The Gamble

by Kristen Ashley

  Unfortunately it was highly unlikely I’d find out what Mindy’s future held, since it was highly unlikely she’d keep in touch after I left Max and Gnaw Bone behind.

  I tried not to think of how overwhelmingly upsetting this was, instead, I told myself I barely knew her. I didn’t believe myself, not even in the slightest, but that didn’t stop me from repeating it in my head with hopes it’d sink in.

  “That’ll be fine,” I said into the phone as Max came to a stop, standing in front of me. “Great, see you then. Bye.”

  It wasn’t great, I thought as I touched the button on the screen to end the call. Seeing as it was late Saturday, they weren’t sending anyone up until Monday. Which meant I’d have to come up the mountain to meet them there, unless Max would let them get to the car without me, seeing as I would, if it all worked out, be staying at the hotel probably holed up in my room in an effort to avoid my father and, undoubtedly, curled into a ball with seven boxes of Kleenex lamenting my hideous luck that Max could never be mine.

  How, a week ago, I had a boring, predictable life where nothing happened and now everything was a complete and utter mess, I had no idea. I wasn’t rethinking my decision about Niles but I was rethinking my Colorado adventure and any future adventures I might be stupid, insane and irrational enough to consider taking.

  Therefore on Monday afternoon, after the rental car person left, somehow, some way, I was heading to Denver and then I was changing my ticket and going straight home.

  I could take no more of this.

  I put the phone on the nightstand and looked up at Max. “They’re sending someone Monday.”

  “Right,” he replied, standing weirdly close to me so I had to tip my head back really far to look at him then he asked, “How long’s it take you to get ready for somethin’ like The Rooster?”

  It was a weird question to which I didn’t have enough information to provide a response. Furthermore, we had other things to talk about.

  Still, for some reason instead of bringing up the other things we needed to talk about, I twisted on the bed, looked at Max’s bedside clock, seeing it was a four thirty. Then I looked back to him.

  “When do we have to leave?”

  “From here, in an hour.”

  “It takes an hour to get there?”

  “Yeah, how long’s it take you to get ready?”

  “I don’t know. How fancy is this place?”

  “For Colorado, fancy.”

  Hmm.

  “Guesstimate?” I told him. “Half an hour, forty-five minutes.”

  His eyes went over my head to the clock then he muttered, “Not long, but it’s somethin’.”

  Then he leaned down, put his hands under my armpits and suddenly I was lifted, Max’s knee was in the bed, I was hauled further onto it and then I was on my back, Max on me.

  Drat. Just where I didn’t want to be.

  Though with his heavy weight pressing me into the bed, I couldn’t help but think it felt like exactly where I wanted to be.

  “Max –”

  “Quiet, Duchess, we don’t got time to talk.”

  “Max –” I said again as his lips hit mine.

  “Quiet,” he repeated and then he kissed me.

  I pressed against his shoulders and bucked my hips, both hopefully since he was big, heavy and, apparently, determined. My hopes were dashed, he stayed put and his tongue touched my lips. As much as I liked the feel, which was a lot, I twisted my head to the side. Undeterred, his tongue touched my neck.

  That felt nice.

  “Max.”

  “What?”

  “There’s something I need to say.”

  “Yeah?”

  I opened my mouth to say it but his tongue slid up my neck then traced the outside of my ear as his hand slid down my side then ducked under my sweater.

  “Max,” I breathed since his tongue at my ear felt nicer than touching my neck, but I breathed it somewhat loudly.

  “What, baby?” he murmured in my ear in his gravelly voice, my body shivered against my will, his hand slid up my belly then curled, warm and strong, around my breast.

  Oh my God.

  That felt beyond nice.

  “Max –” I breathed again, a lot quieter this time, I was losing concentration since most of it was focusing on his hand and tongue.

  “You keep sayin’ my name, Duchess, I’m right here.” Max was still talking in my ear but then his teeth nipped my earlobe as his thumb slid over my nipple.

