Colorado 01 The Gamble (35 page)

His fingers circled my wrist and pulled it
over my head where his other hand captured it. Then he held it
there as his body settled back into me, imprisoning my other arm as
it was around his back, my elbow cocked, my hand still in his
hair.

“What –?” I started.

His hand slipped back inside my jeans and he
muttered, “Not me, baby, you.”

“But –” I began again and stopped when he
resumed his play between my legs and I couldn’t talk anymore, I
could just feel.

“Feels so fuckin’ sweet, Duchess,” he
muttered, his head up, his eyes, always beautiful, were more so now
as desire was darkening them.

“Max –” I panted, my hips jerking under his
hand, my wrist pulling against his hold, my fingers fisting in his
hair. It was building again, fast, too fast and it felt good, too
good, sensational.

“When I fuck you, wanna take my time,” he
told me, his voice hoarse his gaze never shifting from my face.

I closed my eyes and arched my neck as the
glorious pressure intensified.

His finger stopped but then it slid
inside.

“
Yes,
” I whispered, my eyes still closed.

“Christ, honey,” Max growled.

“More,” I begged and he gave it to me,
sliding his finger in and out in the space allowed but it felt
good, tight, close, intimate, his thumb hitting me at my sweet spot
again, circling as he finger fucked me.

His mouth came to mine as I got close.

“I can’t wait to get in there,” he muttered
and my mouth opened under his, the moan gliding out as his tongue
glided in and I came, hard, harder than ever before, and longer, so
much longer, it felt, for tense, wondrous moments, like it would
never end and I didn’t want it to.

And it was far more beautiful than anything
I’d ever had.

Glorious.

Earth-shattering.

I came down slowly, my body feeling like
golden, warm liquid. Sublime. Max kept his hand between my legs,
his fingers slipping through my wetness, exploring, gentle,
becoming intimately familiar in a way I liked. Tender, sweet, just
like Max. His tongue was tracing my lower lip and his hand still
held mine by the wrist over my head.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his were open
too and he was watching me.

“How you feelin’?” he murmured against my
mouth.

I felt
great
. And I felt scared out of my mind. And, for some reason, I
blurted the latter.

“Scared.”

His fingers stopped moving and his hand
cupped me as his brows drew together, his head went away an inch
and his face filled with puzzled humor.

“What?”

Now what had I done?

“Max,” I whispered, “I –”

“Yeah,” he interrupted as understanding came
to him, it wasn’t the correct understanding, not completely, but it
was part of it. “You come harder than that when I fuck you, honey,
you’ll split straight out of your skin.”

“Max –”

He kissed me softly and said, “Christ,
Duchess, that was fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Max –”

“I nearly came just watchin’ you.”

My stomach dipped pleasantly.

“Max,” I breathed but he released my hand,
pulled his other out of my jeans carefully, tugged me to my side
and into his arms and his face went into my neck.

“Drenched by the time I touched you, soaked
right before you came. Gonna love eatin’ you,” he said against my
neck and my stomach dipped again, in a plummet this time.

“Max –”

His head came up and he grinned at me, so
big he looked like he was about to laugh, as his arms got even
tighter. “Baby, you keep callin’ me and I’m right fuckin’
here.”

He looked at me, waiting for me to speak and
I found I didn’t know what to say.

Then I found myself saying, “I’m sorry.”

His head jerked and his fight with his
amusement became far more visible.

Even his voice vibrated with it when he
asked, “What?”

“I… um, you didn’t… I didn’t…” I closed my
eyes tight then opened them and said, “that went really fast.”

“Good thing, considerin’ we don’t have much
time.”

“But –” I started, he kissed me and I
stopped.

“Like that you respond to me that way,
Duchess.”

“It’s that, well, I respond to you –”

He smiled against my mouth, I felt it and I
watched his eyes doing it and both were so marvelous, I stopped
speaking.

“Oh yeah, you respond to me.”

I decided maybe I should stop talking
altogether. I didn’t have my head or my body under my control and I
didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence anyway.

