KNOTTED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Three

by Juliet Braddock

“First time?” an elderly gentleman visiting with his wife asked, his strong English accent echoing against Maxine’s ears.

  “My first,” Maxine said. “He’s been here a few times.”

  “Honeymoon?” the wife inquired.

  “I guess it shows,” Drew smiled.

  “It’s our fortieth anniversary tomorrow,” the man said. “May you two have just as many and more…”

  “Thank you,” Maxine said with all sincerity. “And many more to you, too…”

  A private tour guide met them at the top, arranged in advance by the concierge at the Ritz. Before Drew uncovered Maxine’s curious eyes, he whispered to their host, “See that couple over there—make sure they have a bottle of champagne.”

  Shuffling over toward the railing, Drew continued to lead Maxine, taking small steps until he had her in the perfect spot. “Okay, little one…open those emerald eyes…”

  He could only hear the very short huffs of her breath as she looked forward…then left…then right.

  Eyes filled with the wonderment of the city below, she followed the lush Champ de Mars back to the military academy which stood so stoically in the backdrop. Her eyes then glossed over the dome of Napoleon’s tomb, before darting down the Seine with the Louvre perched on the banks like a fat, sleeping cat. She took in the essence of the architecture from above, seeing the charming rooftops and the seemingly tiny buildings beneath them, with the lights of the city sparkling all over.

  Drew was quick to point out all of the fine nuances of the view as they strolled around. He’d traveled the world, but this was Maxine’s first trip abroad. Everything had to be special and perfect—just as she was to him.

  As he spun her around in his arms, Maxine reached out and wove her fingers through his hair.

  “How about that kiss, Maxine?”

  “I’m waiting…”

  As their lips met at last, Maxine sunk further into his chest, not so much in lust but in the emotion of the split-second. Slackening with softness, his mouth brushed against hers, tickling and teasing her into a dizzying whirl. There truly was something magical about kissing high above this glorious old city.

  When a waiter from the restaurant downstairs arrived with two bottles of champagne, Drew first directed him toward that couple they’d met in the elevator. And while they offered words of gratitude from across the deck, Drew smiled modestly and waved as the waiter returned to them.

  Touching his now full champagne flute to Maxine’s, he whispered, “Happy honeymoon, Miss Merryweather…”

  “The same,” she lifted her glass, her eyes glistening like the twinkle lights that had just begun to flicker around them on the tower again, “to you, Mr. Mack...”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Do you realize…” Drew said, sipping his tiny cup of coffee while they lounged for a bit the following afternoon, “that we’ve actually not christened that fucking big bed back at the Ritz yet…and we’ve been here for well over twenty-four hours already?”

  Much to her own surprise, she hadn’t thought about the fact that they hadn’t had sex in the suite yet. With less horror than her husband seemed to be suffering, Maxine turned to him as she swirled a sugar cube into her own cup.

  “Yes, but, we haven’t spent a lot of time in that room,” she explained, “and we have indeed had sexual intercourse since clearing customs.”

  The ugly truth of the entire embarrassing matter was simple: They were jetlagged. By the time they’d returned to the hotel the night before—after playing rather hard on the winding streets of Paris—it was time to go to sleep. That morning, they were both well-rested, but so eager to get out of bed to see the city.

  This left Drew unsettled, if not on the verge of mortification. Perhaps that study was right after all and that sexual relations did decrease with a wedding ring!

  Now, he had far too much time to ponder this little fact as they took a break from sightseeing at the small café that resembled an old chalet—right in the center of Luxembourg Gardens.

  They had been busy—combing the Musée Cluny, the small monastery dating back to the Middle Ages which housed the national collection of medieval and Renaissance art. Maxine could have easily spent hours staring at The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries that depicted the senses, studying each stitch from every angle.

  From there, they’d climbed the short hill of St. Michel, diverting to the Pantheon and the tombs beneath—Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Zola and the not-so-literary Marie Curie. After that grim exploration, they meandered over to the gardens, where sat the grand palace that Marie de Medici fashioned after her own royal residence in Florence.

