Maxwell's Fall

by Tielle St Clare

Max nodded, thinking he might take her up on that. Of course, he’d have to come clean about not being Jackson. But that was for later. First he needed to meet this woman who was expecting Jax.

  “Hi,” she said as she got close. There was no intimacy in her greeting, nothing to indicate she and Jackson were anything more than friends. Her voice was husky and low, a little breathless, the kind of voice that would deepen while she was being fucked.

  The sound reached inside him and triggered an unexpected fantasy—the two of them naked, fucking hard against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her mouth open, moaning his name as he pounded into her. The image shook him and he drew in a long breath, trying to slow his thumping heart, maybe clear his mind. Somehow she didn’t look like the type to want it hard against the wall.

  The bartender. That’s your kind of woman, he reminded himself. Tough, cocky and wouldn’t squawk when he crawled out of bed in the middle of the night.

  But even as the fantasy faded, a delicious, sexual scent wafted toward him—making him hungry and hard in one breath. He tipped his head to the side and inhaled again, searching for the source. Sweet and intriguing. Hmm. It came from the woman before him. His cock twitched and the wolf growled. Great. Getting hard in a public place. Not what he needed. A week without sex and his wolf was getting tense.

  She leaned back and did a quick glance at his body.

  “This is a new look for you.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Max hadn’t planned to impersonate his brother when he’d left the house. And he still had some hope that Jax would show up. They could all laugh and Max could try out the bartender. Though the idea didn’t sound that appealing now. He took another breath, capturing more of the seductive perfume that tantalized his nose.

  More. He licked his lips. More, yes. On his tongue.

  His cock swelled, nudging the fly of his jeans.

  “It looks good.” He jerked, then realized she was talking about his clothes. “Are you ready for this?” She blinked and looked at him, her eyes glittering with emotions he couldn’t classify—excitement, fear, hunger. They all blended together, linked somehow to his brother.

  “Yes,” he said, infusing the single word with confidence.

  Relief eased the back of her neck and her shoulders relaxed.

  “Good. I saw Gideon as I came in. He says they’re already in there. Just go with what we planned and everything will be fine.”

  Max nodded, the cryptic conversation intriguing.

  “Let’s go.” She tipped her head and started to walk away.

  He looked at his drink—untouched.

  “I’ll bring it in to you,” Jackie offered.

  Max shook his head. Gin made his stomach revolt and his head spin. He had a feeling he needed his wits tonight.

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  He tossed money on the bar and followed the woman in gray.

  She waited for him in the hallway leading into the restaurant. Her fingers fluttered along her purse strap. Tell her. Tell her you’re not Jax.

  “Listen—” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We’ve been through this. You’re not talking me out of it.”

  “No, I—”

  “It was your idea in the first place. Now let’s just do it.” She hesitated, her gray eyes drilling into his, a strange mix of determination and uncertainty.

  “Just one more thing,” she said. She rolled her shoulders back as if bracing herself for an unpleasant task. The movement separated the edges of her jacket and he could almost, almost see the shape of her breasts. The sight distracted him enough that he didn’t notice that she’d stepped close. Very close.

  She wrapped her fingers around the front of his shirt and pulled, dragging him down, drawing her up until their lips were inches apart. She hesitated then closed that short distance, pressing her mouth to his. The awkward connection registered in the corner of his brain moments before it short-circuited.

  A faint voice he recognized as his conscience warned that she thought he was Jax, but when he moved to speak, his lips brushed hers and the silk of her skin was too tempting to not sample again. He rubbed his mouth across hers, the seductive scent of her skin sweeter and stronger close up. Needing a taste, he opened his lips, just a little.

  He almost groaned when she did the same.

  The crisp clean flavor—like she’d just eaten an apple—clouded his already confused brain, making him want more. He licked her upper lip, tempting, teasing her into inviting him inside. Her eyes blinked and she looked up, the surprise forgotten as she opened her lips. Unable to resist the pure temptation, he drove his tongue into her mouth and growled, the delicious taste swelling inside him. Perfect. Sweet but not too much. A hint of spice to make it interesting.

