by Mia Carson
She hung her head, fighting back the urge to scream her frustration to the sleeping dead in the cemetery just a few yards away. “I’m—”
“Don’t say it.” He cut across her words. “Say anything else besides those words.”
She shoved her hair away from her face as she glanced his way. His jaw was set and the muscles at his neck strained. “I don’t want to be scolded like a child, ever again. No matter what I do, you do not control every aspect of my life.”
His sharp gaze locked onto hers as his jaw worked. No words left his mouth, but he nodded.
“And for the record, I have never been spoiled in my life. No one ever bought me anything this nice before. And I hate roses because they remind me of a man I’d rather leave far, far behind me.” She tugged the jacket tighter around her body, sinking into the warmth left behind by the brute of a man she’d just married. “And I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Mia frowned. Where had that come from?
Max kicked at a rock on the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying,” she promised and spun to the side so she could face him fully. Her hand lifted and she reached out, running her fingers tenderly down the line of his strong jaw and up the scar on his left cheek, a scar she hardly noticed on this man who risked so much for a woman he didn’t know. He might say he wasn’t the hero type, but she came with a ton of baggage, more than most men would be willing to blindly deal with.
His hand caught hers, holding it to his face, and his brow furrowed, his eyes wavering between aggravation and pain she sensed had nothing to do with her. “Where… uh, where do you want to eat dinner? Bride’s choice.”
He hadn’t let go of her hand yet, and she relaxed in the comfort of his large palm. Her mind drifted over all the food Keith had refused to let her have in case it ruined her perfect body. She shook with mirth, cackling loudly until he gave her a worried look. “All I want is a greasy burger and about a pound of fries.”
“Tequila to wash it down?” She swore he was going to smile, but he held it in.
“Sounds like a party to me.”
He kissed the back of her hand and stepped away hurriedly. “Right then, Jeremy get your ass over here! We’re going for burgers!”
“I know the perfect joint!”
“We are not going to the gay club,” Max argued as Mia sputtered with laughter, hopping down from the trunk of the car. Max picked up the bouquet she’d carelessly tossed to the side and set it in the trunk before he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Oh, come on, they had so much fun with you last time,” Jeremy whined once they were piled in the car.
“No, pick another damned place.”
“You ruin my fun, that’s all you do.” He pouted in the back seat. “Keep that in mind, Mia.”
“Nah,” she said and stared out the window as they drove back towards the city. “I’ve seen much worse than Max.”
A tense silence filled the car before Jeremy named other places they could go. Max either agreed with him or shot him down, and neither—thankfully—asked what Mia meant. She was married. That was enough drama for one day.
The hour was late and Max was expected in the office the next morning. Not that this was a typical wedding night where he would be up for hours making love to his new wife. They dropped Jeremy off after dinner and drinks, returning to the penthouse with Mia tipsy. She kicked off her heels the second she stepped through the door, giggling through her hands.
“Oh, man. You know, for an impromptu wedding day, I don’t think it was too shabby,” she informed him. She held up the hem of her dress, spinning around and around in the open space.
Max was transfixed by the sight and stood completely still, not wanting her to stop. As the evening wore on, she’d relaxed more and more, and though she hadn’t completely revealed what had really happened, the little bit she had told him so far was a good start. With each spin, her hair tumbled out of the up-do until only a few pins held it in place. She came to a stop as she threw her arms out to balance herself. With a sigh, Max reached out to hold her and turned her around.
“I don’t think you want to sleep with those in your hair,” he muttered and dug through the hair-sprayed tendrils to find the rest of the pins. She flinched at his touch initially, but relaxed back against his body. Max stilled, his fingers buried in her hair, and wasn’t sure what to do. She sighed loudly and dragged him from his confused state of mind. He drew out the last pin. “There, I think you’re good.”
“Thanks,” she murmured through a yawn. “I think I’ll head to bed now.”
“You’ve had a long weekend,” he told her, but she didn’t move. “Mia?”
“Hmm? Sorry, think I dozed off for a second.” She giggled again and still didn’t move from his body. His fingers trailed feather-light up her bare arms, and the insane desire to kiss her neck and up to her ear nearly crippled him.
“Do you need help getting to your room?”
“Nah, I can make it,” she assured him and pushed off his chest, made it three steps, and stumbled on her long dress. Max hurried forward and swept her easily into his arms. “You do that a lot.”
“Do what?” he asked, his voice thick with want for the woman in his arms.
“Carry me. And you say you’re not a gentleman.”
He huffed. “I’m not, not even close, but I’m doing my best to respect your wishes,” he stated and shoved open her bedroom door without setting her down. He carried her to the bed and lowered her to her feet. Her body slid down the full length of his, and he groaned from the contact.
“What would you do if you weren’t respecting my wishes?” she asked, dragging her finger down his chest.
He caught her hand in his and leaned down so their faces were level. “I’d tear that dress from your prefect body and ravish you until you screamed my name and begged for more,” he growled. “I’d kiss you until you were dizzy and neither of us could see straight. I’d show you how many ways I could pleasure your body, touching you, tasting you… I’d do all of that.”
