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“Technically true,” he agreed. “I’ve been trying to get my head around it, Gwen. I have. I just had things to deal with first.”
My eyebrows rose. “Like what?”
“Hospital debts, for one,” he said. “I was paying them the best I could, but I was never going to do it on my own. Devon was right about that. So I paid them all off with the money. I’d dropped all of my therapy, too, because of the cost, and I fixed that. There were also still debts from when my father died two years ago.” He looked away from me and out the window. “He was a drunk, and a gambler, and he left things a mess. It’s taken me some time to sort through everything and pay it off, since my mother died a long time ago. Then there were the costs and lawyer fees from my father’s estate, which were a disaster. So forgive me if, while I was dealing with all that shit, I still lived in the same crappy apartment and went to the same crappy bar.”
My chest was tight. “Jesus, Max.”
He shrugged. “It’s done.” He seemed to think it over. “I guess I could get a haircut.”
I tried to think of a single man I’d ever dated who would react to five million dollars this way. I felt like I’d been dating men from another planet. “What is it about you?” I asked him. “Every time I meet you, I learn something I didn’t already know. Even if I learn it from Devon.”
Max shook his head. “He did that on purpose,” he said. “Told you about the money, and whatever else he told you. I think he’s fucking with both of us, but mostly me.”
“He’s worried about you, I think,” I said.
“I’m used to that.” He ran a hand through his hair again, and now it was so mussed that I couldn’t stand it anymore. As the limo inched through the traffic leaving the city, I kicked off my shoes and moved across the back seat, settling in a straddle on his lap.
“Oh, hell,” he said, but it was half a sigh, and I felt his muscles relax.
I had to pull my dress up almost to my hips to free up my legs, and as soon as I felt his big, hard, warm thighs under me I did what I was most dying to do: I leaned forward and kissed him.
He tasted so good, like malt and something a little bit sweet, and I felt the rush of it all through my body. In minutes we were making out like teenagers, his tongue brushing mine, one of his hands on the back of my neck, the other sliding up under my dress and over my hip. I dug my fingers into his soft hair and bit his lip as I broke the kiss. “Did you miss me?” I panted into his mouth.
“Nope,” he said.
“Good. Me neither,” I said, and kissed him again.
As it always did, everything melted away when I was with Max. All of my jitteriness, my uncertainty, the knots I tied myself in—everything. I was drunk on him, boneless and happy as one of his big hands cupped my breast through my dress. This was going to go very dirty, very fast. Part of me wanted it to. Who would know, after all? People probably fucked in limos all the time. And I wanted Max to fuck me in one. I wanted Max to fuck me anywhere.
But I also wanted control this time, so I reached between us, unzipped his pants, and ran the palm of my hand over his cock.
“Fuck,” he growled against my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Just sit still,” I told him as I pulled his cock from his boxer briefs. “I have a present for you.” I slid my hand up him, rubbing the head, and then down again.
“Gwen,” he said, jumping beneath me like I’d given him an electric shock. God, I loved it when I got that reaction.
I gently sucked his lower lip, feeling the roughness of his beard, as I did it again. “You don’t like it?” I teased.
He groaned against me. “Fuck, woman.”
I stroked him again, feeling every twitch of his big body beneath mine, and I had one crazy, possessive thought: Mine. This hot, complicated man was all mine, and I wanted to hear it. “What was it you said about not having a woman since Afghanistan?”
His teeth grazed the side of my neck. “I tell you stupid things when we fight. Fuck. Do that harder.”
I did, but I slowed down, savoring it. Savoring him. Not just the torture I was giving him, but the pleasure. I’d never liked pleasing a man before I met Max, I realized. It had always felt like I’d lost something that the man had won. But pleasing Max was nothing like that—it was hot and incredibly fucking rewarding.
There was some come on him now, and it made my hand slick. As if reading my mind, he reached up and cupped the side of my head in his hand, looking into my eyes as I pumped him. “You still think we’re a mistake?” he growled.
I couldn’t do anything but tell him the truth. “No,” I admitted. “I never thought that.”
I stroked him again, and I watched the pure pleasure darken his eyes. “Quit stripping,” he said.
“I can’t,” I panted.
“Gwen,” he said, his voice pure blackness. “Quit your fucking job.”
God, he was killing me. “I’ll explain later,” I said. “Just come first.”