  Now, he was tired, and if Maxine dared to admit it, a bit of Cranky Drew emerged. She never imagined that he’d be the one who had trouble with jetlag.

  “Maxine, I’m worried,” he said with an effort to be gentle with his words.

  Sitting up so very straight, just as he loved, she unbuttoned her raincoat then a couple of the buttons on her blouse, just enough to tease him…

  “We can always go back right now, and—”

  “Maxine Elizabeth!” he reached across the small café table and nearly knocked both of their cups over in an effort to button her back up. “Stop that…!”

  “Never tempt Naughty Sassy Maxine…”

  “You wait and see what’s in store for her later this week…”

  “Promises, promises…” she muttered casually, then took another sip of coffee.

  “My poor little one didn’t have her wake up sex this morning,” he teased, framing her face with his large, smooth hands. “She’s horny.”

  “So are you!”

  “Another coffee, then a stroll?” he asked, completely dismissing her comment. “And then I say we hit the Luxembourg Museum quickly. It’s small—but I’ve never seen a bad exhibit there.”

  Faith restored in his own needs for his wife, he ordered two more coffees. All the while, he kept her knee under the tight lock of his hand beneath the table while his nails skimmed over the denim of her skinny jeans. He hadn’t lost his sex drive. He was just sleepy.

  As they strolled through the gardens, Maxine was so taken with the huge fountain that sat in front of the palace, where children guided their rented toy boats along the still water.

  Onward, they continued, exploring some of the remote paths within the gardens. In every corner there seemed to be something to look at—perfectly landscaped patches of blooming spring flowers, statues of French historical figures, more fountains. Maxine could have easily spent the rest of the day there, but Drew was anxious to indulge in art.

  After lingering in the museum for well over three hours, they kissed their way back down the hill. Eventually, they sauntered down to the heart of the Quarter with its winding cobblestone streets.

  Packed with souvenir shops and restaurants serving nearly every cuisine imaginable, this tiny corner of the city welcomed an eclectic mix of tourists, students from the Sorbonne and natives. Artists, writers, and creatives had all congregated there in that bastion of imagination throughout history. Maxine couldn’t help but make the comparison to New York’s Greenwich Village.

  For dinner, Drew had chosen La Vieux Paris, a quintessentially French find that he’d stumbled upon a few years back on one of his journeys. It was inexpensive but served the best fondue he’d ever had in France.

  The restaurant was indeed small, with only a few tables that all seemed to overlap each other. The owner himself personally took each order and chatted up all of his diners in both English and in French.

  Maxine was quite amazed just by the equipment required to keep the place running. Fondue pots and raclette grills were brought out to each table. She couldn’t imagine how they’d managed to plug everything in so effortlessly with so many people in such close proximity to each other.

  Drew ordered a bottle of champagne. Admittedly, he did get her a bit drunk that evening as they dipped into their delightfully fun meal, feeding each other and making
one colossal mess with baguette and cheese. Maxine even took selfies and texted them back home to everyone in New York and Pittsburgh.

  When at last they’d finished, with Maxine refusing coffee with her dessert of crème brulée, Drew was just happy that she hadn’t worn heels. Maneuvering her over cobblestones—especially after she’d had a few glasses of champagne—was not his easiest duty as her husband.

  Etienne had been driving them again, but Drew insisted on getting out of the car on Rue de Rivoli, a few blocks away from the hotel.

  It was a gorgeous night, with the stars creating a twinkling kaleidoscope overhead, and as they walked along toward Place Vendôme, Drew just couldn’t let her go.

  “Perfect day, Mr. McKenzie,” she said, turning to him right beneath the obelisk and standing on her toes to offer her lips to his.

  How stunning she looked with those lustful eyes glimmering right in the stream of the Paris moonlight. He couldn’t resist her and brought his lips down to hers, seeking to find her soul in that one lingering kiss.

