No, he shouldn’t. His chest clenched. A man with the ruined wings of a fallen angel tattooed on his back was exactly the wrong sort of person to become an absolute dictator.
“At the very least,” Dree said, her gaze darting as she looked into his eyes, “you have to make sure it’s someone other than this Prince Jules guy, and make sure it’s someone kind and good, and not someone who’s an evil, racist, bigoted jerk.”
Maxence couldn’t speak.
Sault glared at him from over by the front desk, and the left-side soldier was watching them with wide eyes while his gun pointed at the inn’s front door.
Dree touched his chin and guided his gaze back to her. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep yet one more evil dictator away from the world, even if I have to do iton my back.”
He touched her cheek as tremors thrummed through his veins. “Dree.”
She said, “Or lying face-down on a bed.”
The image of her curvy ass in the air as he stroked into her made him lightheaded. “Dree.Stop.”
“Oron—”
She exaggerated the succulent movements of her mouth as her plush lips pressed together.
“—my—”
Her nose wrinkled as her tongue licked into view behind her teeth.
“—knees.”
Maxence grabbed her up in his arms and dragged her to his mouth to kiss her, his lips devouring hers, because the thought of her lips tight around his cock was enough to bring him tohisknees.
She kissed him back, her arms tight around his neck.
His hands ran down the curves of her back to her pinched waist, and he pushed her back. Her lips were swollen, red, and wet, and her eyes were as dazed as his must be. She asked, “So, you’ll do it?”
“Because you want me to, not because of what you bargained with,” he said.
“I want to do that, too.”
He dug his fingers into her hips, just curving his fingertips.
She smiled at him.
“Let’s go,” Quentin Sault said. “I’ve got a helicopter waiting. We can be in Monaco by tomorrow morning.”
A man cleared his throat on the stairs above them.
Maxence turned his head.
Above them, on the landing five steps up, Isaak and Batsa stood and were watching them.
Isaak’s expression was as plastic and emotionless as Max had ever seen him, but Batsa’s eyes and mouth were wide and round. In just a second, he’d probably gasp and point at them.
Maxence swiveled his hand closer to Dree’s waist because he was nearly grabbing her ass.
“Guys,” Maxence said and stopped. He was going to say something like,It’s not what it looks like,but it was even worse than it looked, especially if you included where he’d been the previous night.
Isaak said, “We’ll notify Alfonso and Father Booker that you’ve decided to return to Monaco and that you’re taking Andrea Catherine with you.”
“This mission is over,” Maxence said to him.
“Yes, surely,” Isaak said, his tone very neutral.
