Baring It All

by Rebecca Hunter

  His cock was still hard against her, reminding her of one of many reasons she was here with this man.

  She smiled a little. “Hell, no.”

  Physical memories from the beach yesterday flashed through her. His voice rumbling in her ear. The hard muscles of his chest. His arms around her, his thick cock inside her. She let out a hum of pleasure as some of the heaviness between them dissolved.

  He nuzzled her once more and pushed up onto his knees. The muscles across his chest rippled and flexed. “I think it’s time to get naked.”

  He undid the laces of his board shorts and stuck his hand inside them. A satisfied groan came from his mouth. Damn, she could watch him all day long. Or she could get naked and do more than watch.

  Natasha shed her clothes. Max reached into his bag and pulled out a condom, tossing it onto the bed. Then he was right behind her, his hands on her hips, his hard length between her legs.

  “Oh, yes, Max,” she whispered, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her. “More.”

  “On your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  Max never let go of her as she turned around on the bed. He ran his hand down her back, over her ass, around her hips and between her legs. He teased her clit and slipped two fingers inside her. Waves of pleasure radiated through her as she moved against his hand.

  “Last night, in my bed, I imagined looking at you like this,” he said, his voice lower. “First, you’d take out my cock and ride me, just like you did on the beach, and I’d watch your beautiful tits bounce as you moved up and down. And then, when you were out of breath, I’d turn you over and fuck you just like this.”

  His fingers were teasing her, but it was his words that really got her going.

  “I want that, Max.”

  “I’m so worked up right now,” he rasped. “And you feel so ready.”

  “I am,” she said, losing herself in the pleasure.

  His hand left her, and she turned her head to watch as he tore off the wrapper from the condom and rolled it down his glistening cock. His face was twisted with pleasure. Then he looked up at her, right into her eyes. He held her gaze, his expression stormy. He opened his mouth but hesitated, as if he was debating whether to speak.

  He swallowed, then positioned his cock against her. “This is my wet dream, Natasha. You are my dream. That’s not going to change.”

  Before she had a chance to think further about his words, he sank inside her in one, slow thrust that took her breath away.

  * * *

  Fuck, this was so good, so right. Max clenched his jaw, teetering on the edge of control, willing himself not to give in to the overwhelming urge to come. Just burying his cock deep inside the delicious warmth of Natasha’s pussy was more than he could bear. Just hearing her gasp and sigh and moan as he filled her would push him over the edge if he wasn’t careful.

  His balls were tingling, aching for that satisfying slap of contact at each hard thrust, but he resisted. Max had resigned himself to his never-ending need for this woman. He had long passed the point of stopping before he got in too deep.

  But the vulnerability on her face as he said he wouldn’t hurt her had twisted hard in his gut. Still, he had pushed her further.

  You are my dream. That’s not going to change.

  The truth, despite the fact that he was on a path that she had spent her life trying to avoid. But instead of slowing this down, making sure she understood, he was burying it in sex.

  He should have called it off, but he hadn’t. He had passed by all the warning signs and sunk balls-deep inside her again. Max would like to blame his insatiable cock, but that would be a lie. He wanted her to laugh. He wanted her to tell him about whatever went on in her mind—sex, fish, her worries, her past. Everything. He wanted her to let herself want. But now, after a few days together, he wanted even more than that. He wanted to be the only man to give her these things.

  He wanted to take back every limit they had made about this weekend.

  If she wouldn’t let him, at least he could show her what it was like for a man to want all of her, not just parts. He could show her what it felt like to have a man worship her.

  Max eased his fingers from her hips and explored the soft skin of her waist, her back, her arms. He gathered the long strands of her hair and moved them over one shoulder. Then he lowered himself over her, his hands on the bed beside hers, his chest skimming her back. He pressed a kiss on her shoulder blade.

  “You feeling good, sweetheart?” he asked, his lips brushing against her skin.

  “Better than good.”

  “Even for à la carte customers, I aim to satisfy,” he said.

  She laughed, but her voice sounded shaky.

  Then he started to move. His legs were longer than hers, long enough that straddling hers, he could experiment with angles a little, figure out what made her body hum. And then he found it. Her breaths turned to moans, deep and loud with every thrust. Yes, he could do this for her, give her what she wanted.

  “Do you feel how hard you make me?” he growled in her ear. “Everything about you turns me on, Natasha. Everything.”

  “Oh, Max,” she moaned. “This is so good. I want—”

  Max slowed, waiting for the end of the sentence. What did she want? Was it about sex, or was it more? But she didn’t finish. Instead, her body moved and hummed under his, and he found his way deeper inside her, over and over. And still he wanted more. Deep down, he was a selfish bastard, and he wanted it all with this woman.

  “Lay your head down,” he rasped. “Let me in deeper. Give me more of you.”

  “Always.” Her voiced mingled with her breaths. She came down onto her elbows, lying on her cheek, her ass still up in the air. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted, gasping, as if she were on the brink of ecstasy. Even if this had to end, this moment was theirs. Real.