  “Know what I want, little one?” he whispered, his breath tickling her face. “I want to make good old-fashioned Vanilla love to you tonight.” Trailing his lips down over her chin and down to her neck, he exuded such tenderness in his affections and sentiments. “How’s that sound?”

  It had been a while since they’d simply indulged in each other without the intensity of a scene playing in their forethoughts. Between the Dungeon, Maxine’s Virginity Loss 2.0…her induction into the Mile High Club…and that blowjob bet…they’d been playing a bit rough.

  “Sounds…divine…”

  They paid no mind to the few photographers who always seemed to be hovering beneath those white awnings of the hotel entrance, lying in wait for major celebrities. However, it was a slow news night, so the flashbulbs illuminated the amber-hued square. Drew was, after all, heir to one of the world’s leading luxury department stores. The paparazzi could always sell their shots to voracious New York press across the Atlantic.

  Drew knew this was just something they’d have to deal with on a much grander scale once they returned home—at least for the time being. They were a young, wealthy couple. In the public’s eyes, they’d also married on a whim. The society gossips watched their every move with fascination. Caution with the outside world was critical.

  Once in their suite, Drew couldn’t turn the lock quick enough before he pulled Maxine close again.

  “You know, per your instruction,” she began, “I have an entire suitcase filled with lingerie…”

  “Go change,” he whispered as his lips brushed her forehead. “I’ll meet you in the master.”

  There were already logs burning in the fireplace by the time Maxine returned to him in their bedroom, wearing nothing but a tiny slip of pewter satin lavishly trimmed in handmade lace. Drew had already rearranged some furniture and placed the divan right before the roaring flames. He wore nothing but his boxer briefs and a serene smile as she stepped into the room.

  Opening his arms, he whispered, “Come here, gorgeous…”

  As she joined him, he took her hands and pulled her near—her cheek resting against his chest, her face turned toward the fire. Hands roaming over the exquisite silk of her tiny nightie, he murmured, “I swear you get more beautiful every time I look at you…”

  “You’re drunk,” Maxine teased him.

  “Yeah—on you…”

  His lips ever so methodically found hers, exploring so delicately as the tip of his tongue barely flicked at the inside of her mouth. They were in no hurry at all. He simply wanted to relish in every second of that night.

  As if he were handling a delicate, porcelain doll, his hands whispered over her arms, stopping to entwine their fingers before caressing each and every one. This play verged on innocence but was so highly sensual for Maxine at the same time. He had to do nothing but simply trace over her hand, and she’d felt that spark of arousal begin to simmer. All the while, his mouth never left hers, kissing her breathless.

  Just as easily, he continued his travels of touch down over the backs of her thighs, tickling behind her knees, and then slithered down over her calves before journeying back up again. Unhurriedly, he slipped his hands beneath the lacy hem of her nightie, caressing her bare bottom that he’d spanked the night before. There was no rush. There were no urgencies. Drew could easily delight in her soft, silky skin all night long.

  With their faces so near, her lips traced a line from the bridge of his nose, over his mouth and the dimple in his chin, dragging against the roughness of his stubble, and then swept down his neck. She couldn’t help but to marvel at how relaxed they both were. Feverish lovemaking was so thrilling, but this almost sleepy stillness was such an enthralling diversion from their norm.

  Maxine hummed as she continued to kiss him, following every single curve and cut of his abs before dipping down to circle his navel with her tongue. However, she willfully resisted temptation to drift downward. This purposeful exploration lured them both into the thrall of temptation.

  For once, Maxine didn’t feel the need to push and test the limits. Instead, she just snuggled up on his stomach, and rested for a moment, while his hands combed her hair, curling the now wayward strands around his fingers.

  The clock, carved in gold, ticked away on the mantle, the sound playing against the crackle of the flames. They had no place to be but for the circle of their embrace. Reality had all but been forgotten for the time being, as they lived in just that single moment of their lives.

