Therefore, not giving him the chance to change his mind, I called, “Goodnight.”
“’Night, Duchess,” he called back, draping his coat on a dining room chair and not looking at me.
I turned and hurried as fast as my tired feet would take me up the stairs.
I rooted my stuff out of my suitcase, washed and moisturized my face in the bathroom, brushed my teeth and changed into my nightgown. I left my stuff in the bathroom, deciding I’d pack it in the morning.
I opened the door, checked if the coast was clear, and then hurried to the bed.
Even as tired as I was, the lights were on downstairs; Amazing Looking Max was in the house; he’d bought me dinner, a hot fudge sundae and at least four beers during what seemed a lot like a date even though we came home together, and it was a date I enjoyed, even when we were clashing or, maybe, especially when we were clashing, so I didn’t expect sleep to come quickly.
I was asleep within minutes. Out like a light.
That was why I didn’t feel Max sliding into bed beside me fifteen minutes later.
Chapter Four
The Bluff
I woke up, my eyes opening and I registered immediately firstly, that it was the dead of night, dark with a hint of moonlight and secondly, that I was awake like I was ready to take on the day. This was likely because if I was at home I would already be up, taking on the day.
Then I registered that I didn’t have my head on a pillow. Against my cheek I could feel sleek skin and hard muscle. It hit me that I had my head on Max’s shoulder, my torso was part on him, part pressed to his side, my arm was resting across his belly and my knee was cocked, my thigh thrown over his. His arm was under me and up my back, his hand resting at my waist.
Oh my God.
I didn’t speculate about what he was doing there, I just thought about getting away.
I rolled to my back and then to my side, wondering if I could get my car keys out of his jeans and my suitcase to the car without waking him up.
I slid partly across the bed but I felt movement then a strong arm hooked around my belly. A soft, surprised gasp escaped from my mouth when I was hauled back. I hit the wall of his warm, hard frame and Max leaned his chest into me, cocking a knee, taking mine with it so his heavy thigh was resting against mine.
“Max,” I whispered.
No answer.
“Max,” I whispered louder.
“Mm?”
Then I felt his face in my hair and my body froze as his hand slid up my belly and his fingers curled around my breast.
I sucked in breath and held myself still. He didn’t move or say anything more.
“Max,” I whispered and his name was barely a murmur as evidently my voice was frozen too.
Again, no answer except the heavy weight of him settled deeper in my back.
He was asleep but he hadn’t let go of my breast.
I could, and should, lurch out of his arms and escape him and his house, maybe throwing a tantrum between the former and the latter.
He had no business detaining me, keeping my car keys, bossing me around, crawling into bed with me while I slept, even if he had nursed me back to health and made me oatmeal.
But I’d never been held like this, not in my whole life, and I couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt good. So. Very. Good. To be held, in bed, in the arms of tall, strong, handsome man. Unbelievable.
And it was more than that. I tried not to think about it, to let it penetrate my brain but, in Max’s bed, in his arms, I not only (obviously) wasn’t alone, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt warm, safe, protected with his big body cocooning mine. And it felt good.
In fact, since I walked into his A-Frame, except for the time I spent in the backseat of the rental, I hadn’t felt lonely. Not in the times I woke up during my illness when Max was there or even when he wasn’t and knowing he was close. Not even yesterday when I was alone. It had been a long time since I felt that safe contentment of knowing my solitude would be fleeting, gone before the wretched loneliness settled back in.
And it was more than even that. His hand at my breast, his leg cocked into mine, it felt sexy and it made me feel sexy. I hadn’t felt that way in awhile, a long while, too long and I missed it.
Niles and I, when we first met, had a healthy relationship in every aspect. But once I said yes to marriage for some reason that changed. The sex came less and less frequently until now it’d been months since we’d been intimate. More than a few months. In fact, way too many.
Niles and I didn’t live together. He liked his modern three bedroom flat in Bristol with its view of the river. He could walk to work from there and practically anywhere else he needed to go.