“Not that kind of love.” A drop of rain plopped on the dirt in front of Max. Then another. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. He’d never been a fan of the rain. “I’ve only seen the same mad fervor twice before, when I was in Hindustan. Both times I was facing a phanseegur. A thug who would do anything for his goddess, Kali.”
Dropping into a squat, Max made quick work of checking the man’s pockets. Found nothing. “He was willing to do absolutely anything for his master. For Zed. And that presents us with a huge problem.”
Stomach rolling, he stood and faced his friends. Max clenched his chilled fingers into balls. “If Zed can convince people death is preferable to betrayal, we don’t stand a shot in hell of ever turning his men.”
Chapter Eight
Colleen was putting the final figure down on the next month’s budget when she heard his footsteps on the stairs. She looked at her open office door, her heart pounding at the thought of seeing Max alone. It was a wonder that she even recognized his step when he usually walked so silently. He could move like smoke, his footsteps surprisingly light for such a large man. But something was different tonight. He trudged up the stairs like the weight of the world was yoked to his shoulders.
She half-stood, her body wanting to hurry to him, to ensure he was all right, before her better sense prevailed and she sat back down. He was a member of the nobility. Her employer. A man she had encouraged into indecent liberties. None of those factors were reason enough to justify such familiarity. Well, perhaps that last one. But she still couldn’t quite sort out how she felt about their moments in the carriage, much less wonder at how the baron’s feelings on their relationship might have changed.
Sliding her paperwork into a folder, she stacked it on the pile in the corner of her desk. When he appeared in the doorway, everything was neat and tidy, including her emotions.
She drank him in, relieved to see he appeared whole and hale if not a bit weary. His thick, dark hair was damp and his shoulders sagged, but nothing appeared amiss that a meal in front of a warm fire wouldn’t fix. “Good evening, my lord. Is there something I can do for you?” Colleen sat up straight, pleased with how professional she sounded to the man who made her feel anything but.
One side of Max’s lips curled up, a hint of a smile lighting his eyes, and Colleen ran those words through her head again. And flushed. Perhaps there had been something other than professional sounding about them, after all.
“For the club, I mean,” she stammered. “Is there anything you need me to do for the club?”
Sinking into the chair across from her, Max stretched out his long legs and stared at the ceiling. “I already know, if there’s something that needs to be done at The Black Rose, you’d have already thought of it.” He sighed.
Colleen fiddled with her pencil. She shouldn’t ask. She wanted to return to the business relationship they’d had before she’d botched everything up and that meant not asking personal questions. But he looked like he’d just lost a puppy. The words refused to stay put in her throat. “Are you all right, my lord? You look … sad.”
He lifted his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m neither sad nor happy. Just had a tiring day.”
“Oh.” Touching a hand to the knot at the back of her head, she made sure her hair was still in place. “Are you here …” She cleared her throat. “Would you like me to set up a room for you and one of our girls?”Please say no. “Several of the women are most eager to work with you again.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Work with me? Is that what you call it?” Stretching his arms to the ceiling, Max cracked his neck, linked his fingers together, and rested his hands on top of his head. “I assure you, Colleen, that playing with me is never a chore.”
She swallowed. Why did he have to call her Colleen? Her given name was for stolen moments in a carriage. Not for two people of business in an office. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No.” Uncoiling from his seat, he prowled around the desk and cocked a hip against it. His thigh brushed her forearm, and with regret, she drew back. “No, I don’t suppose you did,” he said. He rested a palm on the back of her chair and bent close. “I would love to play with fire tonight. If any day needed to be burned from memory, today is that day.”
Her stomach knotted. He was going to touch another woman. Give her the pleasure he’d bestowed on Colleen only hours earlier. The back of her eyes burned, and she cursed herself. Why should she be upset? She’d made the decision to return to their professional relationship. She’d given herself one illicit moment that she could look back upon and treasure. One moment where she’d been impulsive and carefree. A woman in her position didn’t deserve more than that.
He traced the curve of her cheekbone with his index finger. “But I don’t want to play with just any woman. I want you.”
Her jaw dropped. The pounding of her heart sounded unnaturally loud to her ears. Surely, he could hear it. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.” He plucked the pins from her hair, one by one, laying each one on the desk in a neat row. Her hair fell in one thick coil down her back, and Max used both of his hands to shake it loose. Cradling her head in his palms, he drew her to a stand. “You don’t need to be scared. I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes slid half-shut, the feel of his strong fingers kneading her skull enough to put her in a trance. Each and every time Max had handled her had brought pleasure. Even when he’d dripped wax on her wrist. Especially then. That pinpoint of heat on her damp skin had been surprisingly delicious. A shiver rolled down her spine at the memory.
Another memory intruded, bringing with it the scent of burning wood. She’d been fascinated with that fire, too. The flames licking up the sides of her old home had been beautiful, entrancing in its destructive power when she’d thought all that burned was an empty building. The thought of harnessing fire for pleasure was a heady one. She understood Max’s attraction to fire all too well. But it was also terrifying. Her stomach churned. Some forces couldn’t be controlled.
“I don’t”—she shook her head—“I’m not that kind of woman.” How many times had she said that phrase before and meant something entirely different? When Lord Halliwell had asked her to play, and she’d sniffed in disdain, it was because she hadn’t wanted to be one ofthosewomen. Loose morals. No self-respect.
Tonight, the phrase had changed, the words filled with regret. She wasn’t the kind of woman who pushed her limits, stared down her fears. No matter how much she might wish she were.
“You can be any kind of woman you want.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath flashing hot against her cheek. “Please, Colleen. I need this. Need you. There’s no one else I want.”
She bit her lip. His mouth was so close to hers, she only needed to tilt her head, move an inch, and she’d be there. A strand from his beard tickled her jaw, and she remembered how exciting it had been to burrow her fingers in deep and press her lips to his.
She bit back a whimper. She wanted this. Wanted him. But it couldn’t be right. Anything that she wanted as badly as this had to be a sin. Gripping the lapels of his coat, she clenched her fists tight.
He grazed his lips over her cheek. Angling her head, Max licked around the rim of her ear, his wet tongue burning a fiery path. The heat settled low, melting her core, making her wet with need. When he sucked her lobe between his lips, she gave up the fight. Decided to trust her body to Max’s care.
If this was a sin, it at least didn’t hurt anyone but herself. She nodded, barely moving, but Max felt it.
