“Really?” Alya frowned. “You truly think Max would do that?”
Natasha took off her glasses and massaged her temples. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn’t. Everything she knew about Max told her he was careful about hurting anyone. So why did she still feel like throwing up?
“Just talk to him about it,” Alya said softly. “Call him.”
Natasha took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. But I need to calm down a little first.”
She eyed the newspaper once more, but Alya hid it behind her back. “Nope. I’m getting this out of our apartment.”
Her sister headed off to her room, presumably to get dressed, and Natasha flopped back onto the sofa. She propped her legs on the arm and covered her face with a pillow. What the hell had she gotten herself into? The larger-than-life man, the media speculations, the jealousy—she was firmly in Illana Petrova territory. But even with years of watching her mother’s dramas unfold, she couldn’t just get herself to be logical and rational about the article. It was doing crazy things to her insides.
This was Max Jensen, a man whose family had captured the nation’s interest over and over. And probably always would. This wouldn’t be the last time she’d read speculations about who he was with, and any relationship with him would be publicly dissected. Natasha knew exactly what she would be signing up for.
If she called him right now, she’d regret it. Everything in her ached to fight back, to make him see why this wasn’t fair to her, to sever all ties with him—anything to get out from under the jealousy and inadequacy that were seething through her. Feelings she had left behind when she’d moved to Australia. And tomorrow she was his date to the foundation dinner. She threw another pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m going out to recycle the newspaper,” called Alya from the hall. “I’ll stop at the bakery to pick up something buttery and sugary, too.”
“Thanks,” Natasha mumbled from under the pillows.
The front door creaked open, and Alya said something too softly to hear.
“What?” Natasha called.
Her sister didn’t answer, and the door closed. Natasha took a couple deep breaths, but her serenity now moment was interrupted by footsteps.
“Forget something?” she called to her sister.
“Nope.”
The deep, male voice startled her, but she knew exactly who it was. She sat up, the cushion slipping onto the floor. “Max?” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been standing outside your door for a while, debating whether to knock, and then your sister made the decision for me,” he grumbled. He stopped in front of her, and she blinked up at him.
“You don’t look so good,” she said. His hair was standing up on one side, and the dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping well.
Max ran his hand through his hair and gave an exasperated sigh. “Thanks. You look hot as ever.”
“Don’t say—”
But he cut her off before she could finish.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to be involved with my family,” he said, his words tumbling out. “The press release was supposed to raise awareness for the charity. I never would have agreed to it if I’d known...”
He let the last word linger in the air as he shook his head. Then he squatted down in front of her, resting his hands on her legs. Her heart gave a traitorous leap. He was so close, and his blue eyes were intense and serious.
“You know it’s not true,” he said softly. “I would never do that to you.”
She blew out a breath. “No, you wouldn’t. Not like that. Not on purpose.”
“Thank fuck,” he muttered. He brought his hands to her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers. It was the softest, the gentlest of kisses, and he stayed like that, eyes closed, breathing against her.
“I’ve missed you these last few days,” he whispered.
She bit her lip. “I missed you, too.”
“Please come with me to the fundraiser tomorrow.” His words came out forcefully, and he huffed out a breath.
Natasha frowned. “This is shaping up to be my worst nightmare, Max.”
“I know, Nat.”
“I don’t want to deal with...this.” She gestured between them helplessly. “The drama, the public humiliation.”
“No,” he said, and he leaned forward to kiss her. “I won’t let it be like that.”
“Not on purpose.” All the problems faded away as he touched her, smoothed her hair, took her bottom lip between his. God, she loved kissing this man. It was hard to stop once she started.
“I’ll make sure you’re protected,” he said. “No photos of you published, no photos with Francesca or anyone else that could set off suspicions.”
Another kiss, and another. Her heart was thumping madly, and her body ached for more. It felt so good, but she pulled back. “What are you doing?”
“Reminding you of why you want to say yes.”
She chuckled. It was, in fact, a very good reminder. “What am I walking into, Max?” she asked softly.
“The breast cancer clinic is for my mother, her legacy,” he said quietly, his eyes so sad and serious. “I have to be a part of that.”
Natasha nodded. “Of course you want to be there tomorrow, Max.”
Max shook his head impatiently. “I’m not just attending the event.” He sat back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is my future, Natasha. I’m going to be the president of the Jensen Family Foundation, which means I’m the face of it, too. All that PR bullshit. Which was why that photo with Francesca happened.”
She stilled. The situation had just managed to get worse. And he was still asking her to step into this with him.
“And if I go, I’ll be a part of that?” she asked.
“No, not if you don’t want to,” he said. “You’ll be there because there’s no one else I’d want to go with. And this is our family’s function, so I can control what members of the press come and what photos they’re allowed to publish. But after this one, things will probably change.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “And you’re inviting me so I can witness that?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m inviting you because it’ll be a hard day, and having you there will make it a lot better. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I’m feeling a little desperate right now.” He rested his hand on her thigh, moving it up and down slowly. “I want you with me.”
