What She Doesn't Know

by Beverly Barton

  She glared at him when he sat down. “Go away, Max.”

  He shrugged. “Do you think if you say it often enough, it’ll happen?”

  “One lives in hope.”

  He set his half-full glass aside, crossed his arms and rested them on the table, then smiled. “Yes, one does live in hope, doesn’t one?”

  “Can’t you at least let me eat dinner in peace?” She glanced down at her food and then up at him.

  “If you’re thinking of dumping that in my lap, don’t.”

  “The thought never crossed my mind.” A mischievous grin played at the corners of her mouth.

  “I’ll just bet it didn’t.”

  “If you’re staying, I’m leaving.”

  Max shrugged.

  Jolie removed her wallet from her small shoulder bag, took out a couple of bills, and tossed them on the table. “It’s paid for. Why don’t you stay and enjoy it?” She got up and walked off.

  Max grunted. A waiter rushed over, looked at Jolie’s untouched plate of food and then at Max.

  “She changed her mind,” Max said. “You know how women are.”

  Max got up and rushed out into the street, then grinned when he saw Jolie a block away. Not running. Not even walking fast. Didn’t she realize that he was aware of the fact that she wasn’t trying very hard to lose him? He followed her from the five hundred block of Duval Street to the two hundred block, knowing that she knew he was never more than half a block behind her.

  The bright lights and loud music coming from Sloppy Joe’s invited guests to come inside and sample the legendary good times to be found within. A country and western band provided tonight’s entertainment, and when Max followed Jolie inside, he noted that the dance floor was full. He caught sight of Jolie at the bar. Nonchalantly, she glanced around the room. Their gazes collided and locked instantly. While he made his way toward her, she didn’t move and didn’t look away. She was waiting for him. But he didn’t kid himself that this meant she had given up the fight. Oh, no. He figured she’d merely changed tactics.

  When he reached the bar area, he held out his hand to her and without either of them speaking, both understood the invitation. After only a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand and let him lead her into the center of the other couples on the dance floor. She went into his arms as if she longed to be there, and Max felt no reluctance in her body as he pulled her close. After resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, and when she sighed, every soft, pliant inch of her leaned into him. All he could think about was that Jolie Royale was heaven to touch, and if just holding her in his arms gave him this much pleasure, then what would it feel like when they made love?

  Jolie had been fighting a losing battle, but it wasn’t in her to give up without one last hurrah. Max was like a fire-breathing dragon, stomping through villages and destroying everything in his path as he hunted for his mate. If she were fighting only Max, then she might succeed, but she was also fighting her own needs, her own desires. If she gave him a little of what he wanted—of what they both wanted—would it be enough? She couldn’t understand why this had happened to her. Why had she fallen so hard and so fast for Max Devereaux? This was one complication she didn’t need in her life and knew he probably felt the same. But the crazy thing was she felt certain that he was as powerless as she was against the overwhelming passion that sizzled between them.

  As they danced, his legs shifted against hers, his thighs solid muscle. And her tight nipples brushed lightly against his hard chest, the friction sending electrical currents from her breasts to her feminine core. Her heartbeat slowed; she relaxed. Max lifted one hand up and under her hair to gently grasp her neck. His other hand drifted down her back, across her waist and splayed across her bottom.

  Lost in the crowd, Jolie felt safe. Things could only progress so far in public. A joyous sense of freedom claimed her. She could steal these moments from reality without regrets, with no harm done. For as long as the dance lasted, she could pretend that the here-and-now was all that existed. No tomorrow, when they would meet with Aaron Bendall and exchange a million dollars for the stolen Belle Rose massacre files. No yesterday, when death and betrayal had wedged an insurmountable obstacle between them.

  But the music ended all too quickly, returning her to reality. She couldn’t bring herself to step out of his arms and walk away. Not yet. Every fiber of her being told her that this was where she belonged. Then, just as she forced herself to lift her head from his shoulder, the band started another melody, softer and slower than the previous one. Max tightened his hold on her neck.

  “Don’t go,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

  She returned her head to his shoulder and draped her arms around him. They danced one dance after another and time ceased to exist. As long as they stayed here, the fantasy didn’t have to end.

  Max’s erection pressed against her, and her body responded. They were making love to each other, with every touch, every sigh and groan, every slow sweet movement of their bodies. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, needed more.

  Suddenly the music changed from slow to fast. A foot-stomping, hand-clapping song that had the customers hooting and hollering. Jolie eased away from Max, but before she could leave him, he grabbed her hand and led her straight for the exit. Once outside, the tropical breeze caressed their perspiring bodies. When Max headed them back toward their hotel, Jolie balked.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she said, using any excuse to delay the inevitable.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Just a short walk on the beach to cool us off. Please.”

  “I don’t want to cool off,” he told her. “I want to heat things up even more.” He all but dragged her along the sidewalk.

  She skidded to an abrupt halt. “Max, I can’t do this. I won’t.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and glared at her. “We’re going back to the hotel. Now. When we get there, you can go to bed alone…or you can spend the night in my arms. Your choice.”

  “I seem to have lost my ability to make logical choices,” she admitted. “If we go back to the hotel right now, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to resist.”

