Simply The Best

by Denyse M. Bridger

"Iraq? I don't know,” he shrugged. “How long have you been awake?"

  "Not long,” she murmured and smiled as she shifted her position to a seat across his hips. His sharp intake of breath chased the playful grin from her face and she leaned over to snap on the bedside lamp. Concern flooded her features and she skimmed his body with fingers that barely touched him.

  "My God! Max...” His torso was a dramatic array of vivid bruises, in colors that ranged from purple-black to shades of blue and angry red.

  "I told you it looks worse than it is,” he said instantly.

  When tears of empathetic pain slid from her eyes, Max eased her down to meet his kiss, determined to forget the beating he'd taken the previous day—determined not to have her relive it while he watched her fear resurface. She tried to move off him and he held her where she was, his hands smoothing familiar curves with sensual purpose.

  "Max..."

  He ignored her attempted protest, rolled over and quickly had her pinned beneath him.

  "Max, we don't have to do this."

  He laughed. “Yeah, honey, we do, because the only thing that's gonna make me forget how much I hurt is having my dick buried in your lovely pussy.” He grinned in the subdued light of the room. “Plus, if I remember correctly, you promised me you were going to suck my cock before we were interrupted in the bar."

  "So, what do you want me to do right now?” His tongue was tracing circles around one of her nipples, and he was doing wonderful things to her pussy with his fingers.

  "Tell me you want me."

  "I want you, Max."

  "How much?"

  At least two of his fingers were sliding in and out of her in a slow, steady rhythm, and his thumb was working her clit in the same sensuous strokes, pushing her into a writhing frenzy. When her hips rose and she moaned in agonized pleasure, Max ignored the pangs of objection his body made and slid into her willing heat.

  * * * *

  "Max is a lucky man,” Marg laughed. She'd spent the day with Kaylee in an effort to gauge how well she was coping as a favor to Max that was no favor at all—she'd grown to really admire and like his beautiful lover.

  "I didn't want to love him, Marg,” she said, suddenly serious again. “I don't think either of us wanted to get this involved, it just happened. Max is used to his freedom. I don't want to take that from him."

  Marg's expression was teasing.

  "After everything that's happened, I don't think freedom's an issue anymore."

  "I said I didn't want to take his freedom from him,” Kaylee repeated softly. “That's the logical part of my brain speaking. Reality is another story entirely. It makes me crazy every time I see some woman coming on to him. Jealousy isn't something I do well."

  Marg nodded. She'd seen their arguments on more than one occasion; the ones incited by their shared jealousy. They fought with the same passion they loved with, and it was painful to see the vehemence they could attack each other with when roused.

  "Max doesn't do that one well, either,” she remarked wryly.

  Kaylee reached across the table and touched Marg's hand, curling her fingers around her friend's.

  "I'm trying to accept Max's work as part of who and what he was, Marg,” she said quietly. “I knew it was the only choice I had. He trusted me enough to reveal that side of himself, and I have to at least try to understand it if I want to be part of his life. If he changes that, he won't be Max Richmonte. That's the only answer I have, really."

  "It's not really that simple, Kaylee,” Marg chided. “Max is lucky. Trusting you wasn't a mistake. He owes you his life."

  "He doesn't owe me anything, Marg."

  Marg hesitated for several seconds, then she looked Kaylee straight in the eye. “How are you dealing with what happened? I've been meaning to talk to you about it, but something's always messed up our plans to get together."

  Kaylee shuddered, her memory vividly replaying the death of the Libyan soldier she'd shot. For the first few weeks, she'd wondered if the image would ever leave her.

  "It's starting to fade, just a little. I know there was no choice. If I hadn't done it, Max would be dead."

  "Logic doesn't always chase away the nightmares,” Marg stated solemnly.

  "No, it doesn't,” Kaylee agreed quietly. “But when I'm lying next to Max, watching him sleep, I know I did what I had to do. That's the best I can ask for. The rest will have to take care of itself."

  Before Marg could comment further, the owner of the bar emerged from his office and headed for their table.