She tried to contain a swell of hope as he ran his other hand through her hair, down her neck, over her shoulder. He leaned closer, so his mouth was almost touching hers.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about my new position this week. I’m going to have the attention of the media, and what matters is what I do with it. I can use it for something good,” he said. “But that goes for you, too. If the media spotlight points your way, you can deflect it toward something you care about—a cause, an organization, whatever.”
He was talking about more than just Saturday’s event. He was asking her to consider beyond Saturday, to try something more. Her gut reaction was to argue that things were different for him and her, that being the woman who took him off the market, with the possibility of being publicly labeled as inadequate, wasn’t the same as being known as Australia’s beloved playboy. But Max already knew it wasn’t the same. He was asking her to look at it differently, to look at what she could do with it instead of what it did to her.
“I’ll consider it,” she said softly. “I’m still making up my mind about Saturday.”
The intensity of his gaze didn’t let up. The man in front of her was pretty much the opposite of laid-back Max.
“You attend evenings like this with Alya,” he said, pressing her. “Why is this different?”
�
��Alya is my sister. I know she’d never—” Natasha stopped, midsentence. She’d never what? It took a minute to sort out the rest of her thought. Her sister would never do anything at Natasha’s expense. Alya would always protect her, the way Natasha would always be there for her sister. The way their mother hadn’t. Illana Petrova had been too far down the rabbit hole of her own drama to have time for a thirteen-year-old’s insecurities. “She’d never leave me exposed.”
Max seemed to be hanging onto every word she said. He nodded slowly. The living room was quiet, just the sounds of Max’s breathing, the slide of his fingers over her pajamas and the thump of her heart.
“No matter what happens between us, I would never leave you exposed,” he said, breaking the silence. “Please trust me on that.”
She looked into his beautiful blue eyes, so achingly serious. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this man.
“Can I get back to reminding you why this is all worth your while?” he asked, his lips brushing against her neck.
She took a deep breath and nodded. God, she still wanted him, no matter what crazy thoughts or hang-ups scrolled through her head. “My sister will be back soon.”
“Does that mean yes, please, move faster?”
She smiled and shook her head. “It means let’s go to my room.”
* * *
Holy hell.
Max was in Natasha’s room, with its carefully organized shelves and her neatly made bed. White walls, sparsely decorated with a cluster of photos. One of Alya and her as kids. One on a beach with friends or colleagues, diving gear off to the side. One with another group of friends, piled in a car... There were so many parts of Natasha’s life he didn’t know about, so many things he wanted to know. There was also a photo of a couple, and Max recognized the woman: her mother. Was that her father, too? Under the photo arrangement was a low shelf, filled with thick novels. He pulled one out. Science fiction—at least it appeared to be from the cover. Was that what she liked to read?
Beyond the photos and the books, there wasn’t much else in the room beyond the basics. A desk with nothing but a single framed picture on it. This was Natasha’s sanctuary, where everything was kept in its place. The glimpse at her orderly room hit him like a punch in the gut. He was turning her orderly life upside down. Of course she was wary of him. Hell, even he was wary of the kind of chaos he could wreak on her life.
He wandered across the wooden floor to the window where Natasha had stood that first night and stripped for him. He lifted a row of the blinds and peeked out at the street below. Down in his truck that first night, he had jacked off imagining a blow job from her. Not once wondering what she was imagining upstairs.
Natasha closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. “You okay, Max?”
“Of course.” He turned around and took her in. Her hair hung in messy waves around her face, and her pajama top was a little askew. Beautiful as ever. And no bra. Max sighed. Horny thoughts once again, though with Natasha, they were mixed up with other feelings now.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breath caught as he slipped his hand around the back of her neck.
“Remember that first night?” he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “You mean the red-light district show I gave you?”
“Yeah, that one.” He smiled. “Did that night have a happy ending for you, too?”
Natasha chuckled. “Yep.”
“What did you imagine?”
A new flush crept up her cheeks, and she swallowed, her delicate throat quivering.
“Nothing exciting. I just imagined plain old sex with you, nothing more. Right here against the door, actually.”
He brushed his fingers over her pulse, throbbing at the base of her neck, then kissed her forehead. That was what she wanted.
“Boring, right?” she added with a wry smile.
He shook his head. “Not at all.” He pressed his lips against hers. Heaven. That was what this was right now. He kissed her again. “Was I gentle? Or rough? Or something else?”
Just standing here, touching her, breathing in her scent was making his dick hard. He had been aching for her every day and every night since they left Green Island. Talking about this was going to drive him insane, but it was time to put himself aside.
“Not gentle or rough. Just...” Natasha bit her lip. “Just the way we were when we kissed in the kitchen. Like that.”
He nodded. “It was good, wasn’t it? You want to pick up right from there?”
