When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(74)

Max’s mouth caught hers in another rough kiss, while he used his foot to hook a nearby chair and drag it closer. Pulling Lysette to the edge of the table, he sat and buried his mouth in the delicate folds of her cleft, his tongue searching hungrily for her intimate flavor. She bit her lip to restrain an involuntary cry, her body jerking upward into the devastating heat of his mouth. Helplessly she ran her fingers through the thick black locks of his hair, gasping as his tongue slid inside her.

“Max? Are you in there? Why is the door locked?” Alexandre’s muffled voice came through the door, and the handle clicked and rattled. Freezing, Lysette shot a horrified glance toward the sound. When it became clear that Max did not intend to respond, she tugged his head upward.

Although Max’s breathing was no less rapid than her own, he answered his brother in a voice that sounded remarkably normal. “Go away, Alex.”

“I want a drink.”

Max slid two fingers into the intimate channel of Lysette’s body, and she flushed deeply.

“Get your liquor from the kitchen,” he told his brother tersely.

“But my special brandy is in there,” Alexandre complained. “If you just let me in for a moment, I’ll get it and leave—”

“Alex, my wife and I are having a dispute. She’s about to start throwing things.” Max’s long fingers twisted gently, causing Lysette to gasp in pleasure. “Trust me, you don’t want to be in the line of fire.” Lowering his head, he drew his tongue over the rosy peak of her sex in strokes that corresponded to the thrusts of his fingers. Lysette covered her mouth with her hand to hold in her moans. His rhythm quickened, his mouth tender and demanding, his fingers reaching unbelievably deep inside her.

She barely heard Alex’s final words. “Lysette, if you’re arguing with my brother concerning his remarks to Gregoire at supper, I am completely on your side.”

“Th-thank you,” she managed to say, her stomach tightening.

“Bon soir,“ he said glumly, and left.

Max added a third finger to the ones already inside her, and began to suckle her aching flesh with quick, smooth tugs. Lysette sobbed as a cl**ax rolled through her, blinding and dark and fierysweet, pulsing through her in relentless waves. As she shivered in the aftermath, Max pressed her flat on the table, keeping her legs spread on either side of his hips. His face was gleaming with perspiration, his eyes smoldering. He pushed inside her slowly, gently courting her swollen flesh until she had engulfed every inch of him. He gripped her bare h*ps and manipulated her in a rhythm that dragged her back and forth across the table, her silk gown sliding easily over the polished wood. Lysette wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the pleasure rose again, building with each plunge of his hard shaft. She convulsed in a second cl**ax, and he followed her with a muted groan, his big body shuddering over hers.

Lysette gradually came to her senses, finding herself pinned between the hard table and the weight of her husband’s head on her chest. His breath came in swift rushes that teased her nipple. Completely drained of strength, her body replete with luxurious sensation, she lifted her hand to stroke his hair.

“Who won the argument?” she asked languidly.

She felt Max smile against her breast. “Oh, yes, the argument.” He nuzzled her flushed skin and traced his tongue from one golden freckle to another. “Shall we call this one an even match?”

Purring her approval, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

———

Max was occasionally a difficult man to live with, but Lysette never doubted her ability to match him. He had become everything to her: friend, lover, protector, a source of excitement, a comforting sanctuary. There were times when Lysette felt the only safe place in the world was in his arms. And there were other times when Max would dispel any illusion of safety. He could be devilishly patient, taking hours to coax her into a state of sensual madness… or he could be reckless and wild, setting every nerve on fire and consuming her in the blaze.

To Lysette’s delight, Max showed no hesitation in taking her everywhere with him, even when he was conducting business. Taking an interest in his shipping business, she frequently accompanied him to the New Orleans waterfront, where the keelboats and barges were so numerous that one could walk a mile across their decks. When one of the Vallerand ocean trading vessels came into port, laden with goods from Europe and the tropics, she went aboard with him while the cargo was being inspected and unloaded.

Max left Lysette in the care of an officer while he went below with the captain to examine some waterdamaged goods. While she stood at the rail of the high-sided frigate, watching the crew of a nearby flatboat unloading the boxes and supplies of a the-atrical troupe, many of the frigate’s crew gathered around her at a respectful distance. Sensing their gazes, she turned and stared curiously at the swarthy group. They were a dirty, brawny lot, dressed in strange, loose clothing, their shirts fastened by pegs of wood thrust through the buttonholes. The tops of their shoes had been cut off, leaving only two or three lace holes.

“Don’t be afraid, ma’am,” the first officer said. “They just want to look at you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Oh, they ain’t seen a woman for well nigh a month.”

Lysette gave them an uncertain smile, which caused the crew to murmur appreciatively. Gesturing to their feet curiously, she asked in English what had happened to their shoes, as the tops had been removed and the lace holes stitched together.