d been single all those years in the aftermath of Sophia’s death—was it guilt? Fear he’d do it again?

Whoever this Kelly Palmer was, she’d taken what was supposed to be an article on a new kind of dating app and twisted into a tawdry true crime story. She’d humiliated

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