“We’re not there anymore, Max.”
Max kissed her jaw and nipped at her neck. “This will be better than where we were. I promise.”
She laughed and held his face in her hands, bringing his mouth to hers again. He met her soft gray eyes, and her smile faded.
“I’m trying.” Her voice was so husky and serious.
I’m falling in love with you. Derek had been right, and he wanted to tell her. But not now. He needed to give her a chance to think about what he had said. Give her a chance to think about a future that they shaped together, not the pressures that could shape them.
Max fingered the buttons of her pajama top. One by one, he slowly unfastened them. The shirt slipped down over her shoulders revealing the tops of her breasts.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “I could spend the whole day getting off with your beautiful tits.”
Her breath caught. Then she smiled a slow, sexy smile. “I feel the same about many of your parts.” She reached between them and put her hand on his cock.
He groaned. Fuck, it felt good. And he wanted her to feel just as good right now.
“Hold that thought, darling,” he said, moving her hand to his waist. “Let’s go a little slower.”
His hands skimmed over the curve of her hips, and he bent down and took a mouthful of one plump breast. Her skin was soft. He could have sworn he still tasted the ocean on her skin, but maybe it was just her. He sucked experimentally, swirling his tongue over her nipple, and she shivered and moaned. He did it again, and her fingers flexed hard into the muscles of his torso. He kissed a trail to her other breast and opened his mouth for another taste. Natasha arched into him and breathed out his name.
He wanted this woman, and his dick throbbed, begging for attention. He kissed a trail up to her neck, to her ear. But when he looked down, it was her. Natasha. The woman he teased, who made him laugh, who came on to him and stripped for him in her bedroom window. This time, it was for real.
“Natasha,” he groaned, cupping her face.
Her eyes softened as she stared up at him. His lips crashed against hers, starved for so long, so achingly hungry. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulled him to her. She opened for him, licking, biting, and he responded, searching for more of her. The magic pulled between them. Her lips were so soft and salty-sweet, and he took the bottom one between his teeth. Fuck, he had to be careful or he would devour her. He caressed her mouth with his tongue, teasing, showing her how it would be if she gave him a chance. He traced a line down her stomach, slipping his hand into her pajama bottoms.
His fingers reached the warm, wet heat and then he found her clit. Yeah, he definitely found it, by the way she was twisting and panting and breathing his name. Max’s brain stuttered as the urge for more stepped up another notch. Her cries stirred a deep rumble in his chest.
Too many clothes. He wanted to sink deep inside her, to hear her moan, to feel her shudder. But he couldn’t get himself to let go of her. Max took a deep breath and released her.
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why are we stopping?”
“Just give me a second,” he groaned.
After a few more breaths, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and found a condom. The wallet dropped to the floor, then the wrapper, and he unzipped himself and finally, finally let his aching co
ck free. Slowly, he rolled on the condom.
His entire body was tingling, and his cock was fighting to shut out every thought except one: sink deep into her sweet heat. But not yet. “It’s so good between us, Natasha. That’s not going to change.”
He lifted his hand to her cheek and waited until her eyes met his. She hesitated, and when she finally blinked up at him, her eyes were filled with wonder. As if she was searching just as hard to make sense of this as he was. Then the wonder in her eyes turned to molten heat. This was happening, right now.
She tugged down her pajama bottoms, and they fell to the floor. Her eyes narrowed with lust.
“Hold on, sweetheart.”
He lifted her. Natasha’s legs opened around him, positioning herself over his rock-hard erection. He leaned forward, pressing her back against the door, his face buried in her hair. Slowly, he lowered her, inch by inch. Her breaths came faster in sharp pants. Heat, so much warmth, calling him.
“I’m going to drown in you, Max,” she whispered.
“Then we’ll go down together. I’m right there with you,” he said. “I promise.”
Fuck, she was going to drive him insane. He was done with slow. He was done with holding back. With one hard thrust, he buried himself deep. Her teeth sank into his shoulder, and he let out a groan of deep satisfaction. Yes.
“You can bite me as hard as you want to,” he said, teeth gritted. “It makes my cock even harder.”
Before she could react, he moved his hips, pulling out and coming in. Natasha tilted her head back and moaned. He held her up against the door, her soft ass in his hands, drove into her, again and again. Her nails dug into his biceps, his muscles strained from lifting her, from the relentless thrusts, and his balls tingled with the promise of ecstasy. His whole body was alive. This was so goddamn perfect.
Natasha’s moans turned to cries, and she clawed at his back, pulling herself closer. The still-functioning parts of his mind warred between the need to come and the even deeper need to wait for her.
“Max.”
His name. The sweetest sound he had ever heard. Her body shuddered, and her teeth clamped down on the tense muscles of his shoulder once more. She clenched around him, and her orgasm set him off. Something primal took over. He roared and thrust and came with his cock deep inside her as white-hot pleasure shot through him, over and over.
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