It was crazy, insane. Two people drawn together despite the fact that they had nothing in common. His lips seared her like a brand. Her body melted against his as she tried to get closer, as if she could lose herself to sensation.
She kissed him, savoring the feel, relishing the power she sensed she had over him. She felt as much as heard the groan that rumbled when she ran her palms down his back. For a few incredible moments, he let her maintain control. She touched and kissed, took what she wanted.
Then suddenly this strong man had had enough. “Careful, princess. If your hands get any lower, you’re going to find yourself in my bed, on your back, with me sliding inside you.”
And this was a bad thing?
Yes!
She was the nanny.
She was here to prove that she could be independent and responsible and take care of herself.
He turned her in his arms, her back to his chest, then ran his palms up her abdomen, beneath the T-shirt. With his hands against her ribs he pulled her to him, the small of her back cradling his hardness as he cupped her breasts.
Her breath slid out in a moan when he wouldn’t let her turn around, only gently squeezed her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. She felt on fire, burning for something she could hardly name. But deep inside she knew this was what had been missing from her life. Need and yearning. Passion. The flame that made people willing to throw themselves into the fire.
His arm came across her collarbone, holding her secure, one hand still cupping her breast, pressing her high, before trailing away. Her skin felt sensitive and burning, and when his fingers slipped beneath the elastic band of her terry-cloth pants, her body shuddered.
When he nudged her feet apart, widening her stance, she obeyed willingly, only to gasp when his fingers found the curls between her legs. With one slightly callused tip, he parted her.
Her mouth fell open in a silent ah of sensation.
“You’re wet,” he whispered against her ear.
His finger traced the sensitive edges, reminding her of that day in her apartment. She made an incoherent sound.
“You’re hot,” he added. “Your passion is amazing.”
He circled and teased, but his finger didn’t slip inside her. She moved against him, wanting more. But then he pulled away.
When he turned her to face him, her expression must have shown the disappointment she felt, because his blue eyes darkened with satisfaction.
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.
Heat rushed through her, though she couldn’t seem to move. After a moment, he reached out and gently pulled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her arms bound for one long second as he dipped low and ran his tongue over each nipple.
Her breath grew raspy with wanting when he tossed the shirt aside. Then he lowered his body, kneeling before her as he pulled the pink material down her thighs. He smiled when he came face-to-face with her hot pink bikini briefs, running his fingers along the elastic, sensation scorching through her. Then he tugged them free, too.
She stood naked, and before she had the chance to feel self-conscious, she saw the awe in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
With that the world shifted. She wanted this, had wanted it for so long. It was time she stopped being afraid of that desire. And when he worked the buttons of his jeans, then stepped free, it was Vivi who stood in awe.
He stood before her, finely made, like the warrior from earlier without the mud paint. There was no embarrassment in his expression, only some innate understanding that she knew very little about men.
He let her drink in her fill, then he swept her up and carried her to his bed, following when he laid her down.
In all her life, she had never been completely naked with a man. When she had made love with Grady, it had been an awkward grappling beneath clothes. When she had touched him, he had tensed and pulled her hand away, embarrassing her to the core.
But there was no embarrassment with Max. She understood that she could touch, feel, revel, and he wouldn’t think less of her. And suddenly she understood that this man would allow her to let go of inhibition and not punish her afterward.
She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to feel his chiseled strength, but he only brushed his lips over hers before he rolled onto his side. He propped his head on his elbow, then made a sensual perusal of her body. She felt as if she had never been looked at before, not really, not seen. He saw into her, she understood.
When she grew impatient, he chuckled, then captured her hands above her head. He nipped and kissed and laved her with his tongue. Her body yearned for release. But in truth she wanted something more than that. Simply touching and seeing wasn’t enough.
“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me about sex.”
His body visibly tensed.
“I’m serious,” she added, when he let go of her hands. “I want to learn about you.”
Muttering an oath, Max rolled away from her, his chest and back muscles rippling as he sat on the edge of the bed. “This is about your pleasure, Vivienne, not mine.”
“But I want to understand what a man wants. I want that.”
When he didn’t give in, she grabbed his arm, leaping off the bed to kneel in front of him.
“I want to know, Max. That gives me power.” She smiled barely, shyly. Then boldly. “Show me what you want.”
He looked at her long and hard, his pulse visible in his neck. His breath grew ragged, but he didn’t move.
“Don’t make me beg,” she whispered.
After long ticking seconds, like a drowning man giving in, he placed his hands on her head, then gently lowered her mouth to the aching hardness between his thighs.
Chapter Sixteen
The minute he felt her lips touch him, heat was instantaneous.
It burst through him and he had to fight for control. His body strained, the tendons in his neck feeling like they would pop. Her inexpert attempts to please were nearly his undoing.
