Colorado 01 The Gamble (48 page)

That was as far as I got before I was
dragged across his lap. My eyes met his and I opened my mouth to
speak but he got there before me.

“I wasn’t done,” he told me.

“What?” I asked briskly, his brows drew
together over narrowed eyes and he examined my face.

“You pissed?”

“No,” I lied.

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

His eyes roamed my face and his arms
tightened around me. “Jesus, Nina, how in God’s name can you be
pissed?”

“I’m not,” I lied again.

“Babe, you are.”

“Let me go, it’s hot in here, hotter when
we’re touching.”

“Nina –”

I pushed against his chest. “Max, let me
go.”

His tight arms gave me a shake and he
clipped, “Nina.”

I calmed and tried to look at him without
glaring at him.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“You had something to say?” I prompted.

“Yeah,” he bit off. “I was gonna say that I
know we’ve only known each other a week and I know you’re scared
outta your fuckin’ skull because I got you after all those assholes
chewed you up but what happened today and what happened tonight
even you can’t ignore.”

I managed to stare at him without glaring at
him mainly because my mouth had dropped open and my mind had gone
blank.

Then I whispered, “What?”

“We’re connected now.”

It was breathy this time when I repeated,
“What?”

“
Very
connected.”

“Max –”

“
You think you can walk outta Mindy’s life,
Brody’s life,
my
life after
what happened today, what happened between us tonight –”

I broke in, saying, “I thought you were
going to send me away.”

His head jerked and it was his turn to ask,
“What?”

“I thought you were done with me.”

Max stared at me a second and I watched in
budding, yet weirdly rapt terror as a dark, ominous shadow drifted
over his face.

“I’m not those fuckin’ guys,” he growled so
low I barely heard him.

My stomach pitched and I whispered, “Max
–”

“
Don’t
ever
fuckin’ mistake me for one of those fuckin’
guys.”

“I –”

“I don’t know all they did, I just know what
it did to you and, Nina, I’m not one of those fuckin’ guys.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“
And I cannot
fuckin’
believe, after I took care of you when you were
sick, after this week, after today, after
tonight
, you’d fuckin’ think that of me.”

Even in the face of his obvious anger, I
felt steel sheath my spine and I told him, “You don’t
understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“It always starts good.”

“Yeah?”

“Then it goes bad.”

“And?”

“Sometimes very bad.”

“You think I’m gonna cheat on you, lie to
you, beat you?”

“I don’t know.”

That shadow darkened and his eyes again
narrowed just as his arms grew tight.

“You don’t know?” he asked.

“I didn’t know with them either.”

“
Jesus, Nina, I give you
any
indication I’d fuckin’ do that
to you, to anyone?”

Actually, he hadn’t.

Of course, there was the small matter of his
dead wife that he still hadn’t shared with me. Along with a lot of
his life. Whereas I’d shared a good deal of mine. Or it had walked
in his front door, spilled out in phone conversations he was privy
to or came out when I was in a snit.

To explain this concept, I told him, “I
don’t even know how old you are.”

“Yeah, that’s because you haven’t fuckin’
asked. I don’t know how old you are either but I’ve actually
fuckin’ asked.”

Unfortunately, I had to admit, he had me
there.

“What’s your point?” he asked when I fell
silent.

“Sorry?”

“What’s my age got to do with it?”

“I’m just pointing out we barely know each
other and, further, you’re not exactly forthcoming.”

“Not hidin’ anything, Duchess, unlike you
who’s secretive as hell and when you aren’t, you’re guarded.”

I felt my own eyes narrow and I snapped, “I
am not,” even though I knew I kind of was.

“Yeah, how old are you?”

“Thirty-six,” I replied immediately and his
face suddenly cleared.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m thirty-six years old.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, that shadow drifting
back.

“What?”

“You’re not thirty-six.”

I stared at him for a second speechless, in
shock not only at his words but the firm, knowing way he said
them.

“I am,” I told him.

“You think that’ll turn me off, you tellin’
me you’re thirty-six?”

What did he mean by
that?

“I am thirty-six!” I snapped somewhat
loudly.

