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Dana wanted him.
The knowledge rocked him, shocked him. When and how had that happened? Before she’d returned his kiss, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him those kinds of signals. In fact, if anything, she’d mothered him, pampered him. Spoiled him, he admitted.
He reached past her to slide open the door. Cooled air rushed out of the house and over his skin, but did nothing to cool his desire. Once they’d crossed the threshold—literally, figuratively—there would be no going back. His feet sank into the carpet. He closed the door behind him, sealing them into the silent house.
The room smelled like her, looked like her. The other her. This woman he didn’t know. She’d added candles and framed photographs of her family and potted plants to the room.
Who was this other woman? he asked himself not for the first time.
He caught her face in his hands and stroked her smooth skin and then threaded his fingers through her thick, silky hair. Her head tilted back, but he ignored the silent invitation. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then he transferred his hands to her hips and drew circles over her hipbones with his thumbs. She shivered and gasped. The sound hit him low and hard.
Easing his hands upward, he outlined her narrow waist and the bottom edge of her rib cage, savoring her warm, satiny skin. Her lids fluttered closed. He bent to kiss one, then the other. Her thick lashes tickled his chin, and her back arched, pressing her pelvis into his. Need stabbed him. He sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth.
Dipping his head, he sipped from the shadowy warmth beneath her ear. She angled her head to give him better access. This time he didn’t refuse. The hot press of her hands at his waist jolted him. The unhurried caress of her soft hands up and down his sides urged him to rush, to push her onto her bed and bury himself inside her. He wanted her hard and fast. For that reason he kept a tightfisted grip on his control.
Mindless passion was for college kids. Smart passion, delayed satisfaction brought greater rewards. And purpose. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, but that reason was a little hazy when she tasted so good on his lips and on his tongue.
Nuzzling the fragrant spot behind her earlobe made her shudder in his arms. Her nails raked his back and ripped an unexpected groan from deep in his chest. He drew back, putting space between him and fighting the temptation to say to hell with slow and easy.
He traced the V-neck of her top with one finger, his eyes focusing on the nipples beading beneath the thin fabric. He wanted those tight buds in his mouth, needed to roll them around on his tongue and taste her. Instead he circled the band of black around her ribcage and drew a line down the center of her belly. He repeated the circle around her navel and then the top of her bikini bottom.
She shifted impatiently, her smooth, warm thighs sliding against each other. “Max.”
The half cry, half whimper got to him. He’d bet his Lamborghini she’d sound like that when he slid inside her the first time. And that couldn’t happen soon enough. His patience evaporated. He reached for the knot at her nape and fumbled it free. The ties dropped and the fabric slid downward with excruciating slowness before finally baring her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight of the dusky centers.
Dana reached one arm behind her back and loosened the other tie. The top floated to the floor. He flexed his fingers in anticipation and then cupped her warm, soft flesh in his palms and buffed her nipples with his thumbs. Her breath hitched. She bit her lip. He bent his head and took a puckered tip into his mouth.
Her taste was like nothing he’d experienced before. He savored her unique flavor and her scent filled his nostrils. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as she arched into him, her free breast branding his bicep. But he wasn’t trying to escape. Not until he’d had his fill of her and cured this damned sudden and irrational obsession that had hit him like a bad case of the flu.
He shifted his mouth to the neglected soft globe and used the moisture he’d left behind to lubricate his massaging fingers on the first. Dana’s fingers tightened, her nails scraping an arousing pattern on his scalp. He wanted more.
“Mmm. That feels good,” she whispered brokenly.
Planting one knee on the floor, he hooked her bikini bottom with his thumbs and yanked it down her legs. She gripped his shoulders as she stepped out of her swimsuit, her touch hot and firm on his skin. He wanted her hands all over him, the sooner, the better.
Letting her nipple slide from his mouth, he looked up at her, at her red lips and heavy-lidded eyes, at the curve of her damp nipples, her small waist. But it was the tiny cluster of dark curls that beckoned him. He needed to taste her. Her golden skin, her sweet center, the essence of her arousal. But not yet. Not when his hunger was sharp enough to cut him.
He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, laved his way down her belly, toward the golden heart. He circled the jewelry with his tongue and she hiccupped a series of short fast breaths. As he strung kisses along her bikini line he used his hands to caress from her hips down the outside of her legs to her feet.
