The Gamble (Colorado Mountain #1)(91)

He let my coat go, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door.

We were standing outside while he locked it when he muttered, “Keep that top close.”

“Sorry?” I asked his profile and he turned to me, moving fast, all of a sudden he reached a hand out to curl around the back of my head and he yanked me forward so I had to put up both hands to break my fall. I did and they hit the hard wall of his chest.

“That top,” he said when he dipped his face close and I realized his voice sounded funny. It was intense but it was also hoarse like when we were fooling around and I understood why when he again spoke. “Tonight, when I f**k you, I want you naked. Later, I want you ridin’ my c**k wearin’ nothin’ but that f**kin’ top.”

My knees buckled and my fingers curled, the nails of the hand not clutching my bag grazing his chest as they did so and I just stared at him unable to function mainly because I was lost in his eyes at the same time I was focused on what my body was feeling and I liked both of these things so much there was no room for anything else.

“Babe, you don’t move away, Mindy and Brody are gonna eat alone.”

“Okay,” I whispered but didn’t move.

We both stood there staring at each other unmoving in the cold night air on his porch.

His mouth twitched and he murmured his prompt, “Duchess.”

I jumped and pulled away, mumbling, “Right.”

He slung his arm around my shoulders and walked me to the passenger side of the Cherokee beeping the locks as he went. He opened my door and waited for me to pull myself in before he closed my door again.

I was buckling up and Max was rounding the hood when I realized he’d helped me with my coat and he’d opened my door.

I was in trouble. Wonder Max was getting even more wonderful, something I didn’t think was possible but there it was, all around me.

Drat.

Max got in, buckled in, started the truck and backed out. We were out of the lane and on our way and I was trying to pull myself together, remember all the reasons why Max equaled future disaster for me. I’d thought it through at lunch and I remembered I’d been pretty convinced. However, an amazing orgasm and Max’s brand of flattery seemed to have built an invisible wall against my mind travelling down that path.

Max’s hand found mine and his fingers laced through it, tugging it toward him and again resting the back of it against his hard thigh.

“Brody seems nice,” I said into the silence, suddenly wanting it filled so I wasn’t stuck in my head.

“He is,” Max replied and shared no further.

“How long have you two been friends?”

“Long’s I can remember,” Max answered. “He lived next to us while I was growin’ up. His Mom and Dad got divorced, his Dad moved away, remarried. His Mom remarried too, had Mindy and his Mom and stepdad still live next to my Mom.”

“Oh.”

He let my fingers go but, strangely, turned my hand and pressed the palm into his thigh, curling my fingers around its muscled contour. I pulled in a silent breath at this intimate gesture as he downshifted to take the turn, gained speed then his hand came back to mine and his fingers laced through.

I understood it then. This was Max’s way of telling me he didn’t want me to pull my hand away when he had to let me go.

Yes, I was right, Max was becoming more wonderful and I was in trouble.

I swallowed and out of nowhere thoughts assailed me. His sister telling me he was a player. His unfathomable relationship with Shauna. His talented hand between my legs. His inability or perhaps unwillingness to share important facts about his life.

And this last leading me to remember the photograph of him and Anna on their wedding day.

All of this reminding me that Max had once been married and bringing to mind the fact that, for what I deduced was a good while, he had not.

However, it was my guess and Kami’s insinuation that he had been busy.

None of which he’d shared with me but all of which he’d demanded I share with him.

“There were pictures in Bitsy’s house,” I blurted as he stopped at the intersection to the main road, his hand flattened mine on his thigh again and he looked to the left and right, waiting for his opportunity to turn.

“Yeah?” he asked distractedly and I slid my hand way.

He stopped looking left and right, his head twisted to me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it back and pressing it against his thigh.

His voice was soft when he explained, “I like your touch, honey.”

I left my hand where it was because I liked his explanation probably better than he liked my touch. I did this even though my protective instinct was waking up and it was likely I did it not only because I liked his explanation but I also liked touching him.

His attention went back to the road, he found his opening, turned right and after he’d gained our cruising speed, his fingers laced in mine again.

“There were pictures of you,” I went back to my topic and Max’s hand squeezed mine.

“Not surprised,” Max replied off-handedly. “Bitsy likes photos and I’ve known her a long time.”

“How long?”

“Since school.”

“She a friend that long?”

“Yeah.”

“There was a picture of you and Curtis Dodd,” I told him. “It looked like you were friends.”