jewelry I have ever worn. “Max, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
The audience claps and cheers. Max spins me around to face
them and slides an arm around my waist. “Are you ready for the big
time, baby?”
By the time the paparazzi are done taking pictures, I can no longer
see. Max leads me off the stage and into a luxurious side room with a
working fireplace, silk tapestries, and carved wood ceilings. We sit on a
red upholstered sofa built for two, and I stare at the fire and try to blink
the spots from my eyes.
“I see you managed to get an invitation.”
Max runs his hand up and down my bare back sending tiny shivers
of need darting through my veins. “When I saw that picture I had to
come. I would have stormed the castle if Colton had not managed to
get me on the list.”
I touch the necklace. “I’m glad you did. Seeing you walk through
the crowd was magical. You took my breath away. It’s a moment I’ll
never forget.”
“I aim to please.”
“And please you do,” I whisper.
With the worst possible timing in the universe, Dr. Drake appears
in the doorway. “Mac, we need you on stage. The bidding is cooling off.
You’ve got to get out there and heat things up again.”
Max bristles. “No.”
“Huntington.” Dr. Drake walks toward him and holds out his
hand. “We meet again. I want to thank you for your contribution. It
will help us purchase equipment that will save many lives, and I’m sure
Mac will be an entertaining dinner companion.”
He turns to me and gives me a wink. “Hopefully you can repeat the
performance for the benefit of Geriatrics.”
“No.” Max’s voice deepens and he rises to his feet. “She’s not going
back on that stage.”
Dr. Drake’s smile fades. “No?”
I tug on his sleeve. “It’s for charity.”
“I said no.” Max folds his arms. The sleeves of his tux strain under
the bulge of his flexed biceps.
Dr. Drake raises an eyebrow. “I believe it is Mac’s decision. I might
also point out this is a work function and she’s being paid to do a job.”
“I want to help.” I stand up and put my hand on Max’s arm. “It
won’t take long, and I promise not to offer any dinner dates.”
“There you go,” Dr. Drake smiles. “She wants to help.” He puts
his hand on my bare back and takes a step forward, leading me toward
the door.
“Take your hands off her.”
Dr. Drake freezes. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Max grasps my arm and pulls me toward him.
I stumble sideways and trip on the hem of my dress. Dr. Drake’s arm
snakes around my waist and he catches me before I fall.
Max yanks me out of Dr. Drake’s arms.
“Enough. This isn’t a tug of war.” I twist in his arms but he hugs
me to his chest like a child protecting a toy.
“I believe Miss Delaney would like you to release her.” Dr. Drake’s
voice is calm and even—a decided contrast to the low, threatening
rumble emanating from Max’s chest.
“And I believe if you have any sense of self-preservation, you will
walk out that door and find someone else to help with the auction.”
“You are overreacting.” I rest my cheek against his twitching pecs.
He smells divine. His cologne is fresh, spicy, and oh so masculine. His
body vibrates with the rumble of his voice. He is in full protective mode
and it fires my blood. But I can’t let him interfere with my work.
“Are you threatening me, Huntington?” Dr. Drake gives Max an
assessing look. “I’ll have you know I was a two-time NCAA champion
wrestler in college. I gave up on a professional career to become a doctor,
but I still practice daily in the hospital gym. He air boxes his shadow,
giving it a one-two punch. You want to step outside?”
“No.” I look from Dr. Drake to Max and back again. “I won’t
allow it.”
“I wanted to step outside with you a long time ago, Drake,” Max
says ignoring me. “You can’t seem to keep your hands off my girl.”
“Is she your girl?” Dr. Drake asks in a cool voice.
“Are you my girl?” Max’s voice drops to a low murmur, and he
brushes his lips over my hair.
“Yours,” I whisper.
Max gives a self-satisfied grunt and tightens his arm around me.
“She’s mine. She says so.”
“That doesn’t mean obeys Max’s every whim,” I add. “I’m going to
do my job and help with the auction. You can glower by the stage and
growl at anyone who dares breathe in my direction.”
Dr. Drake chortles. “Looks like she might be too much for you to
handle, Huntington. Maybe she needs a real man.”
Max’s body tightens and I slide my arms around his chest. “Don’t—”
“Redemption,” Max bites out. “MMA club in Ghost Town.
Tonight after the auction.”
Dr. Drake’s eyes flash and he grins. “I’ll be there. And lucky for
you, after your defeat, when you’re moaning in a pool of your own
contrition, I will be morally obligated to tend to your injuries.”
He extends his hand and he and Max shake.
“After the auction,” Max snaps, “and you don’t touch my girl again.”
“After the auction. And I will if she wants.”