  "Well, my two favorite ladies,” he grinned. “Can I buy you girls a drink?"

  "Not me,” Marg smiled. “I've got shopping to do, or my cat's going to leave home permanently.” She stood up, grabbed her coat, and bent to hug Kaylee. She tossed Max another smile, then left.

  "Did I interrupt something?"

  Kaylee shook her head, thoughtful for a moment; then she straightened in her chair and grinned up at him.

  "What?” Max's tone was laced with suspicion.

  "You look worried,” Kaylee teased.

  "I am,” he admitted. “What's on your mind?"

  "You."

  He laughed. “What about me?"

  "I'm envisioning you naked on that sofa in your office,” she taunted, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue; the sensuous gesture unconscious as the image took shape in her mind. “With me sitting between your legs, and your beautiful dick halfway down my throat."

  Max smiled, sat down across from her and leaned closer, elbows on the table.

  "You've got my full attention,” he assured her, voice pitched low and seductive.

  "I was hoping for something more ... tangible than that,” she returned, husky voice breathy with erotic insinuation. She stood, walked the couple of steps that put her in front of him, then slipped her arms around his neck. Max spread his legs and pulled her closer, feeling the shiver that rippled the length of her body when they made contact. The kiss was evocative and exploring, arousing a fire that always smoldered close to the surface between them.

  "Why don't we go into my office?” he suggested minutes later, his hands smoothing the curve of her back, then coming to rest tantalizingly close to her breasts. “That way I can get you naked, too, and while you're sucking my dick I can see how far inside you I can get my tongue."

  Kaylee was suddenly unaware of anyone else, her world consisted of Max's intense dark eyes, and the heat of his touch. She kissed his temples, his forehead, then caught his mouth with hers again. Max drew back from the caress, took her by the hand and pretended he didn't notice the amused stares that followed them as he headed for the privacy of his office.

  They were hardly over the threshold when Max slammed the door shut and pinned her against it with his body. Kaylee's gaze locked with his and he smiled, deliberately slowing the sudden frenzy that had seized them. She relaxed subtly and drew his mouth down to hers, the kiss provocative, arousing, and willfully controlled.

  * * * *

  "Where's Max?"

  Janelle popped up from behind the bar, startled by the curt demand.

  "His office,” she said when Tommy's fingers drummed impatiently on the gleaming surface of the counter. When he would have headed in that direction, Janelle grabbed his wrist, then withdrew the light hold the instant he spun back to look at her.

  "He's not alone,” she offered with a small smile. “Kaylee and Marg were having drinks. When Marg left, she went into the office with Max."

  Tommy's expression was expectant.

  "I don't think you should disturb them,” she said weakly.

  "Why?” He knew he was asking the obvious, but he needed to speak with Max. “How long have they been in there?"

  "Not long enough,” Janelle replied with a tilt to her head.

  "I'll have a beer,” Tommy decided, glancing at his watch.

  * * * *

  "Kaylee?” Max whispered her name, indulgence and contentment texturing the softly murmured
word. She breathed a low sigh and snuggled closer to him on the couch, oblivious to the fact that they had barely enough room to lie together. As it was, she was more on top of him than next to him.

  Max settled a little more comfortably and smiled to himself. A quick glance at his watch told him she only had a short time before she had to be back at her office for a special meeting. He rubbed his eyes, then let his forearm shade the already muted light in the room.

  * * * *

  "Uh, oh."

  Tommy turned to see what had caused the sudden stillness in Max's pretty bartender. Carter Baldwin had come into the Silver Dollar and was striding toward Max's office. There was no way to intercept him.

  "Max, we have a...” Baldwin stopped mid-sentence.

  Max's glare would have sent most men running; in this case it simply slowed the intruder to an uncharacteristic silence. He was still pinned effectively beneath Kaylee's supple body, and she was just rousing back to full consciousness. Neither of them was wearing a thing, and her lazy smile vanished instantly when she spotted Baldwin. Max slid a little, shielding her as much as he could manage from the awkwardness of their position.