  His cock strained against his jeans, the zipper digging into his skin. Damn he couldn’t remember when he’d been this hard, so ready to fuck so fast.

  He twirled his tongue around hers, feeling her tension then the sweet power of her submission. The wolf came alive, howling and filling his head with the need for more.

  She was delicious, addictive.

  Heat flared between them. She moaned and moved closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. He grabbed her arms and turned placing her back against the wall and moving closer to cage her with his body. The fantasy from moments ago reverberated in his brain. She tipped her head back and looked up at him, her lips open, her eyes flashing with hunger. Why had he ever thought she wouldn’t be the type to fuck against the wall? Naked. They needed to be naked.

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  He slid his hand down her back and squeezed her ass, loving the way her flesh curved beneath his hand, urging her against his body, easing her onto his cock even as he pressed forward.

  She gripped the back of his neck and drew him back to her, her lips opening, offering.

  That’s it, honey. He covered her mouth with his, tasting her. Hot slick pussy juice flooded her cunt. He could sense it, almost taste it. The wolf in his head growled his approval, wanting that scent on his body, his mouth, branded on his soul.

  He slid his hands up her sides but the thick jacket blocked the access to her skin. He snarled, knowing her nipples were getting hard, wanting those tight peaks in his mouth, sucking while he fucked her. He groaned and she took the sound into her, accepting it with hungry surprise.

  A voice—he supposed it was his conscience—reminded him that she thought he was Jax, but fuck, he couldn’t pull away. Not yet. He pressed his hips forward, the wall and his hand on her ass holding her in place as he pulsed against her, gentle taps to her pussy, a slow grind. Fuck, he needed to be inside her. She dragged her mouth away, gasping for breath. The wolf growled but before the sound had the chance to make it to the surface, she smiled—a wicked twinkle sparking in her eyes.

  The light ignited his dick. Damn. The prim, serious woman had disappeared and pure hunger stared back at him.

  He clamped his hands on her ass and held her in place as he ground against her, harder, longer, fighting their clothing to make sure she felt him. Her eyes widened and a delicate hitch sounded from the back of her throat.

  “That’s it,” he whispered, leaning down and speaking against her mouth. “I’m going to be right there, fucking you, riding you hard.”

  She groaned and her eyelids fluttered shut as he repeated the motion. She tipped her head back, baring her throat, offering it to him. His gums tingled, warning that his teeth were ready to drop, to plunge into that soft skin and mark her.

  He licked his lips, tasting her, ready to—

  Instinct alerted him to the newcomer moments before he heard the sound—a throat clearing, a warning that they weren’t alone. Fury and dominance surged through chest, clearing out the sex and leaving behind the overwhelming desire to protect his mate. He spun around and put her behind him, placing his body between his mate and the danger.

  Wait, what the hell? His mate?

 
The word finally connected in his brain. He didn’t have time or focus to swear at the wolf. Max’s body, his instincts demanded he guard the woman.

  His lips twitched with the urge to snarl, warning other predators away from his prize. The tall man at the end of the hall didn’t seem threatened by Max’s display. His mouth spread wide with a smile.

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  “Sorry to interrupt—because it looks like more fun than I’ve had in months—” He winked. “But your guests are waiting and my guests don’t expect a show with dinner.”

  His words took a moment to penetrate as reality returned. Max looked down, his body was in full battle mode, the woman—fuck he didn’t even know her name—

  crushed behind him. He ground his teeth together and straightened, signaling to his wolf to back off. There was no threat. This guy seemed to know either Jackson or the woman. Maybe both.

  “Sorry about that, Gideon.” She apologized as she slid out from behind him smoothing her hand across her hair, making sure that the tight strands were still in place. In the dim light he couldn’t see her blushing but the embarrassment in her voice told him she was. She pushed her shoulders back and started forward.

