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.”
“Let me go.”
“Nope.”
“Let me go!” I shouted, Max gave me another shake but I kept pushing.
“You don’t look thirty-six,” he told me.
“Let me go.”
“Thirty, at a push.”
“Max. Let. Me. Go!”
“I was surprised, surprised enough not to believe you.”
“Let me go!”
“You wanna know how old I am?”
I gave up pushing since I wasn’t getting anywhere and it appeared Max was determined to have this conversation. If I’d learned nothing in the last week, I learned that when Max was determined to do something, he did it.
Instead of pushing, I glared at him again and said, “Not particularly.”
He ignored me and stated, “Thirty-seven.”
He was older than me. That was good. Not that it mattered if he was younger, really. Actually, not that it mattered at all since I didn’t care.
“Birthday’s May eighth,” he continued, breaking into my thoughts.
“Fascinating,” I drawled sarcastically even though it was because he wasn’t a year older than me, he was a year and a half and his birthday was only a month away.
Max went on, “Dad died when I was twenty-nine, took me six years to build this house.”
That was fascinating too. Six years was a long time. He must have been determined to do that as well.
Even so, I kept my mouth shut.
“He died of cancer, had it since I was sixteen, fought it back for thirteen years before it got him.”
That was also fascinating but in a sad yet inspiring way.
Still, I demanded, “Stop talking,” but he ignored that too.
“Don’t know why Kami’s such a bitch. Pretty much has been since I could remember. Mom, she fucked up, getting shot of Dad since she always loved him. They fought, fuck, you wouldn’t believe it. Even when they were divorced. But she always loved him. Told me that after his funeral. His death broke her. She was so goddamned stubborn, so fuckin’ proud, she let her life just slip away. Lived in the same town as the man she loved the length of it but only with him for eight years. Now, she’s bitter for it.”
Unwilling to let Max’s sharing breach my defenses, I latched onto something he said and called him on it. “Are you insinuating I’m proud and stubborn?”
“Don’t think you’re proud, babe, but you’re stubborn as hell.”
“I am not.”
“You sure as fuck are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“If you’re not then why, an hour ago, did you let me in, practically begged me to come in and locked me tight when I got there and now you’re doin’ everything you can to shove me right back out?”
This time I ignored him and suggested, “Let’s talk about your mother.”
I saw his jaw flex in irritation at my change of subject before he asked, “What do you wanna know?”
“How about you explaining why you’ve had breakfast and dinner with my mother and she lives in Arizona and your mother lives fifteen miles away and I haven’t met her?”
“This might have escaped you, Duchess, but we’ve been kinda busy.”
I found it tremendously annoying when he was right.
Max went on, “There’s also the fact your Mom showed up on the doorstep and then stayed.”
Yes, totally annoying when he was right.
Max continued, “Not to mention, you already met Kami twice and I figured that was enough of my family for awhile. I’m tryin’ to find ways to make you want to stay, not give you reasons to run away.”
This, too, was a good point.
“Perhaps we should stop talking and go back to relaxing,” I suggested the impossible. I was never going to relax for the rest of my life.
“Explain somethin’ to me, babe, why is it you always wanna stop talking when I’m winnin’ the fuckin’ argument?”
I decided to be honest. “Because you’re more annoying when you’re right than you are just normally.”
Max stared at me a minute, visibly astonished by my honesty then he threw his head back and laughed while gathering me close to his amazing, sweat-slicked chest.
“Jesus, you’re cute,” he murmured when he quit laughing and my face was stuffed into his throat.
“For the last time, Max, stop telling me I’m cute when I’m angry at you,” I demanded and he laughed yet again.
I shoved at his chest.
Max let me push back but unexpectedly I found myself suspended then maneuvered then I was straddling Max’s lap and my towel was whipped off.
I covered my breasts with my arms and snapped, “Max!”
One of Max’s hands was at my hip, anchoring me to his lap, the other one was gliding up into my hair.
“Been wantin’ to try this since you told me that first night your sinuses hurt,” he muttered, his hand in my hair pulling my face to his.
“What?” I asked on a whisper, all of a sudden enthralled with watching his mouth get closer.
“Try and see how creative I can get, helpin’ you work out that attitude of yours.”
