The feel of him, so big, so glorious, surging into me, filling me, connecting me to him, made me break our kiss as my neck arched reflexively and I committed that moment to memory, burned it into my brain, knowing I’d never forget it as long as I lived.

My other hand went into his jeans, both my legs bent at the knees to give him deeper purchase and I pressed them against his sides as Max pulled out and rammed back in.

“That’s beautiful,” I whispered the God’s honest truth.

“You’re absolutely fuckin’ right,” Max muttered his agreement, pulled out so I could only feel the tip and then slammed back in.

My fingers flexed, my legs squeezed and my mouth begged, “More, darling.”

He gave me more, he gave me his mouth, his tongue, his right forearm in the bed beside me, his left hand fisted in my hair and he thrust into me harder, faster.

It was back, it was coming, I was coming and he’d been right the day before, it was going to be so big, I was going to split straight out of my skin.

“Max –” I panted, my hips rocking with his drives.

“I can feel it, Jesus, Nina, you’re ready,” Max groaned. “Come for me, baby.”

“Okay,” I breathed and did what I was told.

I closed my eyes and my head rolled back, my hips reared up, my hands went from his behind to become my arms wrapping him tight and I gasped as it tore through me, hard, long and soul destroyingly beautiful.

Max’s face was in my neck and I felt his growled release against my skin half a second after I felt him drive in deep and stay planted there.

After, for awhile neither of us moved, Max stayed buried deep, his face in my neck and my arms stayed wrapped around him, my thighs pressed to his sides.

Finally, Max rolled to his back, his arms coming around me as he settled me, straddling him and still connected, on top.

“Yeah,” he murmured against my neck as his hand drifted along the skin of my back, “it’s fair to say we got chemistry.”

I closed my eyes tight and pressed my forehead into the pillow because the case for that was so strong there was no use arguing against it.

One of his arms curled tight around me as his other hand slid down and cupped my bottom.

“How’s your leg, Duchess?” he asked softly.

“It’s okay,” I told the pillow.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

God, he was so wonderful.

I shook my head.

His voice was even softer when he asked, “How’s that shield?”

Before I could stop myself, I whispered, “Cracked.”

“Finally,” he muttered both his arm and hand giving me a squeeze.

I sighed.

He rolled again, disconnecting us and laying me on my side. My knees came up as I curled into myself, Max’s hand slid my hair from my neck and he kissed me there.

“Don’t move, be right back,” he ordered then he was gone.

I stared at his pillow thinking I just had that, had him, and I wanted it again.

And again.

For eternity.

In the grips of a sudden, irrational panic, I whirled around and jumped off my side of the bed, thinking that my rummaged through suitcase and my pajama bottoms would take too long, I ran to the dresser. I opened and closed the top drawer then in the one down I found what I wanted. I yanked out one of Max’s t-shirts and tugged it on. I was pulling up my panties, my mind blank, no thoughts in my head, none at all, no idea what I was even doing when Max came back in, his hair sexily disheveled from my hands, still in his jeans but they were only partially buttoned.

My mouth went dry. His brows snapped together.

“You moved,” he informed me of the obvious.

“Yes.”

“You dressed,” he went on.

“Um…”

I stopped mumbling when Max started stalking.

I took one look at his big, tall, powerful body in stalk mode and I retreated. In about a step, I hit the dresser with my bad leg.

“Ouch,” I said but I barely got out that one syllable when I was up in the air and then I was down on the bed and Max was on top of me.

I looked into his clear, gray determined eyes.

“Max –”

“I got in,” he declared and he could say that again.

“Max –”

“I’m in, Duchess, you think for a second I’m gonna let you push me out?”

“Um…”

“I’m not.”

“Max –”

His hands started roaming and he stated, “No fuckin’ way.”

I forgot what we were talking about because his hands were up the shirt.

Then I asked, “What are you doing?”

“That was fast.”

“Sorry?”

“Too fast.”

“Um…”

I stopped muttering when his mouth came to my neck. “This time, gonna fuck you slow.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed out loud.

His head came up and he was smiling.

Then he said, “Yeah.”

Then he kissed me. After that, he fucked me slow.

And it was even better.

***

We were in Max’s hot sauna that Max had turned on after round one and Max took me to after round two.

It wasn’t big, just big enough for two. Max had a towel around his hips and he was sitting on the little, wooden bench. I had a towel wrapped around my body and I was on my back on the bench, my knees bent nearly to my chest with my feet against the wooden wall, my head on Max’s firm, towel-covered thigh. He was using his fingers to sift through my hair, arranging it across his lap.

Heaven.

I had my eyes closed and my mind was wandering to nowhere, nothing. It wasn’t filled with junk and garbage like it normally was. It was just drifting along peacefully. And my body was sated and relaxed, so deeply, I didn’t think relaxation could be that deep.

“What’s in your head, Duchess?”

“You have a strong tongue,” I blurted the first thing that entered my blank mind then my eyes popped open and I saw him looking down at me, his brows raised and his mouth twitching.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I whispered and turned my head to the side so my cheek was to his thigh and I hoped the hot sauna camouflaged the heat in my face.

His finger touched the hinge of my jaw and went down, along my neck to my collarbone.

“Nina –” he called and I started talking, scared to death of what he might say, I had to stop him saying anything at all.