She wanted this. She wanted him.
That moved him in a way he didn’t want to consider.
His body’s response grew, every muscle taut when he finally began moving her on his hard shaft, her mouth tight and hot and sweet like silk, his head falling back, his fingers tangling in her hair, his muscles straining against the desperate need for release.
With an eager innocence, she moved on him, her very clear inexperience making the sensation even more intense. He was a big man in every way, and hard with desire. He wanted to thrust, but knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose the little control he managed to maintain. He barely moved, willing himself to be gentle, to teach her, not to give in to what his body craved.
He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but the feel of her wet, slick lips gliding on him. His hands fisted in her hair, guiding her.
Arching over her, he leaned down, running his large palms along her slender back to her hips. His body felt on fire, a moan escaping from deep inside his chest.
The fire leaped higher, stronger, consuming him in a way that felt like leaping into madness. Unable to take anymore, he let out his strangled breath in a choking rush as he moved her away from him, then pulled her up and kissed her.
“You make me burn,” he whispered.
He held her close as he rolled back. She was awkward in his arms, uncomfortable and fumbling, trying too hard. He alternately wanted to laugh and curse—laugh because she really was a cute piece of work, and curse because her innocence was never more evident than right now as they lay together in a way that was primal and sweaty.
“Shhh,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”
“Show me?”
“Like this.” He spread his thighs, cradling her between them, his hands cupping her round bottom.
She pressed close to his chest and ahhed, the sound a soft vibration of pleasure. Her body was made for sin, just like her mouth, with nothing prim or icy about it.
He rolled
them over until he was on top of her, his weight supported on his forearms. Their eyes locked as he nudged her knees apart and settled between them. The heat of her was incredible as he buried his lips against the skin of her neck. Reaching down, he pulled one of her knees up, bringing him closer, his hard shaft sliding against her soft, slick folds, his breath ragged. He kissed her, and her arms wrapped around his neck. With his body pulsing against her, he nipped her full, bottom lip, then gently sucked. He could tell she wanted to learn, wanted to match his rhythm. It would be easy to let go, like giving in to a drug.
God, how he wanted her. He wanted to possess her completely. Sink into her, take her, fill her, ease the ache that pounded through him.
Looking into her eyes, seeing the innocent desire mixing with vulnerability, he realized he couldn’t. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Vivienne Stansfield wasn’t a woman he could have sex with, then walk away from. She was the kind of woman a man married. Which made it impossible to give in to her at all. She and the likes of her father were everything he had fought against since he was ten years old.
A voice in his head whispered that they were everything he had fought to become. Rich and powerful. But he disregarded the thought. He had gained both wealth and power by working hard and never giving up. He was firmly rooted in reality. Vivienne Stansfield lived in a world of fantasy—a world he would never belong to.
With a groan, his body burning for completion, he pulled away as he tried to master the need to take her.
“Max?”
Panting, every muscle taut and wired, he could see the confusion in her eyes mixing with the pale, phosphorescent gray that had darkened with power and her own desire only seconds before.
“This is a mistake,” he managed to say.
Slowly she pulled away, looking betrayed and lost, touching her lips with the very tips of her fingers.
His chest heaved as he tried to breathe, tried to regain reason.
“Don’t you see, Vivienne? You work for me. I can’t take advantage of that.”
The betrayal he witnessed turned into something else—something even more vulnerable. The glint in her eyes made it clear that she didn’t believe him. And why should she? He didn’t believe it either. This had nothing to do with employee or employer, had had nothing to do with that since the day he hired her.
But he refused to admit that he couldn’t afford to lose control—not to anyone, and especially not to this woman who had plagued his thoughts for the last two decades.
“You’re just using that as an excuse,” she stated, rolling off the bed.
When she stood in front of him it was all he could do not to pull her underneath him and sink into her again and again until he was lost. Her body was elegantly curved, alabaster white with a mother of pearl sheen, her breasts heavy and full. He wanted to taste her, lick her until she cried out. Instead, he stood up and stepped into his jeans, using his mind to regain control of his arousal.
When he turned back, she still stood there, her chin raised defiantly.
“Vivienne, I’m sorry this happened. I never should have allowed it.”
“Allowed it?” she demanded, huffing with every piece of her scattered clothing she retrieved. “You are the most arrogant”—she jerked up her panties—“egotistical”— next came the warm-up bottoms—“moronic man”—she had particular trouble fighting her way into the T-shirt— “I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
When finally she was finished, she looked at him. “You didn’t allow anything. I’m a grown woman, wild and modern and I wanted it.”
Max had to clear his throat, fighting to feel any emotion besides need and wanting. He forced himself to smile.
“What?” she barked.
“Well, if you really want to know, all that frilly pink doesn’t go so well with the image of a . . . wild woman.”