He curled his fingers around her ankles, grasped the delicate joints and urged her legs apart, widening her stance for balance because he intended to rock her world.
“Max?” she breathed.
He worked his hands upward on the insides of her legs this time, his palms coasting over warm, smooth soft skin. She was so damned touchable. The scent of her excitement grew stronger as he neared his target and his own desire pounded through his veins, urgent and unrelenting. He forced himself to take it slow when what he wanted to do was shoot to his feet and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust.
He reached the back of her knees. She shivered at the scrape of his fingernails along the sensitive crease. He did it again with the same results. She clutched his hair and then released, clutched and released. Her short nails lightly outlined his ears, sending stimulating ripples cresting through him.
He finally reached her thighs and massaged their sleekly muscled length, working his way from her tensed quadriceps and hamstrings to her softer, warmer inner thighs. He traced her panty line with his thumbnails and her knees quaked. Encouraged, he leaned forward and traced the same path with his tongue, simultaneously finding her center with his fingers. She was hot, wet and ready for him. Her hands cupped his head holding him close.
Her fragrance filled his lungs and surged straight to his groin. The selfish urge to flip her on her back on the bed and ride her hard crossed his mind. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and laved the swollen flesh waiting for him, circling it, tasting it, exploring it until he found the spot that made her cry out and curl her toes into the carpet.
Her taste filled him with a desperate, ravenous hunger for more. More. More. His pulse hammered in his head, almost drowning out the sexy-as-hell sounds coming from Dana’s mouth.
“It’s too much. I can’t.” Her nails dug into his scalp. She tried to pull away.
He clamped his hands on her buttocks and intensified his oral caress. Her legs shook. She tasted so damned good, smelled so good, felt so good. He sucked her into his mouth and pumped his fingers deep inside her. Even without her moan to clue him in, he registered the exact second she quit fighting and went over the edge. Her cries filled the air and her internal muscles clenched his fingers.
He rode the wave with her, savoring each squeeze, each whimper, each spasm. And when her knees buckled, he held her upright. He kissed the pale skin between her curls and the twinkling heart and looked up at her. Her pleasure was a sight to behold. Dusky peach painted her cheeks and her lips were red and swollen from her biting them.
Her eyes slowly opened halfway and found his. The hand she had gripping his shoulder slid up the side of his neck, under his jaw and then she lifted his chin. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” And it had been. He rose and kissed her hard on the mouth.
Reality check. He’d been so eager to lose himself inside her he’d almost forgotten a critical component. “I’ve barely started. But we need a condom.”
Her lashes fluttered and she lowered her chin. “I have some.”
She bit her lip as if embarrassed by the confession, and then walked across the room. He enjoyed watching her move, and the tight curve of her bottom made him grit his teeth. Delicious.
Dana was a beautiful woman. How could he have been so blind?
She withdrew a plastic packet from her purse and turned. Despite the blush on her cheeks, there was a sexual sparkle in her eyes that grabbed him by the hormones and demanded his attention. But there was also a contradictory reticence lurking in the way her gaze bounced from his and the way she chewed her bottom lip. Her tight body language and a slight hesitation snagged his curiosity. He didn’t know what to make of this from his confident executive assistant who handled conniption-fit-throwing actors and on-set disasters without breaking a sweat.
He took the package from her, pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. Her response started out tentative but quickly became so wild and uninhibited she pushed him close to the edge of control. He nipped her bottom lip. She bit him right back—not hard, just playful. Sexy. Enticing as hell. Hunger bolted through him like lightning.
He stroked her smooth back, her soft bottom, and she mimicked his every move, squeezing where he squeezed, scratching where he scratched. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his erection for one brief moment before bringing his hand between them to find her center. She whimpered into his mouth as he thumbed her still swollen flesh.
She yanked her mouth free. “Max, I want you.”
“And you’re going to have me as soon as you do one more thing for me.”
“What?” Her body tensed in his arms and her nails dug into his shoulders. He quickened his caress. Orgasm overtook her.
“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispered against her temple once she stopped shuddering.
Her lips and teeth found his shoulder, surprising him with a gentle love bite and punching him with another arousing jolt. She impatiently shoved his swim trunks down his legs and wrapped her fingers around his length. She stroked him long and slow from base to tip and back again.