  Oh… my… God.

  Of their own accord, my hands moved. One glided down his back, one went into his hair.

  “Nina?” he called as his thumb slid back.

  “Mm?” was all I could say as I felt my nipple go tight and I felt it in two very good places.

  His head came up, his thumb did another swipe and my hips bucked involuntarily under him, this time not to push him off.

  “You gonna let me kiss you now?” he asked, sounding amused.

  “Unh-hunh,” I answered, unable to form words because his thumb was now rolling circles around my nipple and that was indescribably nice.

  “Good,” he muttered and kissed me.

  And he kissed me for a long time. While he did it his fingers yanked down my bra and his thumb went back to my nipple, joined by a finger, the rolling sharper, sweeter, infinitely so. It felt more than nice, it was bloody brilliant.

  My fingers were in his hair, keeping his mouth to mine. I was kissing him back as my hand pulled his t-shirt from his jeans and explored, taking its time, memorizing with my fingertips the feel of him, silky but solid, just like Max, sweet and strong.

  I got lost in his fantastic kiss, in the feel of his skin, his muscle, in the throb between my legs, I didn’t notice his hand leave my breast until his hips shifted to my side and his fingers ran over the zip of my jeans.

  “Max?” I whispered against his lips as his hand cupped me between my legs, his fingers pressing in and my hips lifted into his hand as I breathed, “God.”

  “I wanna touch you, honey,” Max said against my neck, his deep voice gruff.

  “Okay,” I said back instantly, unsure what he meant seeing as he was pretty much touching me all over already but I was happy for him to do more of it however that came about.

  Max didn’t explain and he also didn’t delay.

  He unbuttoned the button on my jeans and slid down my zip then his hand slipped inside. He not only didn’t delay, he didn’t mess with my panties. He went right in, fingers against wet, sensitive flesh and the minute he touched me every nerve in my body zapped to life.

  “Christ, I like that,” Max’s voice grated against my skin as his fingers explored.

  I couldn’t be certain at that moment, since I wasn’t thinking all that clearly, but I suspected I liked it a whole lot more.

  His mouth came back to mine as his fingers stopped exploring and found the prize. The instant he put on pressure, I moaned into his mouth and my hips bucked against his hand, telling him he’d honed in perfectly and hit the target with delightful precision.

  “You like that?” he asked against my mouth.

  “Yes,” I breathed against his as his finger put on more pressure and started circling then I breathed again, “Yes.”

  It was building fast. He was good, his finger strong, firm, working miracles and it had been a long time, too long, ages.

  My hand left his back and slid around his hip to his front, glancing over his crotch, finding him hard and liking that so much I felt a rush of wetness between my legs in response.

  He pulled his hips away with a jerk and his hand slid out of my jeans.

  “No,” I whispered, my eyes flying open when I lost the beauty of his touch.

  His fingers circled my wrist and pulled it over my head where his other hand captured it. Then he held it there as his body settled back into me, imprisoning my other arm as it was around his back, my elbow cocked, my hand still in his hair.

  “What –?” I s
tarted.

  His hand slipped back inside my jeans and he muttered, “Not me, baby, you.”

  “But –” I began again and stopped when he resumed his play between my legs and I couldn’t talk anymore, I could just feel.

  “Feels so fuckin’ sweet, Duchess,” he muttered, his head up, his eyes, always beautiful, were more so now as desire was darkening them.

  “Max –” I panted, my hips jerking under his hand, my wrist pulling against his hold, my fingers fisting in his hair. It was building again, fast, too fast and it felt good, too good, sensational.

  “When I fuck you, wanna take my time,” he told me, his voice hoarse his gaze never shifting from my face.

  I closed my eyes and arched my neck as the glorious pressure intensified.

  His finger stopped but then it slid inside.

  “Yes,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.

  “Christ, honey,” Max growled.