  He ran his hands up and down her arms, then stepped away from her and cursed under his breath. “Damn, what a thing to say to a man who’s walking around with the hard-on from hell.”

  “Don’t you think I’m hurting the same way, that I want you so badly that I’m aching? But if we do this, we’ll regret it. You know we will.”

  Like a flash of summer heat lightning, quick and violent, Max swooped her off her feet and up into his arms. “We’ll regret it if we don’t.” He marched up the sidewalk, heading for their hotel, which was only a block away.

  “Max, what are you doing?” She flung her arm around his neck to balance herself.

  “What I should have done to start with—taking what I want.”

  “You’re crazy.” She wriggled, but when he threatened to drop her, she stilled instantly. “If you think this caveman tactic is going to work with me, then buster, you’d better think again.”

  “Well, it works for me, and right now, my satisfaction is all I’m thinking about.”

  Max carried her through the empty lobby and into the cagelike elevator that took them up to their suite. Somehow he managed to unlock the door and get inside without much effort. The sitting room between their bedrooms lay in semidarkness, only the golden glow from a small lamp illuminated the room.

  “Put me down,” she demanded. “You’re not going to force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  Disregarding her command, he shoved open the partially closed door to his bedroom. Soft moonlight glimmering through the French doors saved the room from total darkness. He carried her across the room and dumped her in the middle of his bed. My God, he isn’t going to stop! Jolie scurried to the side of the bed and jumped up. Before she could take a step, Max was in her face. She gasped.

  He grabbed her hi
ps and hauled her up against him, then rubbed his stiff sex back and forth across her mound. Of its own accord her body undulated against him, seeking a closer union. He thrust his hands up under her sundress, grasped the edge of her panties, and dragged them down her hips, letting them fall to her ankles.

  “You won’t need these,” he told her.

  She swallowed hard. Every feminine instinct urged her not to resist. She longed to give of herself and take all that she needed from him in return.

  Jolie lifted one foot, then the other, stepping out of her panties. “Max, I’m not sure. I’m afraid—”

  With a ruthless surge, he yanked her to him, both hands under her dress, cupping her bare buttocks as his head lowered and his lips claimed hers. His mouth consumed; his tongue mated with hers. Jolie’s bones dissolved.

  Max’s kisses were lethal.

  After he had kissed her until they were both breathless, he nuzzled her neck and groaned a reluctant admission. “I feel the same way. Wanting someone the way I want you is frightening. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do in order to have you.”

  As her mind reeled with his confession, Max shoved her gently onto the bed and came down over her, his breathing fast and powerful. He shoved her dress up to her waist, unzipped his slacks, and eased his penis from his briefs. Her eyes widened in surprise when, without any preliminary coaxing, he parted her thighs and rammed into her, taking her swiftly and completely. He filled her mind and her heart as well as her body. The realization that she had never wanted a man the way she wanted Max coaxed her body into compliance, uncaring that his actions bordered on ruthlessness.

  His big hands clasped her hips and set a steady thrusting rhythm. As his penis rooted deeply and withdrew, then repeated the process, she writhed beneath him, seeking the perfect position to absorb the friction of every thrust against her clitoris. He was large and hard and hot. He grunted. He groaned. He murmured earthy words of intent and appreciation. As the tension built inside her, threatening her with the pain of unfulfilled need and promising the possibility of an earth-shattering release, she rocked against him faster, urging him to intensify his lunges.

  “Oh, God, Max…please…please…”

  He jackhammered into her with frenetic energy. She responded wildly as she began climaxing, the sensation intensifying until it exploded inside her and sent shock waves through her body. Within moments after she cried out her completion, he shivered and shook as he came, his orgasm demolishing every ounce of his self-control. He groaned and growled and then collapsed heavily on top of her. It was a weight she bore gladly.

  Jolie wrapped her arms around Max and buried her face against his neck, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again. And she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was this moment, this night—and never letting go of the man she loved, who was also the man she hated.

  Chapter 26

  Jolie lay in the bed beside Max, her breathing slow and even, her eyes open and staring up at the dark ceiling. She’d never had sex like that before, so raw and primitive, so all-consuming. The very intensity of her need for Max frightened her. How was it possible to want someone so desperately that all rational thought ceased to exist once you came together? She had considered him her enemy for so long that even now, after having shared with him the most mind-shattering sex of her entire life, she guarded her heart from him. She didn’t dare let him know he possessed the power not only to hurt her but to destroy her.

  “I hate you,” she said softly.

  “Yes, I know. I hate you, too, for making me lose control. I pride myself on being able to handle my emotions.” He rolled out of bed and stood. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller. A part of me likes it, but another part of me despises it.”

  Suddenly realizing that her sundress was still hiked up to her waist, Jolie jerked the red cotton material down to cover her nakedness. “Well, now that we’ve done it…now that we’ve had each other, there’s no reason for—”

  Max moved with lightning speed, grabbed her, and yanked her out of bed. She stood on wobbly legs, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth gaping open as she stared at him.

  “You don’t really think once was enough, do you?” His gaze raked over her. “Why don’t you take off that damn dress?”