  “Oh, baby, I want you,” he groaned, his hips moving faster. “Natasha.”

  She cried out as he spoke her name, meeting each thrust, gasping, saying his name over and over. She came, clenching around his cock, setting off bursts of pleasure through him. He needed to come, and this time he wasn’t going to stop that urge.

  His body went rigid as his cock went off. Max dropped down to his elbows and let go, sinking his teeth into the tender slope of her neck. Her pussy tightened again as she bucked beneath him, wailing, “Yes, Max, yes,” the words branding into him as the waves of pleasure shot through him. There was nothing else except Natasha.

  Slowly, the rest of the world came into focus. The rustle of the palm trees, the squawks of birds, the soft lull of the ocean.

  He lifted his mouth from her shoulder and looked down at the red bite mark.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “I bit you again. Hard.”

  “Hard enough that the whole island probably heard me,” she whispered. “It was amazing.”

  He kissed the spot, then turned her over to study her face. Her gray eyes were still a little unfocused, and a languid smile played at her lips, but her forehead wrinkled a little. Was she turning over his words in her mind, just like he was?

  Then she smiled up at him as if there was nothing more that she needed in the world. Just him. And it was so goddamn tempting to believe it. To push aside all the reasons to the contrary and promise that he was the one for her.

  She blinked up at him, her smile fading. Natasha lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, and he closed his eyes and let everything else fade away except her touch. She stroked his jaw, her hand moving back and forth over the stubble. Her fingers trembled as they moved over his lips. When he opened his eyes again, she was staring up at him with a crease running across her brow, as if she were studying him. Memorizing him.

  * * *

  “How long until the boat comes?” asked Alya, rolling her suitcase to the bedroom door.

 
Natasha looked up from the pile of clothes in front of her and glanced at her watch. “A little more than thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be by the pool if you need me.”

  Natasha blinked up at her sister. “You’re already packed?”

  “Yep. You’d be packed, too, if you hadn’t been staring at your suitcase for the last twenty minutes.” Her sister looked out their door, in the direction of the other bedroom. “Is everything okay between you and Max?”

  Natasha frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Her sister shrugged. “Your mind is somewhere else, and he just seems a little...subdued. For Max.”

  “We’re fine. Nothing’s changed.” That was the problem. Everything felt different now, but nothing had really changed. She would return to Sydney, pretending that Max had not turned her entire world upside down on Green Island. She bit her lip and looked down at her half-packed suitcase before Alya could read any more into her expression. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

  Alya didn’t leave. She stood by the door, her eyes still fixed on Natasha, as if she had more to say. Natasha turned away, shoving shirts and socks into her suitcase, and a few moments later her sister’s footsteps shuffled out. At the sound of the door, her shoulders slumped.

  God, she was a mess. Earlier, neither of them had said a word as she’d slowly pulled her clothes on, but his touch had been gentle, soothing.

  After just a few days in paradise, Max had succeeded in slipping through every protection she had built around herself, and the crazy want for him was building up in her. Was she falling in love with Max Jensen, Australia’s notorious heartbreaker, all Illana Petrova style? God, no. She couldn’t be.

  What she needed was time. Time to think this through rationally.

  So after she left his bedroom for the last time, she’d avoided him for the rest of the afternoon, spending time in the water. When she’d come back, Max and Alya had returned from the final shoot. Soon they would leave Green Island behind. This would all make more sense when real life resumed on Monday.

  Natasha unplugged her phone and looked at it for the first time since she had arrived. Sixteen missed calls from Wayne. Sixteen messages. Natasha raised an eyebrow. An unprecedented effort by him. A few days ago, she might have called him back. But right now, she didn’t even care. All she could think about was Max. She shoved her phone into the side pocket of her bag and grabbed another handful of clothes.

  Natasha didn’t hear Max enter, but all at once she felt him there, behind her. She turned around slowly. The scruff, the board shorts, the tousled blond hair—that Max was gone. In his place was the clean-shaven man, dressed in black, all hard muscles and intense gaze. His blue eyes were dark and stormy, and tension radiated in his every move. His jaw ticked as he stared down at her.

  “I need to pack, Max,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

  Of course, he didn’t. He just stared down at her.

  “I knew this could hurt you, and I still did it.”

  “You knew it could hurt me? Not you?”

  He looked annoyed. “You’re missing the point. This isn’t about whether or not I get hurt.”

  “Of course it’s not,” she said lightly. “You’re Max Jensen, the most easygoing bachelor in the whole country. You’d just let it roll off you and move on.”

  For a moment, the hurt on his face was so raw that she felt sick to her stomach. Oh, God, what was she doing? Hurting him intentionally? Even as she spoke these words, she’d known they weren’t true. He just acted like everything rolled off him, and she was using it against him. This whole conversation was a bad idea.

  Natasha took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that, Max. I know it’s not true, and I’m sorry. I think we should end this conversation before I say anything else I regret.”

