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A Virgin for His Prize
A Virgin for His Prize
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A Virgin for His Prize

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He shrugged. “I have been accused.”

“Yeah. That’s believable.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that we have things, important things, we need to discuss.” He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek.

Romi shivered, but not from the cold this time. “What are they?”

“I’m sure you can guess.”

“Max…” But she didn’t know what she wanted to say, where she wanted this conversation to go.

She’d spent a year doing her best to forget Maxwell Black and it hadn’t worked.

The silence stretched between them before he leaned down and kissed her firmly, but quickly. “Tomorrow, Romi. Block out your afternoon.”

“For lunch?” she asked breathlessly and unable to do a thing about that fact.

“For me.”

“I’m not making any promises, Max.”

“I am, Romi. Both to myself and to you. You will be mine.”

The words should have made her nervous. Should have scared her right of her wits really, but Romi liked them too much. Her secret fantasies all revolved around this man.

She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. “Tomorrow.”

Without another word, Max turned and went down the steps with a purposeful stride.

* * *

Romi moved restlessly in her bed. She’d left her father sleeping on the sofa in his study, the usual wool throw covering him.

She should be thinking about her best friend and the irrevocable step Maddie had taken in marrying Viktor Beck. Or if not that, Romi should be worrying about the problems with her dad’s company that Jeremy Archer clearly felt worth accosting her father over at his own daughter’s wedding reception.

But all of that bubbled in its own cauldron of stress at the periphery of the thoughts consuming her.

Maxwell Black said she was going to be his.

He knew she wanted a commitment. The hope of a future, not a guarantee, but at least the possibility. Okay probability. But she wasn’t looking for promises as much as the likelihood of them being made down the road.

None of which had he been willing to offer a year ago.

No, he’d presented the possibility of six months to a year of sexual pleasure and intermittent companionship, with the clear and nonnegotiable understanding that they would go their separate ways after a year.


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