His teeth clamped shut on a furnace blast of desire. It slammed him like a runaway trolley, winding him, making his head spin. He struggled to right himself and then kicked aside his trunks and tore the condom open with his teeth. She tried to take it from him, but he was so triggered he didn’t dare let her. He grabbed her hand and redirected it to less dangerous territory—his waist. Only that ended up being more hazardous than he’d anticipated as her nails traced havoc-wreaking patterns on his skin with devastating results.
He rolled on the latex with an unsteady hand, ripped back the comforter and backed her onto the mattress. She lay down and he caressed her long, luscious legs apart. He wanted to feast on her, to nibble from toes to earlobes, lingering and making her cry out again and again. He wanted that too much.
How could he want Dana this way when he’d never had a sexual thought about her before that kiss? He brushed aside the question and positioned himself. He intended to take it slow, to control his passion and keep his head the way he always did, but then she wrapped a hand around his nape, pulling him down for a kiss, and simultaneously hooked a leg behind his butt and pressed him forward. Slow and rational ceased to be an option.
He sank deep into her mouth and into the hot, slick glove of her body simultaneously. Hunger grabbed him by the groin and the throat, and a groan of pleasure barreled its way out of his chest. Instinct took over. He couldn’t slow the thrust of his tongue or his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, engaging in a mental and physical tug of war for control. Reining himself in was no longer a sure thing. It was a damned risky proposition.
He fought through the animalistic drive riding him and tried to focus on her pleasure. This was about her, about keeping her from Lewis’s bed. But damned if he gave a flip about his motives at the moment.
He swiveled his hips against her. She broke the kiss. “That f-feels g-good.”
Her breathy, broken words drove him to repeat the maneuver again and again until her back bowed and her nails raked his back, his thighs, his chest. She nipped his shoulder—another gentle love bite—and that was all it took. He crossed the line, the point of no return. He pounded into her. Deeper, harder, faster. Again. Again. Her gasps and cries fueled him.
When he felt her tense, heard her breath catch, he did the same. Fighting his way back from the brink became a lost cause. Orgasm ripped through her, making her body squeeze his and forcing the air from her lungs in a sexy groan. And he lost it. His own release battered him over and over until he was spent. His lungs burned. His arm muscles quivered and then collapsed. He landed on her. It took seconds to regain his strength and lift himself from the warm, damp, soft cushion of her body. Not that he wanted to leave. And that worried him.
Her eyes remained closed, her lashes a dark fan on her flushed cheeks. But it was the smile curving her lips that nailed him right in the chest. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.
What the…?
His arms snapped straight and then he rolled off her and landed on the bed. The bed that smelled like Dana. Like Dana and hot sex.
Why had he kissed her that way? He didn’t do tender gestures. Not anymore. Sex was sex. Basic. Primal. Satisfaction of a need. And in this case, a way to protect his assets. No emotion required or desired.
But damn, he wanted to ask her about that smile. If it meant what he thought it did—that this was more than just physical release for her—then he needed to warn her. Temporary was his MO. His only MO. He would never marry again.
But if he warned her off and she got huffy, then his honesty could cause problems. One, she might quit. Two, she might pout and refuse to speak to him—the way Karen sometimes had. Three, anger might drive her back to Lewis. None of those options would help him get Honor completed on time.
So he’d have to suck it up and hope like hell she didn’t get emotionally attached. Because happily ever after might make for a great film, but it had no place in his life.
Six
Dana couldn’t stop smiling.
She lay flat on her back, eyes closed, fighting the urge to grin like a fool. Max lay beside her. She could hear his rapid breathing, feel his body heat and smell him. She inhaled deeply. Correction, she could smell them and the intoxicating aroma of their lovemaking. The urge to grin grew stronger.
Making love with him had exceeded her fantasies. And she couldn’t ask for more. She was so happy they’d finally taken this step—even if she didn’t know what had precipitated it.
The mattress shifted. She forced her heavy eyelids open in time to see Max leaving the bed. She soaked up the sight of his broad shoulders, tight butt, and long, muscled legs as he bent to scoop up his swim trunks from the floor. Yummy.
He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom without looking back. Something felt a little off. She chalked it up to the awkwardness of the first time with a new partner. Not that she had a whole lot of experience with that circumstance. And he did have the condom to deal with.
Rolling out of bed, she gathered her suit and shifted on her feet as she tried to figure out what to do next. Put the suit back on? Get dressed? Climb back in bed? She still hadn’t made up her mind when Max returned dressed in his trunks.