  If it hadn’t been for the scent of her pussy, warm and wet—damn, he’d bet her panties were soaked—Max thought he might have imagined the kiss and grope. He knew better. She was aroused, her pussy slick and ready for his cock.

  Fuck.

  Hard like he’d never been before, ready to bend her over the nearest flat surface and pound his cock into her…and she thought she’d been kissing Jackson.

  Perfect.

  Following the woman, he reached the end of the hall. Gideon hadn’t moved.

  Laughter and a touch of confusion glowed in the man’s eyes. Max couldn’t help but size up the other male. It was instinct—human and animal. An inch or so taller than Max’s six-foot-two-inch frame, Gideon’s body was long and lean. Like a swimmer or a runner.

  In a battle of sheer strength Max was pretty sure he could take him but if it involved speed, he had a feeling Gideon would take him down.

  Dark eyes stared at him, amusement radiating from the man’s gaze.

  “That was a pretty hot display.” He glanced back over his shoulder then dropped his voice. “I didn’t expect that kind of heat between you and Mandy.”

  Max straightened his spine. “Why not?” he demanded, feeling the compulsion to protect his twin.

  Gideon chuckled. “Untwist your knickers.” He patted Max on the chest, the touch familiar, almost a caress. “If it’s working, I’m thrilled for you.”

  The words dripped with insincerity and laughter.

  He was mocking Max. Or Jackson, really. And Max hated the thought that anyone would make fun of his brother.

  “I’ll sleep better knowing we have your approval,” he snapped. “Our table?” The laughter disappeared from Gideon’s stare.

  “You are in a mood.” He flipped his head around like a pissed off princess and strolled away, leading Max and Mandy—at least he had her name now—to their table.

  Two men already occupied it. They stood when Max and Mandy approached. One of the men smiled and gave Mandy a hug. She grunted as she fell against him. The forced 14

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  laughter as she pushed him away sent Max’s nerves on alert. Despite the familiarity, she didn’t like that man touching her. And neither did Max.

  Eyes and lips tight, she stepped back and pulled Max forward. “Jackson, this is Sean Baldino, Brian Mickelson. Uncle Sean, this is Jackson, my fiancé.”

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  Tielle St. Clare

  Chapter Two

  Mandy felt Jackson’s hand—the one resting so protectively on her back—flinch. She took a deep breath and silently begged him not to blow it. But when she glanced at his face to make sure his panic wasn’t showing, she calmed. He looked a little irritated but didn’t look ready to run for the door. Maybe it was just the natural masculine reaction of hearing the word “fiancé” in connection with his own name. He still wasn’t used to it but he’d agreed. Finally.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Jackson along.” She looked at Sean and Brian, knowing it would now be impolite for them to say that they did. She didn’t want to do this by herself. She needed Jackson by her side. It had been his idea in the first place. Of course, that had been after a few drinks and he’d only suggested she play Nancy Drew to make her feel better.

  “Since we’re engaged…” She lifted her chin and stared down the man her father had considered his best friend. “I wouldn’t want to make any decision without consulting him.” Sean’s eyes tightened at the edges but he nodded.

  “You’re an accountant too?” Sean asked.

  “Yes.”

  The clipped one word answer vibrated with aggression and Mandy knew she had to take control of the conversation. Keep things smooth and easy. She wasn’t here to antagonize these guys.

  “He’s brilliant.” She leaned in, grinned and actually fluttered her eyelashes, trying to ease the tension that hummed between the three men. “Phenomenal with numbers.”

  That was no lie. Jackson could calculate, twist and turn numbers. It amazed even her. It was the thing that had first drawn her to him.

  She turned and looked up at Jackson. Instead of giving her a shy smile to thank her, he nodded, just once.

  “Maybe we should sit,” he said, the suggestion more like a command. The others reacted to it as well, taking their seats.