Chapter 15
You Know the Rules Of the Ring
The auction is a roaring success. I walk the catwalk four more times,
and my hearts raise another two hundred thousand dollars. Max escorts
me on and off the stage. During the breaks, he even keeps Charlie away
with his folded arms and menacing stare. I am forced to entertain myself
by playing spot Big Doris as she swans around the room in her flores-
cent green suit.
After the auction ends, the floor is cleared for dancing. I catch
Charlie planting a smooch on Big Doris in the corner. Big Doris doesn’t
look pleased. She slaps him across the face. Good thing we’re in a room
full of medical professionals.
“Lighten up,” I say, after Max chases away an eighty-something-
year-old man in a wheelchair.
“If you want me to lighten up then put on my jacket,” he snaps. “I
know what these men are thinking, and I don’t want them thinking it
about you.”
“If I wear your jacket, will you dance with me?” Although I have
doubts about the kind of music the band is going to play for the primar-
ily post-sixties crowd, I never miss an opportunity to dance.
Max gives me a curt nod and slides his jacket off. He holds it for
me and I slip my arms inside. The warm, silk lining glides over my skin,
and I close my eyes and revel at the delicious sensation of being totally
enveloped in Max.
We hit the dance floor and the band launches into an upbeat, old-
time jazz tune. Max takes my hand and we shuffle a slow circle under a
potted palm. He hums along to the song, his face soft and relaxed. A smile
tugs at the corners of my lips. I’ve never seen him really enjoy himself.
“What is this song?”
; “Nina Simone’s ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’.”
“Of course it is,” I grin. “And you had nothing to do with the fact
they decided to play it right here right now.”
The band segues into something soft and sultry. Max pulls me into
his arms. He slides one hand under the jacket and caresses my back. His
other hand intertwines with mine, and he holds them pressed against
his chest. So damn sexy.
The beat slows, and I press my cheek to the smooth cotton of his
shirt. “What’s this one?”
“‘Listen to Me’ by Buddy Holly.”
I snort a laugh. “How much did you pay them?”
Max chuckles and spins me around the dance floor. His hand mas-
sages its way up my bare back with firm, gentle strokes. My muscles
relax into his warm caress, until his questing fingers dive into the side of
my dress to fondle the curve of my breast. I stiffen in his arms.
“Bad Max. I’m wearing the jacket to assuage your overly jealous
nature, not so you can surreptitiously feel me up.”
“You can’t show me something all night, baby, and not expect I’ll
want to touch.” His fingers slide farther into my dress, and brush over
my nipple. I gasp and try to pull away.
Max holds me tight and leans down, covering my mouth with his own,
drowning my moan of displeasure. Or is it pleasure? I can’t tell. His lips
move, easing mine apart, and he kisses me, deep and tender. “Shhh, baby.”
“I’ll shhh when you stop being naughty.”
“Can’t. You’re wearing a naughty dress. All I can think about is
getting inside it.” To emphasize his point, he slides his hand down my
back and inside my dress to cup my bottom. He gives my ass cheek a
squeeze and runs his finger along the inside of my thong before giving
it a tug. “Don’t need this.”
“I do need it. I am not going commando at a swanky party.”
“You won’t be wearing it by the end of the night,” he rasps in my ear.
“I promise you that.” He squashes my hips against him and his arousal
presses into my belly, sending tiny shivers of need down my spine.
The band plays yet another old tune, and Max easily catches the
beat. The music is not as bad as I thought, especially with Max caressing
me into a frenzy of lust under his jacket.
He croons along with Sinatra, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
My body thrums with desire and the anticipation of unfulfilled need.
“You’re in the mood for fighting,” I correct him, when he pauses to
take a break after the famous first line. “You’ve decided to throw away
the opportunity to get Makayla out of her dress so you can indulge in a
late-night pissing contest with Doctor Drake. I have to work tomorrow.
There’ll be no loving for you.”
“Sassy girl. It works both ways. Do you really want to spend the
night alone?” He feathers kisses along my jaw. I roll my eyes and pretend
flames of need are not licking through my body.
“I have a Rabbit.”
Max freezes and thrusts me away from him, eyes wide. “What did
you just say?”
What did I just say? I take a little trip down memory lane. I do not
like where I arrive. My hand whips over my mouth. NO. I did NOT
just say that. Please, please, please let it not be true.
Max’s eyelids lower to half-mast and he licks his lips. “We’ll go to
Redemption. I’ll deal with Drake. Then we’ll go to your place and play
with your Rabbit.”
I did say it. “Uhhhhgh.” My voice catches in my throat. “I don’t…
you know—”
“You do now.” His voice is warm, rich and filled with promise.
“Can’t you just forget about Doctor Drake?” I murmur. “We could
go to my place—”
“He challenged me. I don’t turn down a challenge. This is who I
am, baby. I’m a fighter.”
I stroke my hand along his jaw, trying to ease his tension. “It isn’t
who you are. You are so much more. I don’t want you to fight with him.