Even in the sauna, a shiver slid along my skin.
“Max –” I started but didn’t say more.
His head slanted and his hand tilted mine the other way. Then he kissed me.
Then he got creative, helping me work out my attitude, an endeavor at which he was staggeringly successful for, after we were done, the only attitude I had the energy to adopt was calm and serene.
* * * * *
Max and I made love in the sauna then he took me to the shower to rinse off then he toweled me off then he took me to bed.
He didn’t like it when I put on my undies under the towel and tugged his t-shirt on over it before I pulled it free but when I explained I had never been comfortable sleeping nude, he didn’t say another word.
Then as I lay on my side in bed, he soothed ointment on my scrapes again while I tried with only small success to stay awake.
After he was done, he threw the ointment on the nightstand, turned out the light, tossed the covers over us and pulled me into his arms.
As sleep started its invasion, I snuggled closer and whispered, “I’m sorry your Dad was sick for so much of your life.”
“Sleepy Nina,” he murmured strangely, his hand had gone up the t-shirt and his fingers were drifting along my back. If I wasn’t so sleepy, I would have keenly registered how incredibly nice his hand felt, drifting restfully along my back. Instead, I vaguely registered how incredibly nice his hand felt, drifting restfully along my back.
“What?” I asked.
“Sleepy Nina is Sweet Nina,” he said quietly. “I see I got Sleepy Nina.”
“No,” I told him. “I’m Three Orgasms One in a Sauna Nina. That Nina is always sweet.”
His hand stopped drifting, his arm wrapped around me and he gave me a squeeze.
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he muttered while he did and his mutter sounded like it came through a smile.
Sleep kept encroaching and I didn’t have the strength, or will, to fight it.
But, for some reason, my mouth kept talking. “Max?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“You scare me.”
I felt his fingers tighten against my skin before he said, “I know I do.”
“Every day it gets better which makes it worse.”
I felt him give me another squeeze as I pressed closer and wrapped my arm around his belly.
“Quit fightin’ it, it’ll just get better,” Max advised.
I felt my weight settle into him as slumber
slid over me.
But even so my mouth kept moving. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Life doesn’t give you promises, baby, I can’t either but we’ll do the best we can.”
“Mm…” Finally, my mouth started to go to sleep too.
But my mind didn’t, not for a few seconds, while his words penetrated.
I didn’t know for sure but I didn’t think I wanted promises, not if they were empty. Honesty felt a whole lot better.
“Sleep, Duchess,” Max urged.
“’Kay.”
I got another squeeze and my mind processed this too, mainly how much I liked it.
“’Night, baby,” Max whispered, rolling toward me and wrapping his other arm around me, holding me close, holding me tight.
“’Night, Max,” I whispered back.
Then I fell asleep in Max’s t-shirt, in Max’s bed, in Max’s house and in Max’s arms and I did it before it fully penetrated my brain how I felt.
Not scared at all.
Chapter Nine
Settling
My eyes drifted open and I saw the wall of Max’s chest.
I was held tight to his side, my cheek on his shoulder and my arm was draped across his belly. It was either dawn or clouds were covering the sun for it was morning and there was light but it wasn’t the sunny Colorado mornings I had swiftly become accustomed to.
It struck me that I felt rested, not like I’d spent the craziest week of my life, but like I’d just had a week on a beach with nothing to do but sit in the sun, read a book and, if the spirit moved me, go play in the water.
And I knew it wasn’t the three orgasms (one in the sauna) that I’d had last night.
It was something else, or a bunch of something elses.
And I knew all of them, every last one and I decided to take that quiet me-awake/Max-asleep morning time, finally, to sift through them in my head.
Those something elses included Max calling me Duchess, not as if he’d christened me that name eight days ago, but like he’d called me that since birth.
And they included Max holding me while I was gripped in a fever, trembling with the chills.
It was Max making me oatmeal and telling me he’d never give me a reason to take a timeout and, if I took it anyway, he’d phone.
It was buffalo burgers and the fact that he ordered them for me, not because he was domineering (or not entirely) but because he knew they were delicious and he wanted to give that to me. Coupled with that, it was the fact that he made sure I had an ale when he found out I didn’t drink lager.
The Gamble Page 36