  "Remind me to lock the door next time,” Max mumbled. “Would you mind giving me a few minutes?” He directed the irritated query at Baldwin, who spread his hands in a gesture of surrender and left the office.

  Ten minutes later, Max was in the bar. He went around the counter, grabbed a beer, then indicated the corner table to Baldwin. Tommy nodded from the end of the bar, but didn't join them.

  "Max..."

  Richmonte looked closely at him, then laughed a little.

  "I don't believe this,” he said quietly, “you're actually embarrassed."

  "I didn't expect Kaylee to be here,” Baldwin admitted with a smile. Before Max could answer, she came out of the office and joined them.

  "Carter,” she couldn't control the slight rush of color that stained her cheeks when she looked at him. “Call me, Max,” she murmured when she leaned over to kiss him lightly.

  Max nodded, watched her leave the bar, then met Baldwin's gaze squarely.

  "What are you doing here?” Max asked, cutting straight to business.

  Baldwin smiled. “I have a situation brewing, one that may require your services."

  Max grinned.

  "Where?"

  "Iraq,” Carter replied after Janelle had put a glass on the table in front of him and left. “Is it safe to drink this?” he enquired with a wry smile.

  * * * *

  "What did you want to talk to me about, Max?” Kaylee asked the question with a dreamy vagueness that belied her wanting an answer.

  "It can wait,” he answered with a grin.

  They were sitting in the sand, side by side, staring out at the restless ocean. Kaylee's head was on his shoulder and her hands held one of his. She was more content than he'd ever known her to be, he could sense it in every look and each breath she drew.

  "Good,” she murmured, then slid away enough to face him. Her gaze swept over him, eyes memorizing his face in near visible concentration. He took her breath away more now than he had the night she'd met him.

  "You're so beautiful, Max,” she whispered, before the words could be stopped.

  His eyebrow rose and he smiled, mildly embarrassed by the earnestness in her eyes and voice. From any other woman, he would have laughed; from Kaylee, it was the compliment she meant it to be, the voice of her love for him.

  Max reached for her, sat her astride his hips as he leaned back in the soft, warm sand. He pulled her down over him and into a kiss that left them shaking against each other. Kaylee smiled, kissed him lightly, then eased back to sit gazing down at him. She tilted her head to one side, then slid the thin straps of her filmy dress off her shoulders. A tug had the ivory material pooling at her waist and Max's hands quickly covered her bared breasts, strong fingers caressing firm flesh before his thumbs began brushing tantalizing circles around her nipples, making the already hard tips rigid with excitement.

  Kaylee pressed herself tighter to him, her hips moving in seductive, rhythmic insistence while she leaned down and offered her breasts to his mouth. When his teeth closed over one aching nipple she moaned quietly, lost in the well-known madness of Max's touch. The world spun wildly as Max's arms encircled her waist and he changed their positions. Her legs parted to accommodate his weight and he thrust into her, the thin material of his pants straining against his erection. She arched in pleasure, her spine curling as he repeatedly teased first one nipple then the other.

  She raised her hips, pleading wordlessly as her hands ran over the broad expanse of his back, smoothing tense muscles. She reached between them, her fingers tracing the ridge of his arousal, then moving lower, pressing urgently, inciting soft groans from him. She yanked at the snap on his pants and he rolled away with a gasp.

  Kaylee rose to her knees and shed her dress, laughing when his eyebrow rose in faint surprise to see there was nothing beneath the thin garment. He'd left his t-shirt and shoes on the deck. All that remained were the white pants and briefs, and she took them down the long length of his legs when he lifted his hips to give her the freedom to finish undressing him.

  Kaylee's gaze stroked every inch of him as she stared, and Max's blazing eyes held hers for indeterminate moments when she finally met his look directly. She moved again, and Max's breath left him in a hiss of startled pleasure when her mouth closed over him with sudden, fierce pressure. The play of her tongue over him was blissful, and her hands were anything but idle. His fingers twisted in the soft waves of her hair and he held her gently, slowing her sucking rhythm as he watched her head rise and lower over him. He finally eased her away completely and pulled her down to meet his kiss.