Please. Just walk away. Come home with me.”
He shakes his head and draws my hand away. “Don’t do this. Don’t
ask me to choose.”
My heart sinks, weighted down by his unspoken words. If forced to
choose, he won’t choose me.
An hour later, I huddle in the backseat of the limo outside Redemption.
Despite Max’s best efforts, I refuse to go inside. If not for the fact it is
impossible to get a cab at this time of night, I would not even be here.
Lewis turns around and holds up a flask. I shake my head. I might
be patching up two morons tonight. I’ll need a clear head to treat them,
and my wits about me to scold them.
My phone buzzes and I take a call from Dr. Drake. He isn’t coming.
Big emergency at the hospital. He sends his regrets. Hooray! I might get
some loving tonight after all.
I race into the club and find Max shadowboxing in the practice
ring. His fight shorts cling to the curve of his ass, and his back glistens
with sweat. I catch the fresh, lemon scent of cleanser and raw musk of
hot, sweaty male.
“He’s not coming.”
Max shakes his head and jabs at the wall. His muscles ripple and
swell as he lands each imaginary punch. Maybe he didn’t hear me.
“Doctor Drake isn’t coming,” I yell. “He was called to the hospital
to consult on an emergency heart surgery.”
He lowers his arms and turns to face me. “Do you believe him?”
“Yes. If he wanted out, he would have thought up an excuse that
wouldn’t be so easy for me to check when I go to work tomorrow.”
Max grabs a towel and wipes himself down. His hair is damp, and
curls just above his neck. As he moves, his tattoos undulate over his skin.
Broad back, tight ass. All man. All hot. My mouth waters.
As if sensing the stirring of my desire, Max spins around, dark eyes
hooded. “What are you thinking, baby?”
I put a hand on my hip. “I’m thinking it’s time to go home.”
His wicked grin shoots straight to my core. “I’m thinking it’s time
you came into the ring. If you aren’t here in five seconds, I’m coming
to get you.”
I kick off my shoes and climb through the ropes. As soon as my feet
touch the mat, he backs me into the corner, and licks his lips.
“You look like you’re about to devour me.”
“I am.” His mouth slants over mine and he kisses me. Hot. Wet.
Hungry. I don’t even try to resist. I curl my hands around his neck and
pull him down for more.
“You know the rules of the ring,” he murmurs. His tongue flicks
against the seam of my lips, forcing them apart.
“No eye gouging. No biting. Nothing below the belt. No fish
hooking,” I say with pride.
Max chuckles. “Not the rules I was thinking about. Especially since
there may be some biting and there will definitely be attention focused
below the belt.”
A soft “oh” escapes my lips. “I didn’t know there were other rules.”
“Our main rule is that no one leaves the ring unless someone goes
limp or gives up. Which will it be, baby? I think we should go
for
limp—the replete with sexual satisfaction kind.”
My lips part with a moan, and he dips inside, coaxing me open with
his talented tongue. He tastes of whiskey and coffee. He tastes of me.
I slide my hands around his powerful torso and explore the hard
ripple of muscle down his back. “You must have me confused with
someone else,” I tease. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl are you?” He sifts his hand through my hair and
cups my head, holding me tight as he deepens his kiss.
“Hot kind,” I whisper against his lips.
“What else?”
“Wet kind.”
He slides his hand down my bare back, then lower until he kneads
my bottom, sending a shock wave of pleasure over my skin.
“What else?” he demands.
I pull out of his grasp and step away. Before he can protest, I put my
hands behind my neck and undo the clasp of my dress. The front falls
to my waist, revealing its secret built-in bra cups and baring my breasts.
Max’s hungry gaze rakes over me, but before he can touch, I undo the
clasp on my lower back and let the dress sweep down my body into a
pool of silver sparkles. “Naked kind.”
Max stares at me, his gaze traveling the length of my body and back
again, so intense I feel the heat in my toes.
Boldly, I step forward. My breasts brush against his hot, hard chest,
and my nipples tighten in response.
“I like naked kind. But you aren’t entirely naked.” His hands glide
down my sides to my hips. His thumbs hook into the band of my lacy
thong and he tugs. The thin fabric parts with a graceless ripping sound
and then flutters to my feet.
Raw lust streaks straight to my core. “Animal! You tore off
my panties.”
Max cups my ass in his palms and squeezes lightly, rolling my
cheeks. “I told you it would come off tonight.”
“Is that how you seduce a woman? You rip off her clothes?”
“I thought you were seducing me,” Max murmurs. He presses tiny
kisses along my jaw and down my neck. “Best seduction technique is to
get naked.”
I rub my hip against the hard line of his erection. “Is it working?” I
ask with feigned innocence. “I’ve never seduced a man before.”
“And you won’t again.” His voice is deep and sexy, and I can’t help
Against the Ropes Page 21