“I’m not sure sweating with a man in a sauna is a good thing to do.”

“Why?”

“Sweat is unattractive,” I told the wall.

“It wasn’t when you broke one in my bed ten minutes ago.”

He would mention that.

“Well –”

“Baby, look at me,” he demanded gently as his fingers curled around my neck.

I closed my eyes then I turned my head on his thigh to look up at him. His face was as gentle as his voice and I tensed.

“You’re right, we’ve only known each other a week,” he said, his thumb stroking my jaw and my tense body went taut, all sated relaxation, garbage-free mind gone.

I knew it. I just knew it.

Wonder Max wasn’t Wonder Max at all.

He had me naked(ish) in his sauna after having sex with me twice and he was done with me.

I just knew it.

“Yes, only a week,” I agreed, pulling my face from his hand, lifting up and twisting so I was seated on the bench.

That was as far as I got before I was dragged across his lap. My eyes met his and I opened my mouth to speak but he got there before me.

“I wasn’t done,” he told me.

“What?” I asked briskly, his brows drew together over narrowed eyes and he examined my face.

“You pissed?”

“No,” I lied.

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

His eyes roamed my face and his arms tightened around me. “Jesus, Nina, how in God’s name can you be pissed?”

“I’m not,” I lied again.

“Babe, you are.”

“Let me go, it’s hot in here, hotter when we’re touching.”

“Nina –”

I pushed against his chest. “Max, let me go.”

His tight arms gave me a shake and he clipped, “Nina.”

I calmed and tried to look at him without glaring at him.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“You had something to say?” I prompted.

“Yeah,” he bit off. “I was gonna say that I know we’ve only known each other a week and I know you’re scared outta your fuckin’ skull because I got you after all those assholes chewed you up but what happened today and what happened tonight even you can’t ignore.”

I managed to stare at him without glaring at him mainly because my mouth had dropped open and my mind had gone blank.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“We’re connected now.”

It was breathy this time when I repeated, “What?”

“Very connected.”

“Max –”

“You think you can walk outta Mindy’s life, Brody’s life, my life after what happened today, what happened between us tonight –”

I broke in, saying, “I thought you were going to send me away.”

His head jerked and it was his turn to ask, “What?”

“I thought you were done with me.”

Max stared at me a second and I watched in budding, yet weirdly rapt terror as a dark, ominous shadow drifted over his face.

“I’m not those fuckin’ guys,” he growled so low I barely heard him.

My stomach pitched and I whispered, “Max –”

“Don’t ever fuckin’ mistake me for one of those fuckin’ guys.”

“I –”

“I don’t know all they did, I just know what it did to you and, Nina, I’m not one of those fuckin’ guys.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“And I cannot fuckin’ believe, after I took care of you when you were sick, after this week, after today, after tonight, you’d fuckin’ think that of me.”

Even in the face of his obvious anger, I felt steel sheath my spine and I told him, “You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“It always starts good.”

“Yeah?”

“Then it goes bad.”

“And?”

“Sometimes very bad.”

“You think I’m gonna cheat on you, lie to you, beat you?”

“I don’t know.”

That shadow darkened and his eyes again narrowed just as his arms grew tight.

“You don’t know?” he asked.

“I didn’t know with them either.”

“Jesus, Nina, I give you any indication I’d fuckin’ do that to you, to anyone?”

Actually, he hadn’t.

Of course, there was the small matter of his dead wife that he still hadn’t shared with me. Along with a lot of his life. Whereas I’d shared a good deal of mine. Or it had walked in his front door, spilled out in phone conversations he was privy to or came out when I was in a snit.

To explain this concept, I told him, “I don’t even know how old you are.”

“Yeah, that’s because you haven’t fuckin’ asked. I don’t know how old you are either but I’ve actually fuckin’ asked.”

Unfortunately, I had to admit, he had me there.

“What’s your point?” he asked when I fell silent.

“Sorry?”

“What’s my age got to do with it?”

“I’m just pointing out we barely know each other and, further, you’re not exactly forthcoming.”

“Not hidin’ anything, Duchess, unlike you who’s secretive as hell and when you aren’t, you’re guarded.”

I felt my own eyes narrow and I snapped, “I am not,” even though I knew I kind of was.

“Yeah, how old are you?”

“Thirty-six,” I replied immediately and his face suddenly cleared.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m thirty-six years old.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, that shadow drifting back.

“What?”

“You’re not thirty-six.”

I stared at him for a second speechless, in shock not only at his words but the firm, knowing way he said them.

“I am,” I told him.

“You think that’ll turn me off, you tellin’ me you’re thirty-six?”

What did he mean by that?

“I am thirty-six!” I snapped somewhat loudly.

He scowled at me, his eyes moving over my face as he did it then he asked, “Seriously?”

“Yes!” I snapped again and then pushed at his chest to get away.

His arms got tighter. “Nina.”

I stopped pushing and glared at him. “Obviously, since my age is such a turn off, right about now I should be leaving.”

His arms got even tighter but his head tipped back, his eyes rolled up and he looked at the ceiling of the sauna.

“Grant me patience,” he muttered his prayer to the ceiling and I started pushing again so he looked back at me. “Stop pushin’, Duchess.”