“Joke all you want, Max. But this isn’t about me and you know it. You want me.”
Whatever smile he mustered evaporated when she looked him dead in the eye.
“But you hate that,” she added relentlessly. “Don’t you?”
His jaw muscles began to work.
“Tell me the truth, Max. You want me, but you hate that you want me. You think I was handed everything on a silver platter, and you’re a kid who had to pull himself up by the bootstraps, which makes you feel like you’re better than me.”
Long seconds ticked by, the rain still pouring down outside, relentless against the windows.
“I want you,” he finally stated, unable to lie. “And yes, I hate wanting you. Hate burning up every time you walk into a room. But we have nothing in common—no future together when we look at the world so differently. But still you set me on fire until I think I’ll burn up if I don’t find a way to slide inside you, fill you until you scream your release—and mine.”
She didn’t move, the sound of thunder rolling in the distance, her white teeth sinking into her full lower lip.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Vivienne.”
“And comments like ‘We have nothing in common’ and ‘There’s no future for us’ are supposed to make me feel good?”
“You disagree?”
“No,” she whispered sharply. “We don’t have anything in common. And there is no future for us.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Vivi turned to look at him. “You didn’t have to say it so bluntly.”
“A lie’s better?”
Vivi wrinkled her nose, making her look innocent and sweet despite the frustration that stained her cheeks. Then she sighed.
“Lie is such an ugly word,” she explained. “Equivocate. Fudge. Bend the truth. All could have worked here. Any of those would have helped me avoid the awful truth that men don’t want me.”
She started for the door.
“Vivienne?” He caught her hand. “You are desirable.”
He felt the urge again to pull her close, to prove just how desirable she truly was, but that couldn’t happen.
“You are, really.” But even he knew how inadequate that was, though saying more than that, allowing more than that, didn’t do either of them any good. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated, loosening his grip. “Are you going to be okay?”
She blinked, then focused and surprised him with a tense smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”
Then she slipped out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
Vivi stood in her bedroom, staring out the window without seeing, and thought of the issues she faced.
One, she had thrown herself at Max. And just like Grady, he had rejected her.
Clearly she was doing things wrong in the sex department.
Two, her father had defaulted on his loans. A man who supposedly had more money than God.
Three, he had cleaned out her bank account without a word.
Vivi didn’t know how to take it all in. But more than anything, one thought wouldn’t leave her alone.
Her life had been a lie.
Since the moment her credit cards had been rejected, she had held on, refusing to give in to the current that kept trying to wash away the sand beneath her feet. She had told herself that she was being strong.
But now disbelief and despair rushed in on her. Every emotion that she had fought off overtook her. She couldn’t run any more. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, that was exactly what she had been doing. Running, hiding, putting on blinders to the truth. She had thrown herself into Max’s family problems and tried not to think of her own.
But she couldn’t avoid it any longer.
“My life is a lie!”
There, she said it, not that anyone heard.
Falling back on the bed, Vivi stared at the ceiling. If money had been an issue, why had her father insisted that she plan a big wedding? And why had he encouraged her to spend so much over the years?
She shuddered at her extravagance, and shuddered again at all the wa
sted money in nonrefundable wedding deposits.
And still her father hadn’t called back, and she knew he had her cell phone number.
She glanced over at the tiara sitting in its satin box on the dresser. A stupid crown, as Nicki had said, as if she really was her father’s princess.
Vivi scoffed into the air because she understood then that she was everything people thought she was. Not her father’s princess, but the spoiled, pampered princess, who had spent a lifetime living in a fantasy world made of little more than smoke and mirrors.
Foolishly, in the week and a half since her credit cards had been rejected, she had held out hope that she could go back to her old life. However imperfect, it was what she knew.
She understood now that once and for all, she needed a long-term solution. She had to determine what needed to be done, then she’d do what she always did when she tackled a problem. She would come up with a plan to fix it.
At the thought, a pure, unadulterated shiver of fear raced down her spine. She had spent a lifetime trying to fix things—not always having success. But combined with that fear was a sense of determination and an amazing sense of freedom.
With no money and no desire to please her father any longer, she had the freedom to start a new life. She could let down the facade that had slipped all too often anyway. She could laugh out loud without cringing, or jump out of her seat to do the Wave and not care who saw.
Her heart started to pound and her palms got clammy. She remembered Max saying that she had to understand who she was before she could realize who she had the potential to be.
She knew he was right. And the first step was reading the whole truth of what they were saying about her and her father.
Leaping off the bed, she hurried downstairs to find the newspaper article. With ideas filling her mind, purpose pushing her on, she entered Max’s office, where he always read the paper. She stopped cold when she found him at the desk which faced the door, looking at his computer screen, Chris sitting in the chair in front of him. As soon as she arrived Chris turned.
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