  “More,” I begged and he gave it to me, sliding his finger in and out in the space allowed but it felt good, tight, close, intimate, his thumb hitting me at my sweet spot again, circling as he finger fucked me.

  His mouth came to mine as I got close.

  “I can’t wait to get in there,” he muttered and my mouth opened under his, the moan gliding out as his tongue glided in and I came, hard, harder than ever before, and longer, so much longer, it felt, for tense, wondrous moments, like it would never end and I didn’t want it to.

  And it was far more beautiful than anything I’d ever had.

  Glorious.

  Earth-shattering.

  I came down slowly, my body feeling like golden, warm liquid. Sublime. Max kept his hand between my legs, his fingers slipping through my wetness, exploring, gentle, becoming intimately familiar in a way I liked. Tender, sweet, just like Max. His tongue was tracing my lower lip and his hand still held mine by the wrist over my head.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw his were open too and he was watching me.

  “How you feelin’?” he murmured against my mouth.

  I felt great. And I felt scared out of my mind. And, for some reason, I blurted the latter.

  “Scared.”

  His fingers stopped moving and his hand cupped me as his brows drew together, his head went away an inch and his face filled with puzzled humor.

  “What?”

  Now what had I done?

  “Max,” I whispered, “I –”

  “Yeah,” he interrupted as understanding came to him, it wasn’t the correct understanding, not completely, but it was part of it. “You come harder than that when I fuck you, honey, you’ll split straight out of your skin.”

  “Max –”

  He kissed me softly and said, “Christ, Duchess, that was fuckin’ beautiful.”

  “Max –”

  “I nearly came just watchin’ you.”

  My stomach dipped pleasantly.

  “Max,” I breathed but he released my hand, pulled his other out of my jeans carefully, tugged me to my side and into his arms and his face went into my neck.

  “Drenched by the time I touched you, soaked right before you came. Gonna love eatin’ you,” he said against my neck and my stomach dipped again, in a plummet this time.

  “Max –”

  His head came up and he grinned at me, so big he looked like he was about to laugh, as his arms got even tighter. “Baby, you keep callin’ me and I’m right fuckin’ here.”

  He looked at me, waiting for me to speak and I found I didn’t know what to say.

  Then I found myself saying, “I’m sorry.”

  His head jerked and his fight with his amusement became far more visible.

  Even his voice vibrated with it when he asked, “What?”

  “I… um, you didn’t… I didn’t…” I closed my eyes tight then opened them and said, “that went really fast.”

  “Good thing, considerin’ we don’t have much time.”

  “But –” I started, he kissed me and I stopped.

  “Like that you respond to me that way, Duchess.”

  “It’s that, well, I respond to you –”

  He smiled against my mouth, I felt it and I watched his eyes doing it and both were so marvelous, I stopped speaking.

  “Oh yeah, you respond to me.”

  I decided maybe I should stop talking altogether. I didn’t have my head or my body under my control and I didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence anyway.

  So I dipped my chin, tucked my face into his throat and slid my arms around his waist.

  “How fast can you eat steak?” he asked the top of my head.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked his throat.

  “You need to make it record time, darlin’. I wanna get home in time to have my turn and I’ve noticed when you get tired you pretty much slip into a coma.”

  My head tilted back and I felt my brows come together as I protested, “I don’t slip into a coma.”

  He didn’t answer, he just raised his brows in return.

  “Last night I drank nearly a bottle of wine by myself,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, and the night before?”

  “You were with Mindy.”

  “I walked up here to get Mins a t-shirt about five minutes after you came up and you were dead to the world.”

  “I was not.”

  “Babe, you were. I took the ice out of your hand and you didn’t even flinch.”

  I’d wondered where that ice had gone.

  I decided my best course of action was to stop talking about this as it appeared my arguments weren’t holding much weight.

  I pulled my arms from his waist, put my hands on his chest and gave a shove, saying, “I need to go get ready.”

  His head tilted back to look at the clock then his arms got tighter, locking mine between our bodies, rendering them useless.