  “What?” She gulped. Mercy, she wasn’t sure she could survive another round of frenzied lovemaking so soon.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” He removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor. “Get out of that dress and come with me.”

  He kicked off his shoes, slipped out of his socks, and then undid his belt. Her gaze traveled south, as he unzipped his slacks, and she watched in utter fascination as he shucked off his pants and briefs. Maximillian Devereaux was a magnificent man, muscular yet lean, with a light dusting of black hair on his arms, legs, and chest. And a very impressive penis nestled in a thatch of dark hair between his powerful thighs. Remembering what it felt like to have him buried deep inside her excited Jolie anew. How was it possible to want him again almost immediately after being thoroughly satisfied?

  Not giving the consequences a thought, she unzipped the side closing of her sundress and lifted it up and over her head. She stood before him, naked and totally unashamed. Max’s hot glare swept over her, so intense she could feel its warmth as it skimmed along her neck, over her breasts, down her belly, and to her mound. She quivered, every nerve attuned to his inspection, her flesh responsive, her entire body totally aware. His big hand lifted, touched her face, glided down her neck, over one breast, and leisurely clasped her waist. Without a word, he guided her from the bedroom into the bath, where he turned on the shower and led her inside the tile-and-glass cubicle. Within the steamy confinement, Max became her adoring servant, lathering her body, scrubbing gently, giving special attention to her breasts and buttocks. She ached unbearably, her core throbbing with need. But he didn’t touch her there, as if he knew how desperately she wanted him to and was making her wait, prolonging her torment.

  When he handed her the soap, she was breathless with anticipation, her hands yearning to touch him as he had touched her. As she washed his chest, his nipples peaked, prompting her to rinse them and then lick them. Max growled. She turned him around and scrubbed his broad muscular back. Her mouth followed the water’s trail, downward over his back, his waist, and his taut buttocks. Then she eased him around again, carefully avoided his genital area, and washed his long hairy legs. As she moved back up his body, his jutting penis confronted her, practically demanding attention. She allowed it only the briefest flick, her fingertips skimming over the tip and moving away quickly. Max groaned, then shut off the water and pulled her out of the shower. He grabbed a small towel and draped it around her head, then took a huge towel and dried her quickly. Still wet himself, he lifted her up and onto the vanity, spread her legs, and eased between them.

  As he splayed one big hand across her back, he lowered his head and took her mouth. She responded by opening herself to him, her mouth, her femininity, and her heart. When she felt his fingers exploring her soft dampness, she sighed and lifted her hips up and down, riding the strumming motion of his fingertips. He deepened the kiss and the intimate caresses until Jolie whipered and writhed. Close, so close. Now…now…now! The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, washing over her with surge after surge of sensation.

  Crying out, she slumped against him. He held her as the aftershocks rippled through her body. Then when she rested in his arms, momentarily sated and relaxed, he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed. Standing over her in the shadowy moonlight, he appeared huge and dark and dangerous. She could feel his gaze on her, caressing her. Why was he standing there? What was he waiting for?

  His chest rose and fell with each deep, hard breath. Jolie rose into a sitting position, slid to the edge of the bed, and lifted herself onto her knees.

  “Max?”

  “Hmmm?” His voice sounded tortured.

 
“What’s wrong?”

  She looked up at him; he closed his eyes and gripped his hands into fists. Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly.

  “Max, you’re frightening me.” She reached up and placed her open palm in the center of his chest, then shuddered when she felt the powerful thumping of his heart.

  He grabbed her wrist, shoved her flat onto her back, crossways in the bed, and came down over her, straddling her. She gazed up into his face and gasped. The strain showed plainly in his expression, tension etched on his features.

  “I don’t want to frighten you,” he told her, his voice deep and gravelly. “But the way I feel about you…the way I want you…the things I want to do to you scare the hell out of me.”

  “Oh, Max.” She reached out to him with her free hand.

  He grasped that hand, too, and flung both of her arms over her head, pinning them there, trapping her beneath him. Panting as uncertainty combined with heady desire, Jolie waited, anticipation preparing her body for his domination. He ravaged her mouth, kissing, plunging, sucking, nibbling. And when he had it conquered, he moved on to new territory. Her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. He lingered over her breasts, laving each nipple, sucking greedily, and then pulling gently with his teeth until she squirmed and whined and pleaded.

  “Max?” She ached with need.

  “Shh.” He soothed her with kisses across her rib cage, then he eased his hold on her hands, as he moved down over her belly, sampling her navel on his trip to exotic southern regions.

  He parted her legs and placed his head between her thighs. She lifted her hips and caught either side of his head with her open palms. He glanced at her, his gaze blazing with salacious intention, and then he opened his mouth and delved his tongue into her moist depths. She bucked, lifting herself up to him. He grabbed her hips and held her in place for his marauding mouth. His tongue flicked over her clitoris, then laved with deep powerful strokes. And when she mewed loudly as she clutched his shoulders, he increased the pressure and the pace until she went wild. While she climaxed, he rose up and over her, then thrust into her, again and again and again, battering her body with the force of his need.