Max (7 Brides for 7 Brothers Book 5)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Yeah, but she wouldn’t have gone along with it even if you presented her a buyer with a million in cash free and clear for her.

  No, she wouldn’t have. Ellie didn’t think that way. She probably should, but she didn’t. The farm meant something to her, and it was something more than what he’d thought at first, which was simply nostalgia and tradition.

  She cared about the horses. Cared about Miguel and Lacey. Hell, she probably even cared about the students who came to take lessons and the people she bought grain and tack from. Ellie cared about people, not profit.

  He heard the water running upstairs and he thought of her in the shower, water sluicing over her naked body. That didn’t do much for his state of mind, but it did make him hard.

  Shit, maybe he should have taken the time to let off a little steam before coming to Kentucky. He hadn’t done so. He had a few women he could have called, women who didn’t expect anything from him other than a few orgasms every once in a while when he was in town. But he’d opened the envelope, done an Internet search that told him nothing, and then climbed into his truck and headed west.

  He’d wanted to deal with the farm and Ellie Applegate right away.

  The water shut off and he pictured her reaching for a towel, drying her lush body, her brown hair wet and dripping. What the hell was he going to do about this farm? About Ellie? About the way he wanted to lay her down on a bed and explore every inch of her body?

  It was damned inconvenient to have a hard-on for the woman he was supposed to be convincing to let go of her farm for both their benefits. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see who was calling.

  Ian Black. He’d told the former CIA agent that he wasn’t taking any jobs for a while, but he answered anyway.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  “Wondering how it’s going,” Ian replied.

  Max snorted as he walked toward the kitchen. He needed a beer. And maybe a spot on the porch where he could listen to the night sounds of the farm.

  “It’s going.”

  “You ready to come back to work?”

  Ordinarily, Max would be champing at the bit—ha-ha—to head out for an adventure. A week in Kentucky shoveling shit, birthing horses, and renovating a house ought to have him on edge by now.

  But he wasn’t on edge. Or not because of shit and renovations.

  “What do you have?” he asked, because he was programmed to want to know.

  “Incursion in Acamar. We need boots on the ground to hold back the Freedom Force.” Acamar had been volatile for quite some time—since neighboring Qu’rim had been undergoing a civil war. The Freedom Force was a group of terrorists that was widely believed to be fueling the rebellion. If they got a toehold in Acamar—well, that nation could fall too. “You’re one of my best operators, Max. I know you’ve got shit to deal with, but we could use you.”

  “Give me some time,” he said, though his gut ached at the thought and guilt at the idea of leaving tore through him. “I have to wrap some things up here first, but a stint in the desert sounds good. I’ll get back with you as soon as I can, though it could be a couple of weeks or so.”

  “The sooner the better, man.”

  “Copy that. Over and out.”

  He didn’t have to end the call because Ian had already done it. He sat there looking at the moon rising over the farm and outlining the horses in the pasture. It was so peaceful here. So beautiful. Did going to the desert really sound good? Or was he contemplating running from something he couldn’t quite figure out?

  “Are you leaving?”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, cursing himself for not hearing her approach. Usually he heard everything. His life depended on it more often than not. But he’d been so wrapped up in the call and his thoughts that he’d missed it.

  Which meant he was slipping, because now that she was here, he could smell her shampoo. She was wearing a robe that lay open, the ties dangling at her sides. Beneath that was a dark top that appeared to end somewhere above the waistband of the dark, formfitting pants clinging low on her hips. As if he needed to be reminded of her curves. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, wrapped around her body as she held herself. It was a defensive posture, and he wondered how much she’d heard. What she thought.

  “I have to at some point,” he said, because he had to be honest with her.

  “That sounded like you were going sooner rather than later.”

  “Would you like that?”

  He heard her suck in a breath. “I—” She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “And no,” she blurted. She came closer, standing over him where he sat in the chair. She smelled sweet and clean, and he wanted to tug her close and bury his face in her belly, which was at eye level. “If you’re here, I worry about the farm and what’s going to happen. If you go, then I think I have time and I can fix everything. But if you go… I’ll miss you. It’s crazy, but I kind of like having you around.”

  “When I don’t piss you off, of course.” He wanted to laugh even as a wave of relief washed through him. And then there was the strong urge to possess her that was beating a furious tempo in his brain.

  “Of course.”

  “Ellie, I need to tell you something.” Because it was getting more and more difficult to keep his hands off her. Especially now when he was so torn between the life he knew—a life of war and brutality—and the pastoral life that he was currently leading.

  Her voice, when she spoke, sounded breathless, as if she had some indication of what he was about to say. Or maybe she simply felt the currents snapping between them too. “Yes?”

  “If you don’t want to end up naked in a bed with me tonight, you need to walk back inside that house right now.”

  13

  Ellie’s body melted, liquefying at his words—at the heat and need in them. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Stay? Or run?

  Running was sensible. Running would protect her. Her heart, her soul.

  But staying—oh, staying was so damned tempting. Because what waited for her if she stayed? She already knew she was powerfully attracted to this man. She was primed and ready to go off at the slightest touch.