His gaze rolled over her, lingering on her breasts, which tightened in response to his widening pupils and intense expression. His gaze coasted past her waist and hips to her legs and then slowly returned. His eyes stalled briefly on her navel ring before gliding up until they locked with hers once more. She saw suppressed passion but also caution in his eyes.
Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her swimsuit. A sudden and unexpected wave of insecurity made her want to cover up. He dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. How did she measure up? She certainly wasn’t as skinny as his usual type. And she wasn’t blonde.
“I’m going to take a quick swim and have lunch before getting back to work. Shall I cook enough for two?”
She blinked in surprise. He’d taken her to restaurants for working lunches, but he’d never prepared anything for her or even offered to fetch anything for her from the Hudson Pictures canteen. And while all he’d be doing was heating up something the caterer had left, that he’d offer to include her now made her feel all warm and fuzzy and cherished.
“I could make lunch.” She’d rather stay here and cuddle with him. But they really didn’t have time for that.
“I can handle it. You take a shower or…whatever it is women do after…sex.”
Sex. She’d rather he called it making love. But he was a guy. A commitment-phobic guy. “Maybe I, um, could join you in the pool and then we could make the meal together.”
“I’m going to swim laps.” He turned on his heel and exited through her patio door.
Confused, Dana stared after him. Had that been a statement or a dismissal? Did Max regret what had just happened?
How could he regret what had been one of the best moments of her life?
And where did they go from here? Because for her, everything had changed. She no longer wanted to get away from Max, and she no longer wanted to win the bet. She wanted to win his heart.
Only the hum of the electronic equipment disturbed the silence of the room.
Dana sat at her desk in Max’s home office and tried to focus on work, but her mind kept straying. She wasn’t dumb enough to delude herself that Max was in love with her. Yet. His cool demeanor throughout lunch had proven that. There had been no tender, reminiscent smiles, no wicked glances promising more lovemaking to come later.
But he did desire her. She knew good acting when she saw it, and Max hadn’t been faking his passion earlier.
So why the oppressive silence now?
Max’s office chair squeaked as he twisted to face her. Her heart skipped in anticipation of what he’d say.
“How is the capturing coming?”
Work. She’d expected something…personal. She tried to mask her disappointment. “It’s going well. I should be finished in a couple of days.”
He swiveled back and then stopped. “My family is having a dinner tonight. I’d like you to join me.”
Happiness welled in her chest. He was including her—like a real date. That had to mean something. “I’d like that.”
“We’ll leave at seven.”
She glanced at her watch. She had just over an hour to get ready. And then she realized she wasn’t prepared—not to go to Hudson Manor as Max’s date. “I didn’t pack anything that would be appropriate for a night out. I’ll need to go to my place to change.”
“Back up your work and go. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” His neutral tone lacked enthusiasm and again, that niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right hit her.
She brushed it aside. They’d made love and he was taking her to his family dinner. As her brother had always claimed, as long as you’re making forward progress, you’re headed in the right direction.
And Max was picking her up at her house. It would be almost like a date. Their first date.
Dana’s palms moistened and her pulse quickened as Max pulled his car to a halt in front of Hudson Manor. She’d been here several times before for functions related to work and to visit Lillian.
But tonight was different. Her role had changed.
Or had it?
It was hard to tell from Max’s demeanor. He hadn’t taken her in his arms and kissed her when he’d arrived at her place. In fact, he was acting as if they hadn’t been lost in each other’s bodies this afternoon.
She shook off her insecurities and looked up at the Hudson’s home through the car window. The French provincial mansion Charles had built for Lillian on Loma Vista Drive in Beverly Hills never failed to impress her. the gray stone facade with its wrought-iron decorative accents tripped every romantic switch she had.
Set on fifteen acres with two swimming pools, four tennis courts, stables plus a carriage house and a guest house, the estate had a fairy-tale quality that made it impossible for Dana to imagine living in such grandeur.
Charles and Lillian had filled the place with antiques they’d bought on their world travels, but the place didn’t feel in the least like a museum. Every other time Dana had come for a visit she’d been very comfortable. Tonight, not so much.
Max came around to her side of the car and opened her door. He offered his hand to assist her out. She grasped him tightly, glad for the reassurance under the changed circumstances. What would his family think about him with her?
She climbed from the car, took a deep breath and squeezed Max’s hand. She deliberately stepped into his body. “Thanks for including me tonight.”