Her lips parted and her eyes narrowed. He worried he had pushed too far, but there was no glimmer of fear in her eyes. He released her hand and turned to leave when her hand shot out and caught his arm.
“Wait,” she pleaded on a breath.
“If I stay much longer, I won’t leave,” he promised.
“Just one more minute. Don’t you want to give your bride a good night kiss?”
At the chapel, when he’d kissed her briefly, Max had wanted nothing more than to crush her against his body and have his way with her mouth, her body, her everything, but he was afraid of scaring this woman who was supposed to be in love with him. He wasn’t after love—neither of them were—so why did he step towards her and reach out a gentle hand to her face? Why did his other hand wrap sweetly around her hip to her back and pull her against his body? She trembled in his arms, but her light smile said it wasn’t out of fear.
Want. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
This was a bad idea—terrible if they wanted to keep their distance and maintain the agreed-upon business relationship. She rose on her toes and tilted her head. Any thought of keeping his distance from this mysterious woman disappeared the moment he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were softer and tasted of the margaritas she’d been drinking all night long, salty and sweet at the same time. As her hands fisted in his shirt front, Max deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue against her lower lip. She opened her mouth for him, and he held her close, exploring every inch as passion flooded his body. When he was with a woman, it was always a quick in and out and done, but with Mia, he wanted to take his time, needed to experience all she had to offer and then some. A quiet moan flowed from her mouth and he swallowed it, desperate to hear more.
But the kiss had to end before he did something they would both regret. He withdrew his tongue and brushed his li
ps gently against hers and then her forehead before he stepped away. Her chest heaving with ragged breaths, Mia’s fingers rested against her lips, staring at him in awe and confusion.
“Good night, Mrs. Ward,” he whispered and turned on his heel, leaving her quickly before he changed his mind and relieved her of that dress hugging every delicious curve of her body. He would dream about her all night long, he knew it, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she looked like without any clothes on at all. His wife. His Mia.
6
If Mia closed her eyes, she could picture herself at the library, roaming through the shelves of stories on her break instead of where she was currently. She awoke that morning, her legs tangled in the sheets and a strange throbbing of want between her legs that took several hours to go away. Another note from Max awaited her on her door, explaining he would be at the office until five. He’d bought her a new cell with numbers for his phone, the office, Jeremy, and the front desk already saved. There was a key for the gym—complete with indoor pool—one floor up and a credit card he said was loaded with her monthly allowance.
The card in question contained more money than what she currently had in the bank, and she was too damn scared to use it. This situation was still a dream to her, and she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was married to a wealthy man, without preamble or question. She fiddled with the ring on her finger as she strolled along his bookshelves, searching for something to occupy her mind.
Anything to get it off the other issue pestering her.
Last night’s kiss had been incredible—no, beyond incredible. Toe curling and gut wrenching all at once. She wanted to blame it on the tequila and possibly lust or an emotional response to do something nice for the man who had essentially changed her life for the better, but each thought was a lie. The way he’d held her so securely and gently at the same time, how his warm mouth captured hers in a way that promised the most insane pleasure and possession… it was more than simple lust.
Mia’s chest tightened as she stopped before another shelf and glanced over the titles, not even really seeing them. Was she falling for this strange man so quickly?
“Course you’re not,” she scolded herself. “You’re just hyped up from an emotional weekend. Nothing more, so get your head out of the clouds and focus on your plan.”
Her plan was simple enough. By the time the four-year contract was up, she planned on deciding exactly where she wanted to move to, having enough money saved up to buy a tiny house, and finding a job at whatever library was closest. It was the best she could hope for. Going back to school or picking up poetry again tugged at her mind, but Keith’s mocking voice interrupted those dreams and she turned away from them quickly. Unable to focus on a book, she figured she would check out the gym after changing into a pair of sweat shorts and tank top.
During the day, it was empty, so she was free to use whichever machine she wanted. Since there was no one around, she ended with a quick dip in the hot tub, wearing only her underwear since she lacked a swimsuit. The hot water relaxed her body muscle by muscle, and she sighed as the bubbles bounced off her skin. She rested her head on the ledge and let her worries about the future drift away.
Tonight was the big family dinner, and she was concerned Max’s family would see through their act of love. Were his parents as rough around the edges as he was? Max cursed more than any person she had ever known, and his casual talk about what he wanted to do her last night set fireworks off in her body. Her hand drifted down her body beneath the water, but she stopped herself. This was not the place to explore that sensation. Her cell told her it was only three, so she had two hours before Max returned home from the office. Keith never caused her heart to pound with desire or her sex to throb with want for his touch. She was curious and hated to admit, in all her years of living, she had yet to experience an orgasm.
Hopping out of the hot tub, she grabbed one of the towels off the rack, wrapped it around her body, and hurried down one floor to the penthouse. “Max? You home?” she called out, but there was no answer.