  But was that safe? Was it sensible?

  Of course it wasn’t sensible. And possibly not safe considering the lonely state of her heart. He’d been talking about leaving. About going to the desert, and she was certain that wasn’t a good place where fun things happened.

  He’d been talking about going back to work. Putting himself in harm’s way. She hated the idea.

  “Ellie,” he growled. A warning.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t back away. Her nipples had tightened almost painfully, and she could feel the building heat between her legs. She ached and wanted and needed. So, so much. And if he left, she would never get it. Never find out.

  “I’m not going.” Her throat was tight as she said the words, but right now that was her truth. She wasn’t going. And she didn’t want him to go either. Not right now. And not anytime soon. Which was crazy, right?

  But it was true.

  He still didn’t move. “You should. I can’t promise you anything, Ellie. My life is chaotic. Dangerous and messy. I’m not the kind of man to stay anywhere for long.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think I asked you to stay, did I?”

  But a part of her soul ached at the thought he wouldn’t. That he would pack up and leave her house and her life just as easily as he had come into it. And he wouldn’t leave it for the better if he got his way and sold her farm, would he?

  His voice was soft and smooth and determined. “Are you telling me that a hot and dirty fling is all you want? Because that’s all I have to give.”

  She snorted. “For a man who warned me I needed to get into the house before he stripped me naked, you sure are spending a lot of time trying to talk me out of it. Maybe you’re the one wh
o doesn’t know what you want, Max. You ever think of that?”

  He rose in a fluid, graceful movement that managed to surprise her with its speed. And then he was towering over her, his body taking up so much of her personal space.

  She shivered. Because that’s all she could do. Would he touch her? Or would he continue to insist she didn’t know what she wanted and walk away? The truth was that she didn’t know. She couldn’t predict what Max Brannigan would do at any given minute.

  She decided she was tired of waiting. Hell, why should she wait when she’d decided she wanted this?

  She stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tugged his head down. He could have resisted her, she knew that, but he didn’t. He let her lead him into the kiss.

  And then he took over, as if the bands of his steely control had finally given way. He had his hands on her hips, tugging her into him, letting her feel every inch of his arousal. Ellie tried to press herself closer as the fireworks in her body started to burn and pop. These were only the preliminaries—she couldn’t imagine how good the main event would be.

  Suddenly, he reached down and cupped her behind, urging her up. She lifted her legs, put them around his waist—and her belly did a free fall into her toes. He was so big and strong, and she was next to nothing in his arms. She liked it.

  He started moving, still kissing her, and then he broke the kiss and kicked the door open. He kicked it closed behind them and she laughed.

  “Where am I taking you?” he asked, and she knew he wanted to know where she would be most comfortable. His room and the air mattress. Her room. A guest room.

  God, she hadn’t thought that far ahead—but somehow she knew she wanted to be in her room. Maybe that was a mistake—maybe, once he’d gone, she’d regret that she’d ever let him into her bed. And then she’d be forced to change rooms, and that would piss her off.

  “Upstairs. Down the hall. Sixth door on the right.”

  He kissed her again, and she melted into him. It took a good ten minutes to get there because he kept stopping and kissing her, but they made it up the stairs and into her room. He strode over to the bed, dropping her backward and coming down on top of her. Her legs were still around him, and she realized with a groan just how perfect it was.

  His cock rode the crease in her thighs, pressing into the sensitive spot that ached for his touch. She’d put on a pair of leggings and a crop top, then put her robe on over that before she’d gone to find him. Now she was wishing she’d put on the robe and nothing else.

  Except how forward would that have been?

  He kissed her thoroughly, slowly and deliciously, as if he had all the time in the world. She felt like she didn’t have all the time though. She wanted more, and she wanted it now. But he wasn’t going to be hurried.

  He slipped the robe open and palmed her breast, his mouth still on hers. Still demanding and perfect. Excitement built inside her, made her squirm. Her body was on fire. She wanted his mouth in other places, not just on hers, but she also didn’t want him to stop kissing her. It was a hell of a dilemma.

  He ran a hand down her side, under the edge of her top, and then up beneath it, his fingers gliding against bare skin until he reached her bra. He pulled the cup down and toyed with her nipple, and she nearly came unglued.

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her, a knowing and smug look on his face. “You like that?”

  “Absolutely not,” she said. “It’s terrible.”

  He chuckled. “And you’re a terrible liar, Ellie.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. Now what the heck was she doing, lying beneath this man while he touched her so intimately and making jokes? He was going to think her cracked in the head if she didn’t stop.

  “I wonder what you would do,” he murmured, “if I put my mouth there instead?”

  “Why don’t you find out?” The moment she said it, heat blazed through her—but was it embarrassment or anticipation? God knew she wasn’t a virgin—but she wasn’t exactly Miss Experience either.

  He sat up, his knees on either side of her body, and put his fists on his hips. “This will work better if you get rid of that robe, you know.”