  Usually, Drew clamored to get her out of whatever she was wearing, but the absolute splendor of seeing Maxine’s delicate frame beneath that wisp of satin just held him captive under her spell. His hands continued their sensual caresses, and Maxine luxuriated in his gentle touches that lingered at the small of her back then played upon her hips.

  Settling back further on the antique settee, Drew closed his eyes and eased his head toward the backrest. He could feel her slithering up his chest, her hands returning to his shoulders.

  Rather than kissing, he merely rubbed his lips over hers, feeling that sweet little pucker. “My little one, would you like a tiny orgasm?”

  “Yes, please…” But as she answered, his hand had already slid beneath her negligee, his fingers circling softly. One quick jolt stirred her, and that tingle swelled as she arched her back. She could feel the gentle but steady rock of his hips against her, reminding her of his arousal, but he made no moves to lift her from his lap.

  “One more?”

  “Oh, Drew…”

  “Take that as a yes…” he mused, sitting up, and delicately suckled over her shoulder, careful not to kiss away the thin strap while his hand worked her slowly. “That’s it…ride it out…good girl…”

  “Coming…little…tiny…mmm…”

  He loved nothing more than when she dove into his provocation. She was just absolutely too adorable for words.

  “I think someone’s ready to baptize that bed,” he teased, the backs of his fingers grazing her nipples through the silk.

  So light in his lift was Maxine that all he had to do was wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist before he stood up to carry her over to the bed. Setting her down on the heavy, gold brocade comforter, he murmured against her lips, “Just sit for a minute, alright?”

  However, as he moved to take off his boxers, Maxine began to ramble again. “My friend,” Maxine jabbered on. “She’s watching…”

  “Little one?” he leaned over and kissed her temple. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know—my friend Marie…watching us right now…” She pointed to the portraits of the beheaded Queen that flanked each side of the fireplace.

  “Oh, my silly little one,” his chuckle echoed softly between them. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

  Drew had a solution for everything, and he headed for the master bath, grabbed one of the robes and proceeded to drape it over the portrait.


  “Fucking peach robes. Who puts fucking peach robes in a hotel bathroom?” he mumbled. “Only the French!”

  “Drew?”

  “Yes, Maxine?”

  “I talk to the other one…”

  Only to humor her did he return to the bathroom for the second robe. All the while, he wondered if there was some sort of silent alarm going off in the security room of the hotel, alerting the team that someone tampered with the fine art in the Imperial Suite.

  Turning on his heels, he faced Maxine again. She seemed satisfied with his quick resolution. “I hate to undress you, Maxine…” he regretted. “You look so stunning tonight…”

  “Thank…you…” she said almost shyly. She’d spent more time—and more money—than she’d ever imagined in choosing lingerie for this trip. It was something he’d wanted, and to hear that appreciation in his voice thrilled her to no end.

  Drew joined her on the bed and knelt down next to her, tugging at the hem of her nightie. “Maybe you can put it back on later…before you fall asleep.”

  “If you want me to…”

  “I would love it,” he whispered, leaning in closer and lifting the tiny garment up and over her head. “I just want all of you right now, little one.”

  Instinctually, she sat up with perfect posture, offering her breasts to his touch. As his thumbs strummed over her nipples and his hands cupped and stroked, Maxine held her breath.

  “Let’s try something just a little different tonight,” he suggested. “So that I can play with these…okay?”

  “Yes…” she gasped. “Yes…”

  As he stretched out his legs flat on the bed, he whispered, “Kneel over me, baby…but don’t take me inside you yet…”

  Carefully, Maxine pushed herself upward, then scooted forward, posing just above the head of his cock. Holding her hips steady, he eased her down slowly…inch by pulsing inch.

  “I love you, Drew…” Her lips trembled as she kissed him.

  “Love you, too, Maxine,” he smiled. “You’re good here?”

  “Good…” She tried to move, but he held her still.