  When she drew back with a gasp, Kaylee smiled at him then sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she guided him into her eager body. She bit her bottom lip and her back arched as sensation exploded throughout her. Max's hands at her waist held her as he pushed deeper into her and his name was a moan of elated pleasure that spilled from her lips without conscious awareness. For several moments she was motionless, enjoying the spasms of bliss that rushed through her veins.

  When she finally began the slow, rocking rhythm that would sate their lust, Max held her firmly in place, hips rising to meet her with each thrust. Long minutes later, Kaylee cried out, shaking violently against him, her breathing strained and shallow; and the convulsing muscles of her body pushed him over the edge and into his own shuddering climax.

  When her breath returned, Kaylee leaned down to kiss him, tossing her hair back over her shoulders again.

  "What are the neighbors going to think?” Max grinned.

  Kaylee was thoughtful for a few moments, then she shivered and stretched, satisfied and subtly sensuous.

  "Mrs. Fulton is probably green with envy if she's watching,” she informed him with a smile. “I've been told that if she was even twenty years younger, I'd have serious competition for your attention."

  He laughed quietly.

  "She's older than my mother."

  "Mmmm...” Kaylee kissed his chest then rose to her feet, still laughing softly. “But she's not dead. She thinks you're incredibly sexy, Max."

  "And what do you think?” he taunted.

  "I think I'm glad she's older than your mother!” Kaylee quipped. “Now why don't we go in and shower away some of this sand?"

  "Then we're gonna have to talk, baby."

  Some of the light left her spirit and she nodded, suddenly afraid to the core of her being. She knew already. Max was going back to work for Carter Baldwin.

  Chapter 12

  Kaylee smiled at the pretty blonde behind the bar as she came into the Silver Star Bar and headed toward Max's office. Janelle waved and shook her head, shrugging. If the bartender didn't know where her boss was, Kaylee did. She nodded her understanding, then continued down the corridor, went into Max's office, and headed for the secured entrance to the basement
command center. She opened the lighting panel, activated the security clearance system, placed her thumb on the scanner, punched in her access code, and waited. The door slid open soundlessly and she entered the center via a short flight of stairs.

  She stood at the foot of the stairs for a few seconds, watching the mercenary team assembling their weapons for another mission. Max emerged from the storage room and her heart leaped into her throat as her gaze swept over him. He was dressed completely in black; tightly laced boots; inky-dark pants; a sleeveless t-shirt that was lost beneath a Kevlar vest; and an array of weapons that made her knees weak with fear. There was a knife sheathed at his left shoulder and an automatic rifle in one gloved hand; the other was adjusting something at his thigh that she couldn't identify.

  Tommy spotted her first and he stopped in his tracks; Marg followed his look and she, too, halted her activity.

  "Max."

  Richmonte caught Marg's tone, looked at her, then glanced toward the stairs. Startled, Max's eyes did a quick sweep of her, the reaction to her unexpected presence automatic now. She was wearing beige silk and velvet, creating the image of earthy sensuality that had drawn him from the moment he'd first seen her. Her skirt was almost floor length, but the slit that ran up the right side stopped just short of her groin; her silk top was low-cut, and he didn't have to touch her to know she wore nothing beneath the shimmering material. It took a moment to force his body's surge of lust into submission, especially when he read a reflection of his own reawakened desire in her dark eyes.

  "What are you doing here, Kaylee?"

  She stepped closer, her gaze still drifting over him, shocking her with the thrill of seeing him this way for the first time. The man himself was a weapon, exceedingly lethal, and dangerous beyond her understanding. “Max is a highly trained killer, Kaylee ... He's the best at what he does ... “ She should have been turned off, not attracted even more to him.

  "I haven't got time right now, honey,” Max said, strong voice tinged with curiosity, and faint impatience.

  The tone shifted her focus radically, and she saw the twitch of disappointment he didn't entirely conceal.