  She shrugged out of it as quickly as she could, her heart racing merrily along. He put his hands on the edge of her top and started to push it upward, revealing her skin slowly. She wanted to scream.

  “Max.”

  He had a faraway look in his eyes when his gaze met hers. “What?”

  “You can go a little faster.”

  He grinned. “Impatient?”

  “If you must know, yes. It’s been a long time for me—and I’m dying here.”

  His expression grew fierce. “How long?”

  She swallowed. Well, she’d brought it up, hadn’t she? “More than two years.”

  “More than— Jesus, Ellie. I had no idea.”

  “Well, why would you? And also, this talking thing is going on a little too long.”

  He reached for her top again and shoved it up and over her head as she lifted herself, whipping it off and dropping it on the floor. “I can fix that, honey. Believe me.” He sat back a second. “But first, let me look at those gorgeous breasts.”

  She’d put on a black lace demibra before she’d gone downstairs, and she was very glad about that at the moment. The creamy swells of her breasts threatened to spill over the cups. One cup was askew since he’d tugged it down a moment ago. He reached out and tugged both cups down, exposing her nipples and causing her breasts to sit up high.

  “Now that’s a beautiful sight,” he murmured. And then he pressed his palms to either side of her shoulders and levered himself down until his mouth was within inches of her nipples. “You sure about this, Ellie?”

  Was she sure? Her body was strung so tight she thought she might scream if he didn’t touch her—and even if he did. There were things skipping and jumping and clamoring for joy inside her that she had forgotten existed. Was she sure? Oh hell yes.

  “Yes, Max. I’m sure. Please, please stop talking.”

  He laughed—and then he fastened his lips around one nipple, sucking it deep while she gasped and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. Oh, the sizzling torment streaking through her right now. Her body was like a bow, strung tight and ready to snap at his command.

  He cupped her other breast with his hand, his thumb gliding over her neglected nipple while he continued to drive her insane with his mouth. He licked and sucked and teased—and then he moved to the other nipple while cool air chilled the one he’d just left.

  She was wet. So wet and achy. So ready to feel him between her thighs, his hard body driving into hers and reminding her how wonderful sex could be.

  She didn’t know how long she was going to have to wait for that moment, but she wasn’t unhappy with what he was doing now. Her nipples were far more sensitive to the touch of his mouth than she’d expected them to be.

  He reached for the waistband of her leggings and dragged them downward. When he lifted himself off her to remove them, she helped. Now she was clad only in black lace panties and her bra, which currently did nothing to hide her breasts from his gaze.

  “Wow,” he said, and she blushed at his approval.

  “I’d like to be wowed too,” she replied. “If you’d care to remove a few things for me.”

  He reached down and grabbed the edge of his T-shirt with one hand, lifting it off in a smooth maneuver that managed to be sexy as hell. Her breath caught at the sight of his chest. She’d seen him shirtless the day he’d helped Miguel muck stalls, but that had been from a distance. Now?

  “I’m wowed,” she breathed, and he chuckled. She lifted a hand and touched hot skin. He was muscled, but not hugely so. Beautifully so, she’d say. There was a dark, shiny mark on his shoulder. Round. She bit her lip, frowning.

  “An old gunshot wound,” he said, and her belly squeezed tight. If he went to the desert, as the person on the other end of the phone earlier seemed to want, what m
ight happen to him then?

  He lowered his head and captured her mouth. She opened to him, their tongues tangling hotly. And then he stopped and gave her a look. “It’s an old wound, Ellie. Emphasis on old.”

  Had she been that transparent?

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re bulletproof. Or does it? Do they have suits for that now?” She kept her voice light and teasing, but yes, it worried her. She didn’t know why that should be—except she liked him, dammit. Liked him a lot. Even though she shouldn’t.

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk. Yet here you are, talking. A lot.”

  “Then make me stop, Max. Make it impossible to talk.”

  “Challenge accepted, babe. Hold on, because I’m about to rock your world.”

  He launched into a full frontal assault that took her breath away. He slid down her body, gliding his mouth down to the waistband of her panties. And then he slipped the black lace off her hips and over her knees. They disappeared somewhere, but she couldn’t quite say where because he pushed her knees open and touched his tongue to her center and her mind went utterly blank.

  “Damn, you’re wet,” he murmured before spreading her open with his thumbs and swiping his tongue over the delicate pink bud of her clit.

  Ellie arched her back, her hips lifting off the bed. Her mouth opened but nothing intelligible came out. Max slid his tongue over her clit again and again, until she was nearly mindless with the pleasure building inside her. Her skin was hot, her body burned, and the temperature in the room went up a million degrees.

  She felt a crisis gathering deep inside her, the tightening of her body that signaled release, the impossible heat and pleasure that bordered on pain because it hurt so good. She was desperate to come, and yet she wanted to prolong the moment as long as she could because it had been so long and she didn’t want it to be over too quickly.

  But Max was too good for that. He held her down, held her legs open, and licked her into oblivion.

  She came in a rush, gasping for breath and moaning his name at the same time. Her body splintered and reformed and splintered again. He eased off her and sat on the side of the bed.