  “We got another twenty minutes,” he muttered then he lifted his head and his face disappeared in my neck again as his hand slid over my behind and pulled my hips into his.

  My fingers curled into his shirt as I steeled myself against a reaction and I tipped my head back and looked at the clock.

  Then my hands flattened on his chest and I cried, “We don’t have twenty minutes! I need to start getting ready now.”

  His tongue slid up my neck to my jaw and then along it before he responded, “You can hurry.”

  “Max! ‘Makeup’ and ‘hurry’ are two concepts that do not mix well together.”

  His head came up and he looked at me. “Then wash it all off. You look just as pretty in the morning as you do right now.”

  I felt my eyes grow wide in horror at the very thought and declared, “I am nowhere near ready to go Colorado mountain fresh makeup free like all the natural beauties that seem to populate Gnaw Bone.”

  He grinned and repeated on a tease, “Colorado mountain fresh makeup free?”

  I decided not to rise to the bait and snapped, “Max, let me go.”

  I was pretty certain he was still teasing when he asked, “You sure you don’t want to hang out in bed for awhile and feel each other up?” However, even so, I paused to consider this idea as it seemed interesting and more than a little appealing.

  This was a mistake and I knew it when Max burst out laughing and kissed me quickly before knifing out of bed, taking me with him when he did.

  He set me on my feet and I concentrated on mentally solidifying my jellied legs as Max did up my jeans with swift, practiced hands then curled his fingers around the back of my head, pulling me to him and he kissed my forehead.

  Then he turned and walked to the stairs, calling, “Want me to bring you a glass of wine?”

  It was so very annoying when he was thoughtful.

  “Yes,” I called back.

  “Duchess,” he called again when I eventually turned to the bathroom. I stopped and looked to the stairs to see only his torso and head through the railings. “It might be fancy for Colorado but still, wear jeans.”

 
Then he kept winding down the stairs and I was thankful that he told me. I’d hate to be too dressed up, that would be awful.

  Still, it was also thoughtful, which again was annoying.

  * * * * *

  I looked at myself in Max’s bathroom mirror, took in all that was me and whispered, “What on earth are you doing, Nina Sheridan?”

  My reflection did not reply which was a bit frustrating since Charlie had also disappeared and I needed guidance.

  I grabbed my empty wineglass from the tiled counter and walked into the bedroom. My eyes went to the clock and saw we were closing in on launch time so I hurried to my luggage, set the glass on the nightstand and dug through it to find my going out clutch.

  I’d functioned on autopilot getting ready mainly because if I allowed my mind to wander to what happened on the bed, I didn’t know what I’d do. My options were to beg Max to call Brody and Mindy and tell them we’d go to The Rooster another night; find Max and tell him he was good with his hands, his mouth and other things as well and I was never leaving his house until the day I died; or put my arms around him and my lips to his ear and admit I was falling in love with him.

  As none of those were healthy ways forward, autopilot it was.

  However autopilot took me straight into a new debacle. For I’d washed my face and then applied Nina Going Out makeup which was heavier, smoky and likely seriously overdone for the Colorado Mountains. I’d also curled my hair, not in curls, but to give it more waves and body. Then I’d slid in a headband made of three, thin gold leather braids that I’d used to pull back my hair softly from my face and I’d separated the braids along my crown to affect a kind of Grecian Goddess look. I’d slipped on my white mesh camisole which was long, hugged my jeans at the hips (in fact, it hugged me everywhere) and had a low dip in the back. Under, it had a thin, stretchy, white camisole stitched in and on the outside it was covered entirely by little, gold sequins. Again likely overkill for the Colorado Mountains but I didn’t have anything that was fancy but not that fancy. Since I’d brought my strappy, stiletto-heeled, gold sandals to go with the top on the off chance I needed something dressy, the only thing I could do to tone down this ensemble was buck the gold in my hair, on my body and on my feet and I accessorized with nothing but my new silver earrings and Max’s ring.