The note also told her the master bathroom was much bigger and she was to feel free to use it instead of the guest one. She was, he stated, his wife, after all. Mia picked out the nicest pair of jeans she had and a sweater before ducking into Max’s bedroom. The walls had a few pieces of art she had a feeling Jeremy had picked out to annoy his friend more than anything. They were loud, filled with bright colors and shapes. The comforter was black, as was the four-poster bed, dresser, and nightstands. His closet was off to the side, but she didn’t peek through his clothes. She’d save that for another day when she was bored, and instead, she ventured into the bathroom.
“Holy shit,” she whispered after she flipped on the light.
She’d read about these bathrooms at the library, dreaming about what her house would look like if she had choice in the matter. The walls, floor, everything was tile, and there was a drain in the center. Three showerheads hung down from the shower space, completely open, and a massive black-tiled tub was to the right, big enough to fit three people easily. The double vanities were granite with sleek metallic fixtures. Mia set her clothes on one and reached into the shower for the knob. As the water warmed, she grabbed a towel from the other bathroom, embracing the steam from the heated water as she stepped back into the bathroom. There was no door, but she had a couple hours and didn’t worry about anyone walking in on her.
She shed her clothes and sighed as she walked under the water falling as a soothing rain over her skin. The warm droplets slipped down her shoulders as she tilted her head back and soaked her hair. She hadn’t grabbed any of her soap and used what Max had. The strong scent of pine filled the shower as she squirted out a glob of shampoo and lathered her body with a bar of soap close by. His scent surrounded her, and she closed her eyes, sensing him as if he was standing right behind her.
Mia set the bar of soap down and rinsed her hair, but as her hands ran over her naked skin, she couldn’t hold back the strong desire to feel something—anything—pleasurable after all this time. Her hand cupped her breast tentatively, surprised by how heavy it felt in her palm. She squeezed the soft flesh, her nipple hardening against her palm. Except it wasn’t her hand she imagined there, but another. Max. He’d promised to do so much to her last night if he wasn’t a gentleman.
Mia wished he hadn’t been. She needed to feel something in her body, wanted to be swept away on a wave of pure ecstasy. Her breath coming in sharp bursts, she slipped her hand down her wet stomach to her curls, then lower. Her lips parted with her fingers as she dragged them over the sensitive skin and shivered. The small bundle of nerves sprang to life at her touch and she bit her lip, resting her head against the tiled wall as she rubbed it harder. Her fingers inched towards her cleft and had barely dipped inside her body before a quiet moan escaped her mouth, imagining Max there instead… his fingers, his mouth.
Him taking her until she screamed his name to the heavens.
A thud frightened her, and she opened her eyes to see Max standing in the doorway of the bathroom, blurred from the steam. His jaw was clenched tightly, and Mia started to move her hands away from her body, but he shook his head.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said gruffly and turned around. “I’ll just wait outside for you to… uh, to finish.”
The naked hunger in his eyes struck her hard in the gut and she called out to him. “Wait, please. I… I don’t want you to go.” His body stiffened, but he kept his back to her. “Last night, what you said to me… that kiss? I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. You can go if you want to since this isn’t what we talked about, but I think… I think I’d rather you stay.”
She had no idea what she was doing, but her hands remained firmly planted on her body, waiting to see what he would decide to do. When he yanked off his suit jacket and slung it aside, followed by his tie, a spring coiled in her lower belly in anticipation of his touch. Keith had only kissed her, or if he did grab
her, it wasn’t out of love. She craved affection, to be touched in a way that brought her pleasure, not worry or pain.
Max rested his hands on his hips as he turned, and his gaze raked over her body until she shook with desire from it. He caressed her without even touching her, and she gasped for breath. “If that’s what my wife wants, who am I to deny her?” he grunted and stalked towards her in the shower.
When Max had checked out early for the day, he expected to come home to find Mia reading or watching TV and enjoying the peace this new life brought her. Instead, he heard the shower running and stepped in to simply set his things down. He saw her finger deep inside her and heard her moaning as she touched herself. He should have left, but his feet refused to move. When she saw him, he braced for her to yell, to scream at him. She did neither and asked him to stay.
Max pushed through the steam flowing out of the shower, his arousal growing when her eyes narrowed as she licked her lips. His feet stopped short of the shower area, and he stretched out a gentle hand towards her shoulder. He let out a shaky breath as his fingers trailed down through the water then up the crook of her elbow to the hand holding her breast. His large hand covered hers, kneading the flesh with her while his other snaked around her tiny waist. She frowned in confusion as he stepped under the spray with her.
“Your clothes,” she protested quietly.
“They’re just clothes,” he replied and lowered his mouth to hers.
She smelled of his soap, and the possessiveness in him roared to life, needing to finish claiming this woman who so abruptly fell into his life and took him by storm. He pressed her back against the shower wall as he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tugging her nipple until her back arched against his chest.
“Max,” she whispered, “I think… I think I should tell you something.”
“Is it absolutely relevant?” He kissed her neck, nibbling her earlobe before sucking it hard at the same time he tugged both nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Her hands buried in his hair, shoving his head closer as she cursed.
