The intensity of his gaze didn’t let up. The man in front of her was pretty much the opposite of laid-back Max.
“You attend evenings like this with Alya,” he said, pressing her. “Why is this different?”
“Alya is my sister. I know she’d never—” Natasha stopped, midsentence.She’d never what?It took a minute to sort out the rest of her thought. Her sister would never do anything at Natasha’s expense. Alya would always protect her, the way Natasha would always be there for her sister. The way their mother hadn’t. Illana Petrova had been too far down the rabbit hole of her own drama to have time for a thirteen-year-old’s insecurities. “She’d never leave me exposed.”
Max seemed to be hanging onto every word she said. He nodded slowly. The living room was quiet, just the sounds of Max’s breathing, the slide of his fingers over her pajamas and the thump of her heart.
“No matter what happens between us, I would never leave you exposed,” he said, breaking the silence. “Please trust me on that.”
She looked into his beautiful blue eyes, so achingly serious. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this man.
“Can I get back to reminding you why this is all worth your while?” he asked, his lips brushing against her neck.
She took a deep breath and nodded. God, she still wanted him, no matter what crazy thoughts or hang-ups scrolled through her head. “My sister will be back soon.”
“Does that mean yes, please, move faster?”
She smiled and shook her head. “It means let’s go to my room.”
Holy hell.
Max was in Natasha’s room, with its carefully organized shelves and her neatly made bed. White walls, sparsely decorated with a cluster of photos. One of Alya and her as kids. One on a beach with friends or colleagues, diving gear off to the side. One with another group of friends, piled in a car... There were so many parts of Natasha’s life he didn’t know about, so many things he wanted to know. There was also a photo of a couple, and Max recognized the woman: her mother. Was that her father, too? Under the photo arrangement was a low shelf, filled with thick novels. He pulled one out. Science fiction—at least it appeared to be from the cover. Was that what she liked to read?
Beyond the photos and the books, there wasn’t much else in the room beyond the basics. A desk with nothing but a single framed picture on it. This was Natasha’s sanctuary, where everything was kept in its place. The glimpse at her orderly room hit him like a punch in the gut. He was turning her orderly life upside down. Of course she was wary of him. Hell, even he was wary of the kind of chaos he could wreak on her life.
He wandered across the wooden floor to the window where Natasha had stood that first night and stripped for him. He lifted a row of the blinds and peeked out at the street below. Down in his truck that first night, he had jacked off imagining a blow job from her. Not once wondering what she was imagining upstairs.
Natasha closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. “You okay, Max?”
“Of course.” He turned around and took her in. Her hair hung in messy waves around her face, and her pajama top was a little askew. Beautiful as ever. And no bra. Max sighed. Horny thoughts once again, though with Natasha, they were mixed up with other feelings now.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breath caught as he slipped his hand around the back of her neck.
“Remember that first night?” he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “You mean the red-light district show I gave you?”
“Yeah, that one.” He smiled. “Did that night have a happy ending for you, too?”
Natasha chuckled. “Yep.”
“What did you imagine?”
A new flush crept up her cheeks, and she swallowed, her delicate throat quivering.
“Nothing exciting. I just imagined plain old sex with you, nothing more. Right here against the door, actually.”
He brushed his fingers over her pulse, throbbing at the base of her neck, then kissed her forehead. That was what she wanted.
“Boring, right?” she added with a wry smile.
He shook his head. “Not at all.” He pressed his lips against hers. Heaven. That was what this was right now. He kissed her again. “Was I gentle? Or rough? Or something else?”
Just standing here, touching her, breathing in her scent was making his dick hard. He had been aching for her every day and every night since they left Green Island. Talking about this was going to drive him insane, but it was time to put himself aside.
“Not gentle or rough. Just...” Natasha bit her lip. “Just the way we were when we kissed in the kitchen. Like that.”
He nodded. “It was good, wasn’t it? You want to pick up right from there?”
