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At that moment, he brushed his thumb against her clitoris again, and she growled. Frustration and irritation combined, heightening her senses. Her blood raced through her veins, heating her from within.
“Maxwell.”
“I know I’m in trouble when you use my full name.”
Max massaged her breast while he tortured her with his other hand. Her juices poured over his hand as her arousal grew. The pressure built, and tension drew tighter. Before Anna could break free, Max moved away from her, sitting down in the tub, pulling her on top of him. Anna sat facing him, straddling his lap.
“Shit.”
The frustration in his voice was unmistakable. Max reached outside the tub and retrieved a condom. After ripping it open, he threw the wrapper aside and rolled it on. A moment later, Anna was sliding down his hard shaft. He held her hips, digging his fingers into her skin. The water sluiced over them as he set the rhythm slower than she wanted.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he took one turgid nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping. Heat surged through her blood. She moaned instead of complaining as his teeth scraped over the end of one nipple. Her every thought centered on the feel of his shaft thrusting into her, his tongue twirling around the tip of her nipple. The pressure built, the need to reach the pinnacle consumed her every action. Her stomach muscles tightened and quivered.
His hands moved from her hips to her hair, tangling in the mass of wet curls, tugging her down for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past her lips. She increased her speed as her tongue danced with his.
God, nothing had ever tasted as good as Max in the morning. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slid through her. His hands clenched tighter in her hair, and he threw back his head, moaning her name. Seeing him in the throes of his orgasm drove her over the edge. Anna exploded, her inner muscles clamping around his shaft, pulling him deeper. His fingers dug into her flesh, but she barely noticed. Every muscle in her body quivered as her release swept over her.
Moments later, Anna collapsed against him. Max grunted and relaxed against the back of the tub. He pushed the mass of heavy curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. The tender action was almost her undoing, but the words she’d wanted to say for the past ten years stuck in her throat. Even men who liked to cuddle didn’t appreciate declarations of love—no matter how good the sex was.
When she spoke, Anna deliberately kept her tone light. “I think I’ll hire you if that’s what you call a back scrub.”
His chuckle echoed in the bathroom, and Anna bit back the disappointment as she stifled her emotions. It did neither of them any good wishing for things that would never happen.
* * *
Later that morning, Max walked down the hall to his office, his step a bit lighter than usual. He’d stopped by his house on the way to work for a shave and a change of clothes, but his shower with Anna earlier occupied his thoughts. Each time Max replayed how it felt to slip into her warm, moist body, all the blood he had in his brain rushed to his dick.
There was still a lot to resolve with Anna. She didn’t trust men. Sometime in her senior year in high school, something had gone wrong. She’d changed. It hadn’t been just the typical young woman moving into adulthood changes, but one that turned her slightly more cynical than many women her age. He’d seen it in her expression, the way she dealt with men. And, being a typical man, he’d never really asked. She’d shied away from questions like that just as she did the night before. He had her trust on one level. She wouldn’t have allowed him to control things in bed if she didn’t trust him. Still, it would take a lot to convince her to have faith in him. But he was the man for the job.
By the time Max reached the door to his outer office, he was whistling. He’d passed a few people who did a double take as they walked by. Maxwell Chandler didn’t walk down the hall with a smile. He chuckled to himself. Max hadn’t felt this good in…well…forever. It was as if he could do no wrong, and nothing terrible would happen.
He opened the door, stepped into his outer office, and stopped cold. Cynthia sat on the sofa, dressed to the hilt in a pink linen suit, every blonde hair in place and her nose buried in a tissue.
She jumped up the moment he walked through the door. “I need to talk to you, Max.”
Max looked at his secretary, Jeanine, who rolled her eyes. She’d been in charge of contacting the country club and the caterers to work out the reneging on the contracts for the wedding, so she knew what had happened yesterday. He got the idea from her joy in the act that Jeanine hadn’t been that happy with his selection of brides. He was beginning to wonder if anyone had been.
He glanced at his watch. “Okay, but I have a meeting soon, so it will have to be short.”
Cynthia smiled and glided past him. Max didn’t know what she wanted, but he knew it couldn’t be good.
As he followed her into his inner office, the scent of her perfume left him feeling slightly nauseated. He preferred Anna’s lilac soap.
“What do you want, Cynthia? I have a full day ahead of me.” And, if there was a God, a full night of loving Anna.
He waited for guilt to hit him. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was engaged to Cynthia, and he was fantasizing about another woman in front of her. Still, she’s the one who broke it off. He didn’t owe her anything.
Cynthia shifted from one foot to the other, then set her purse on his desk. She glanced past him. He glanced back and saw Jeanine peeking around the corner. He bit back a chuckle and shut the door in her face. Her irritated sigh could be heard through the door.
“Now, tell me what you want.”
Her lips turned up in that practiced smile of hers that irritated him.
“Well, after thinking about it, Max, I’ve decided that maybe I was too hasty when I called off our wedding yesterday.”
six
Max staredat Cynthia and blinked. Did she say what he thought she said? There was no way she broke off their engagement yesterday just to show up today and say ‘psyche’.
