He covered her like a blanket, enveloping her in his strength. He held her down, controlled the pace. Controlled her responses. And she was happy to let him, here in this bed. She’d lost control of her life, of her heart, and nothing had ever felt so right.
She tried to remember each delicious slide. Every exquisite tremor Max created in her body. And prayed they wouldn’t be her last memories of him. Because she could no longer keep her treachery a secret. He deserved to know.
He thrust faster, his breaths coming in short heaves. His frenzy, his need for her, drove her own passion higher. That a man like Max could want her was something she’d always cherish. Her body coiled tight, all of her muscles clamping down. Max’s pace faltered before redoubling with effort and pounding back home.
Burying her face in the sheets, Colleen let out a strangled gasp and went over the edge. Pleasure rippled outward from her core, shaking her body.
Max cursed. He pulled out and ground into her lower back, groaning. Liquid heat splashed across her skin, reminiscent of the fire that had seared her flesh.
He rolled to his side, pulling Colleen with him, holding her close. Their skin cooled and their breathing slowed.
Max kissed her neck. “That never gets old, does it?”
She laced her fingers with his, palm to palm, and held his hand over her heart. She brushed her lips over his knuckles. “No.” And it never would. Colleen swallowed, the back of her throat burning. “I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you earlier. But I’ve been scared.”
Brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek, Max held her tighter. “You have nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“It’s not that type of scary.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her heart pounded painfully behind her breast, and she almost changed her mind. But it wasn’t fair to Max. He needed to know the truth.
“You didn’t kill my husband, Max,” she whispered. “I did.”
She waited, motionless as a rock, her pulse racing. He didn’t respond. Colleen bit her lip. He must not have heard. She opened her mouth to repeat it, but Max moved first. Jumping to his hands and knees, he flipped her to her back.
He stared down at her, his face expressionless. “Say that again.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, it wasn’t like that.” Clutching his wrist, she held on tight. The words tumbled from her mouth. “My husband was supposed to be gone that night, spending the evening with some friends. I was in our office when I smelled the smoke. The chandlery and our clock shop shared a backyard. I went outside and saw the fire.”
Max sat back on his haunches, a horrible resignation creeping over his face.
She dug her fingers into his skin. “I heard calls for the bucket brigade. Knew they’d be there shortly to put out the flames. And for a moment, I wished it was our shop that was burning. That it was all those clocks going up in flames. So, when I ran back inside and my hip knocked an oil lamp from the desk, I didn’t react at first. I just stared as the flames spread across the floor. Then the curtains caught, and the fire seemed to be everywhere. I escaped outside. My husband wasn’t supposed to be home,” she repeated. “I didn’t call up to warn him. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“But you did.” Jerking from her grip, Max rubbed his wrist. As if trying to remove her mark.
“It happened so fast.” She swallowed as blood pounded behind her temples. “You don’t know how stifling my life was. I felt like I was being buried alive, buried under the weight of all those clocks. I hated that shop. But I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just thought that, finally, God was answering my prayers.”
Max rolled off the bed and gathered his clothes. He tugged on his trousers, his movements jerky. “I wondered how the fire could have spread. I thought there must have been a gust of wind I didn’t account for. Something I’d missed. This makes more sense.”
Colleen crawled to the edge of the mattress. “My husband came home early. His friend later told me he had been complaining of a headache. I never knew.” Every night she thought how things would have been different if she’d only yelled, woken him from his slumber. If she hadn’t waited those long seconds watching the fire eat across her office, if she’d tried to smother the flames.
“I reckon that makes it all right then.”
She twisted the sheets in her fingers. “I never said it was all right.”
The muscles in Max’s back bunched as he pulled on his shirt.
“Look at me,” Colleen begged. There was no way the kind man who’d rubbed the sting from her sore feet, who’d made sure she had employment, and a roof over her head, there was no wayhecould turn from her now. Not when they’d come to mean so much to each other.
But when Max looked up at her, it was the face of a man Colleen didn’t recognize who met her gaze.
“I’ll have one of my men return you to the club. You’ve performed in an exemplary manner as manager of The Black Rose.” Striding to the wall, Max rang for a servant. “You’re welcome to remain in that capacity as long as you wish.”
Pain stabbed into her stomach and she bent double, her forehead hitting her knees. “I thought—” She broke off and gasped for air. “I thought you’d understand.”
“I do understand.”
She looked up, a seed of hope taking root. Max smiled politely and handed Colleen her clothes.
Everything in her withered and died.