  She turned away, back to her suitcase, but Max didn’t leave. He came closer, squatting down beside her. His breaths rang in her ears, and his scent was everywhere. She closed her eyes, unable to stop the want flooding through her. God, she would probably never get over this man. No more events with Alya. She’d have to just keep her distance.

  His warm hand glided over her bare arm, and she braced herself against the bolt of desire that coursed through her. He must have felt her reaction because he let go.

  “Shit,” he muttered. She opened her eyes, and he was so close, his face twisted with frustration. Her heart squeezed in her chest.

  He held up his hands. “Please, let me finish.” Heat flared in his gaze, and his voice lowered as he spoke these last words.

  Natasha bit her lip, nodded and his gaze jumped down to her mouth and stayed there for an extra beat. When his eyes met hers again, the flames burst higher.

  The tidal wave of emotions was building in her, the feelings that weren’t supposed to come with a quick fling. After spending years constructing her life to avoid her mother’s path, somehow she had ended up here anyway.

  “I know how you feel about who I am and what it means to be a Jensen, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting you anyway,” he said, his voice low.

  She blinked up at him, too stunned to get words out. That was how he saw their situation? Red warning lights were flashing in her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the overpowering urge to do something stupid and rash, searching for other reasons that they could never be more than a fling. “It’s not just that. I’ve seen how you feel about monogamy.”

  Max winced. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Then he leaned closer, so they were almost touching.

  “Let’s make this clear. I have no problem with monogamy,” he said, his voice low. “I just don’t see the point unless it’s someone I’m serious about.”

  “You’re looking for someone serious but you’re sleeping around?” she asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity. “Hmm...”

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m thinking that I’ve found someone I could be serious about. But she doesn’t want me, exactly as I am.”

  That was a direct hit, and the words shook the foundation of her entire adult life. It was the truth, and spoken so plainly, it sounded awful. When she distilled all her hesitations, she didn’t want him because she was afraid of his high-profile position, something he was born into, something he didn’t control. And he knew it. Yeah, he slept around, but the same prying eyes would have torn into his life even if he didn’t—Alya’s own battle with the media during her career had taught her that much. Natasha sucked in a shaky breath as he brought his hand to her cheek.

  “What would you have preferred, Natasha?” he asked quietly. “I expressed my interest three years ago, and you didn’t want anything to do with me. Were you expecting celibacy?”

  She shook her head slowly. She hadn’t exactly been celibate, either. But the larger question was this: Could she really put herself out there, take a chance on a connection forged through a few days of sexcapades? That chance had to be carefully weighed against the very high probability she’d be analyzed, scrutinized, and she knew exactly where that would lead.

  “I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore,” she said quietly. “Sneaking around for more sex until we get caught? Dating?”

  He stroked her cheek but didn’t answer.

  “I was the ugly duckling sister,” she said. How did those words still have the power to hurt her? This was the last thing she wanted to talk about, but it was better that Max understood.

  “Thirteen is a tough age to see that in print. And I had a mother who agonized over everything that was written about her, so, of course, I believed it mattered. As did most of the kids I went to school with.” Natasha swallowed, pushing herself to continue. “At first, I tried to hide myself, and then I tried to fix myself, to be someone different. Even when I finally decided that I wasn’t going to care anymore, sometimes I still found myself wondering, do people still see
me as the ugly duckling?”

  She had told this story to Wayne, too, but saying it to Max, the man who made her feel both beautiful and vulnerable, was different. Harder.

  “Coming to Australia wasn’t just good for Alya. It was a fresh start for me, too. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I arrived.” Natasha straightened up. “I can’t go through that again, Max. Even if I’m not an ugly duckling anymore, the media always finds something.”

  She took a deep breath and looked at him. Hurt was etched into his beautiful features, and there was so much worry and fear in his eyes. Still, he said nothing. His touch was gentle, and his gaze never left her.

  “Max and Nat?” Alya’s voice came from the front door. “It’s time to go. We have to catch the boat.”

  The tension in the room shifted instantly. This was really coming to an end. Max got to his feet. His eyes met hers for one last moment before he turned and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NATASHA TOOK A sip of her coffee and cringed. It was cold and bitter. How long had she been sitting here at the kitchen table, staring at the wall, replaying scenes from Green Island...in graphic detail? Too long. She was on holiday, free to do whatever she wanted, and she was spending it on porn-worthy Max memories. And other ones, too: in the water, on the beach, just being together, laughing with him. Natasha sighed. She hated just how much she ached for him,

  In a few days she would see him again. Talk to him, touch him, maybe even dance with him. And have one more night of amazing sex, of course. He would make her laugh. And he would make her feel like she was the only woman he wanted. And then what? God, she wasn’t going to chase after him, was she?

  She doesn’t want me exactly as I am.

  Max’s accusation ran through her head. But, no, it wasn’t quite true. She shouldn’t want to be with him, and yet, after a few days apart, she still did. What made that accusation uncomfortable was that it had echoes of the ugly duckling incident: she had felt rejected for things she had no control over.