So I dipped my chin, tucked my face into his
throat and slid my arms around his waist.

“How fast can you eat steak?” he asked the
top of my head.

“I’m sorry?” I asked his throat.

“You need to make it record time, darlin’. I
wanna get home in time to have my turn and I’ve noticed when you
get tired you pretty much slip into a coma.”

My head tilted back and I felt my brows come
together as I protested, “I don’t slip into a coma.”

He didn’t answer, he just raised his brows
in return.

“Last night I drank nearly a bottle of wine
by myself,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, and the night before?”

“You were with Mindy.”

“I walked up here to get Mins a t-shirt
about five minutes after you came up and you were dead to the
world.”

“I was not.”

“Babe, you were. I took the ice out of your
hand and you didn’t even flinch.”

I’d wondered where that ice had gone.

I decided my best course of action was to
stop talking about this as it appeared my arguments weren’t holding
much weight.

I pulled my arms from his waist, put my
hands on his chest and gave a shove, saying, “I need to go get
ready.”

His head tilted back to look at the clock
then his arms got tighter, locking mine between our bodies,
rendering them useless.

“We got another twenty minutes,” he muttered
then he lifted his head and his face disappeared in my neck again
as his hand slid over my behind and pulled my hips into his.

My fingers curled into his shirt as I
steeled myself against a reaction and I tipped my head back and
looked at the clock.

Then my hands flattened on his chest and I
cried, “We don’t have twenty minutes! I need to start getting ready
now.”

His tongue slid up my neck to my jaw and
then along it before he responded, “You can hurry.”

“
Max! ‘Makeup’ and ‘hurry’ are two concepts
that do
not
mix well
together.”

His head came up and he looked at me. “Then
wash it all off. You look just as pretty in the morning as you do
right now.”

I felt my eyes grow wide in horror at the
very thought and declared, “I am nowhere near ready to go Colorado
mountain fresh makeup free like all the natural beauties that seem
to populate Gnaw Bone.”

He grinned and repeated on a tease,
“Colorado mountain fresh makeup free?”

I decided not to rise to the bait and
snapped, “Max, let me go.”

I was pretty certain he was still teasing
when he asked, “You sure you don’t want to hang out in bed for
awhile and feel each other up?” However, even so, I paused to
consider this idea as it seemed interesting and more than a little
appealing.

This was a mistake and I knew it when Max
burst out laughing and kissed me quickly before knifing out of bed,
taking me with him when he did.

He set me on my feet and I concentrated on
mentally solidifying my jellied legs as Max did up my jeans with
swift, practiced hands then curled his fingers around the back of
my head, pulling me to him and he kissed my forehead.

Then he turned and walked to the stairs,
calling, “Want me to bring you a glass of wine?”

It was so very annoying when he was
thoughtful.

“Yes,” I called back.

“Duchess,” he called again when I eventually
turned to the bathroom. I stopped and looked to the stairs to see
only his torso and head through the railings. “It might be fancy
for Colorado but still, wear jeans.”

Then he kept winding down the stairs and I
was thankful that he told me. I’d hate to be too dressed up, that
would be awful.

Still, it was also thoughtful, which again
was annoying.

* * * * *

I looked at myself in Max’s bathroom mirror,
took in all that was me and whispered, “What on earth are you
doing, Nina Sheridan?”

My reflection did not reply which was a bit
frustrating since Charlie had also disappeared and I needed
guidance.

I grabbed my empty wineglass from the tiled
counter and walked into the bedroom. My eyes went to the clock and
saw we were closing in on launch time so I hurried to my luggage,
set the glass on the nightstand and dug through it to find my going
out clutch.

I’d functioned on autopilot getting ready
mainly because if I allowed my mind to wander to what happened on
the bed, I didn’t know what I’d do. My options were to beg Max to
call Brody and Mindy and tell them we’d go to The Rooster another
night; find Max and tell him he was good with his hands, his mouth
and other things as well and I was never leaving his house until
the day I died; or put my arms around him and my lips to his ear
and admit I was falling in love with him.