  He guided her into her chair, his body shielding her as if he protected her, a threat to anyone who came near. Her lips pulled up into a wide uncontrolled smile. Right.

  This was Jackson, accountant, gentleman and all-around good guy. Not exactly a warrior.

  But there was something different about him tonight. A dangerous energy surrounded him. The clothes, the glint in his eye and that kiss. She mentally fanned her face. Where had that come from? She hadn’t known he had anything like that in him. Of 16

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  course, she’d been a bit more aggressive than normal as well, the adrenaline probably.

  It wasn’t every day she propositioned criminals.

  They all shifted in their chairs, unconscious adjustments while each decided who would begin.

  “Are you the assholes who searched my house?” Jackson asked, his gaze challenging as he stared across the table.

  “Jackson,” she gasped, then the words became clear in her head. “What? Someone searched your house?” She turned Sean and Brian and tried to force a smile. “You wouldn’t search his house, would you?” She’d never even considered that. These guys were white-collar criminals, not gun-toting thugs. At least that’s what she’d assumed.

  Her heart did a little leap in her chest. This could be a bad idea. She wasn’t Nancy Drew and the police certainly weren’t going to help her.

  Sean looked at Brian as if to get his approval for speaking then shook his head.

  “Why would we search your boyfriend’s house?”

  She might have believed him. Except for the twitch above his eyebrow and Father’s tales of late-night poker games. Whenever Sean bluffed, his left eyebrow twitched.

  She opened her mouth to call him on it but Jackson’s hand on her leg stopped her.

  He squeezed, just above her knee, just hard enough to get her attention and keep her quiet.

  She got the message and pushed her shoulders back. “Well, that’s horrible.” She glanced at Jackson. “Did you call the police?”

  He shook his head. “No. I can handle it.”

  The threat rumbled beneath his words. Sean swallowed as if trying to clear a lump from his throat. A tiny spark of satisfaction swirled through her chest. Sean was actually frightened by Jackson. Good.

  Feeling more in control, she slipped her hand beneath the tablecloth and patted his thigh, a light touch, a thank you and a warning to behave that was more teasing than serious. His
eyes met hers. He didn’t smile—but she could see the laughter flickering his gaze. She fought the urge to grin, knowing this was serious business. She rubbed his leg again and the light in his eyes changed. For a moment they almost seemed to glow red. A shiver raced across her neck making the little hairs stand up. Tension zipped around the table, encompassing all four of them.

  This was not going as she’d planned. She took another slow breath, hoping her nerves didn’t show.

  The heat under her hand helped calm her. Her fingers rested above his knee, her mind processing the sensation beneath her fingertips. Solid muscle, rock hard, strong.

  Wow, she knew Jackson worked out but this was more than just gym-muscles. Her palm tingled with the desire to slide the full length of his thigh, and higher, between his legs.

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  Her mind, desperate for any distraction from the stress, created a wicked fantasy—

  her kneeling before Jackson, those rock-hard thighs spread just enough, her hands behind her back, lips open, wrapped around his cock. Heat rushed through her pussy and the strange tingling in her hands shifted locations, sinking deep into her sex. This was so strange. She’d had sexual thoughts about Jackson before but never those dark submissive fantasies she hid deep inside.

  Jackson shifted in his chair, turning his body toward hers. A subtle challenge flashed in his eyes and for one desperate moment she feared he could read her mind.

  She shuddered at the thought of anyone knowing those wicked dreams.

  Now is really not a good time to think about sex. Save it for later. When you’re alone. With your toys. The mental reprimand helped draw her attention back. These were bad guys and she had to stay focused. She took a shallow breath and willed the desire away.

  The table was silent and she realized they were waiting for her. She had called this meeting after all. But how did one proposition a criminal? She was too new at this and the first thing that popped into her head was food.

  At least it replaced the thoughts of sex.

  “Would you like something to eat?” Food relaxed people, didn’t it? Or maybe it was just her and that’s how she ended up carrying an extra fifteen pounds.