He had to know that carrying me brought back very sexual memories. Hot, sensual, orgasmic memories that included his tongue licking its way up my inner thigh, his hands pinching my nipples, his thick cock hammering me from behind.
Oh God. No. No. No. You’re not getting horny. You’re simply remembering how good he felt sliding between your legs. So, so hard. So, so good.
I shook it off quickly.
“Put me down, Max.” My body bounced on his shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions and wasn’t helping my light-headedness.
“Stop whining, Lily.” He gave my ass a hard slap and the sting sent an instantaneous, scorching arousal between my legs. I wasn’t into pain, but he’d slapped my ass on that special night in his bedroom. I would never forget the sting that initiated the most erotic weekend of my life.
I gritted my teeth and pushed my lids together nice and tight. This was exactly my point. I couldn’t be around Max and not…not…want him. But I didn’t want to be one of those stupid girls who knew a relationship was completely doomed, but jumped in anyway, only to whine like an idiot after it all went south.
Finally at the top, Max tilted forward and slid me off.
Gripping my shoulders, he looked down at me and flashed a cocky smile. Oh yes. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“That was dirty, Max.”
He looked over my shoulder, ignoring my comment. “There’s Callahan. Shall we?” He held out his elbow.
I marched ahead, unable to look at him. I was so goddamned turned on, but my heart didn’t want this. It didn’t want to play this game any longer.
The ride back to my “unacceptable apartment,” as Max called it, took only a few minutes, but as far as my body was concerned, it felt like an eternity of sexual torture. Thankfully, Max had put on a black T-shirt to cover those drool-provoking washboard abs, but the smell of his expensive cologne and fresh sweat permeated the car, only fueling the intimate memories with my ex-boss.
As I prepared to deliver a very firm goodbye-for-forever speech, the town car pulled up to the curb in front of my complex—a two-story, 1960s Spanish-style building with a red tile roof, white stucco exterior, and arched windows and doorways. Max’s expression turned from serious to surprised.
My gaze followed the direction of his stare through the windshield. “Crap.” They were back. Only this time, instead of one news crew, there were six.
“What the hell is going on?” I groaned. Didn’t they have wars and election email scandals to report on?
“Hmmm…this is unfortunate.” Max grinned as if he’d won some giant victory. “I guess you’ll have to come back to my hotel.”
“Nice try.”
“Only trying to help,” he said with smug amusement.
“If you want to help, how about staying away?” The reporters wanted him or Patricio, not me. “All of my clothes are inside, and I have to open the shop in forty minutes.”
Max’s smile melted away.
“What?” I asked.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“No kidding. I have a mob of reporters stalking my home.” Well, screw them! I had nothing to be ashamed of and that included my scars, my love life, or my past.
I pulled the handle of the car door, and Max tugged me back by the shoulder. “Wait. Let me deal with them. They’ll probably go away if I give them a statement.” He slid out of his side of the car.
Mr. Fearless. Seriously, aside from his little “issue,” nothing scared the man. It was very hot.
I watched Max’s lean, tall frame make confident strides towards the pack of wolves, who immediately spotted him and swarmed. I could only see the top of his head from my vantage point, but it struck me as odd that he stood there for all of five seconds before returning to the car with the reporters on his heels.
He opened the door and slid inside. “Drive,” he ordered Callahan, who obeyed without question.
“What’s going on?” My racing heart told me I was not going to like it.
Max’s dark brows shrugged, and he let out a breath.
“What!” I demanded.
With a calmness that terrified me, he looked out the window. “I suggest you come back to the hotel with me.” There wasn’t an ounce of flirt, fun, or cockiness in his voice this time.
“Why? What happened?” I growled.
He slid his cell from his shorts pocket, tapped a few times on the screen, and handed it to me.
I took the phone in my hands and gazed at the image of Patricio naked, having sex with another woman.
“What?” I covered my mouth. “This can’t be real.”
“Let’s get you somewhere private, and we’ll figure it out together.” Max reached out and placed his hand on my thigh. “I’m sorry, Lily. This isn’t right.”
As I would expect, Max had the most incredible bungalow at the most expensive hotel in town, the Four Seasons. Private pool and patio with outdoor fireplace, gorgeous furnishings, full living room and dining room. Quiet. Secluded. Perfect. So Max.