As none of those were healthy ways forward,
autopilot it was.

However autopilot took me straight into a
new debacle. For I’d washed my face and then applied Nina Going Out
makeup which was heavier, smoky and likely seriously overdone for
the Colorado Mountains. I’d also curled my hair, not in curls, but
to give it more waves and body. Then I’d slid in a headband made of
three, thin gold leather braids that I’d used to pull back my hair
softly from my face and I’d separated the braids along my crown to
affect a kind of Grecian Goddess look. I’d slipped on my white mesh
camisole which was long, hugged my jeans at the hips (in fact, it
hugged me everywhere) and had a low dip in the back. Under, it had
a thin, stretchy, white camisole stitched in and on the outside it
was covered entirely by little, gold sequins. Again likely overkill
for the Colorado Mountains but I didn’t have anything that was
fancy but not
that
fancy.
Since I’d brought my strappy, stiletto-heeled, gold sandals to go
with the top on the off chance I needed something dressy, the only
thing I could do to tone down this ensemble was buck the gold in my
hair, on my body and on my feet and I accessorized with nothing but
my new silver earrings and Max’s ring.

I found my envelope clutch which was a soft,
fawn suede, understated and not gold, pulled out my fawn-colored
pashmina that had a hint of sheen but wasn’t overboard, spritzed
with perfume, grabbed my wineglass and headed downstairs.

“Max?” I called when I hit the bottom and
looked around to see he wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

Maybe he got tired of waiting and he’d gone
without me though I doubted this was the case and decided he was
probably doing something Max-ish. Chopping wood. Building a barn.
Saving a child in distress or climbing a tree to rescue a cat.
Stuff like that.

I dropped the clutch and pashmina by my
purse on the dining table, walked to the sink, cleaned the glass,
set it in the dish drainer and walked back to my purse.

I’d put on my lip gloss and was filling my
clutch with what I needed from my purse when I heard Max walk in
from the back of the house.

I turned my head to see he was wearing his
black leather jacket and he’d changed his jeans to a pair that was
less faded but still faded. He had on a heavy black belt, black
boots and a midnight blue shirt that had wine and dark gray stripes
in it. His thick, dark hair was swept back from his face and how he
got it to do that so perfectly (since I’d looked and found no
products in his bathroom) was a mystery.

He looked good enough to eat.

I felt my breasts swell as I watched his
eyes hit me and for some reason, when they did, he suddenly
stopped.

“Ready,” I called with faux breeziness in an
attempt to hide my response to his amazingness and I looked back to
the clutch.

I was flipping it closed when I heard his
boots on the wood floors and then I felt him get close.

My head came up as his arms circled me from
behind, high at my ribs, his hand flattening at the side of my left
breast. Then I felt him bury his face in my neck.

I froze.

“All right, Duchess,” he growled against my
neck, “I won’t bitch about waitin’ for you to get ready if this is
what I get.”

The nipples in my swollen breasts got hard
as his compliment struck deep.

“Max,” I whispered.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, his nose
brushing my ear and that coupled with his sweet talk sent a shiver
along my skin.

My eyes caught on something sparkly and
focused on our reflection in the window. Max, his face still in my
neck, his big body in his dark clothes surrounding me; me, my light
hair, my glittery top, snug and safe in his arms.

I liked what I saw so much, without
thinking, my arms crossed and my hands covered his.

“We’re going to be late,” I said quietly,
not able to tear my eyes from our reflection, not able to stop his
words from making me warm, not able to call up all the reasons why
he was so good, so wonderful, but he was no good for me. I could
just call up all the reasons why he was so good and wonderful and
got stuck on that.

His thumb moved to stroke the side of my
breast and I melted back into him.

“Max, steak. I’m hungry,” I lied. I could
eat, definitely, there was rarely a time when I couldn’t, but I
would rather stay standing there in Max’s arms maybe for the rest
of my life.