He scowled at me, his eyes moving over my
face as he did it then he asked, “Seriously?”

“Yes!” I snapped again and then pushed at
his chest to get away.

His arms got tighter. “Nina.”

I stopped pushing and glared at him.
“Obviously, since my age is such a turn off, right about now I
should be leaving.”

His arms got even tighter but his head
tipped back, his eyes rolled up and he looked at the ceiling of the
sauna.

“Grant me patience,” he muttered his prayer
to the ceiling and I started pushing again so he looked back at me.
“Stop pushin’, Duchess.”

“Let me go.”

“Nope.”

“Let me go!” I shouted, Max gave me another
shake but I kept pushing.

“You don’t look thirty-six,” he told me.

“Let me go.”

“Thirty, at a push.”

“Max. Let. Me. Go!”

“I was surprised, surprised enough not to
believe you.”

“
Let me
go!
”

“You wanna know how old I am?”

I gave up pushing since I wasn’t getting
anywhere and it appeared Max was determined to have this
conversation. If I’d learned nothing in the last week, I learned
that when Max was determined to do something, he did it.

Instead of pushing, I glared at him again
and said, “Not particularly.”

He ignored me and stated,
“Thirty-seven.”

He was older than me. That was good. Not
that it mattered if he was younger, really. Actually, not that it
mattered
at
all
since I didn’t
care.

“Birthday’s May eighth,” he continued,
breaking into my thoughts.

“Fascinating,” I drawled sarcastically even
though it was because he wasn’t a year older than me, he was a year
and a half and his birthday was only a month away.

Max went on, “Dad died when I was
twenty-nine, took me six years to build this house.”

That was fascinating too. Six years was a
long time. He must have been determined to do that as well.

Even so, I kept my mouth shut.

“He died of cancer, had it since I was
sixteen, fought it back for thirteen years before it got him.”

That was also fascinating but in a sad yet
inspiring way.

Still, I demanded, “Stop talking,” but he
ignored that too.

“Don’t know why Kami’s such a bitch. Pretty
much has been since I could remember. Mom, she fucked up, getting
shot of Dad since she always loved him. They fought, fuck, you
wouldn’t believe it. Even when they were divorced. But she always
loved him. Told me that after his funeral. His death broke her. She
was so goddamned stubborn, so fuckin’ proud, she let her life just
slip away. Lived in the same town as the man she loved the length
of it but only with him for eight years. Now, she’s bitter for
it.”

Unwilling to let Max’s sharing breach my
defenses, I latched onto something he said and called him on it.
“Are you insinuating I’m proud and stubborn?”

“Don’t think you’re proud, babe, but you’re
stubborn as hell.”

“I am not.”

“You sure as fuck are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“If you’re not then why, an hour ago, did
you let me in, practically begged me to come in and locked me tight
when I got there and now you’re doin’ everything you can to shove
me right back out?”

This time I ignored him and suggested,
“Let’s talk about your mother.”

I saw his jaw flex in irritation at my
change of subject before he asked, “What do you wanna know?”

“
How about you explaining why you’ve had
breakfast
and
dinner
with
my
mother and
she lives in
Arizona
and your
mother lives fifteen miles away and I haven’t met her?”

“This might have escaped you, Duchess, but
we’ve been kinda busy.”

I found it tremendously annoying when he was
right.

Max went on, “There’s also the fact your Mom
showed up on the doorstep and then stayed.”

Yes, totally annoying when he was right.

Max continued, “Not to mention, you already
met Kami twice and I figured that was enough of my family for
awhile. I’m tryin’ to find ways to make you want to stay, not give
you reasons to run away.”

This, too, was a good point.

“
Perhaps we should stop talking and go back
to relaxing,” I suggested the impossible. I was never going to
relax for the rest of my
life.

“Explain somethin’ to me, babe, why is it
you always wanna stop talking when I’m winnin’ the fuckin’
argument?”

I decided to be honest. “Because you’re more
annoying when you’re right than you are just normally.”

Max stared at me a minute, visibly
astonished by my honesty then he threw his head back and laughed
while gathering me close to his amazing, sweat-slicked chest.

“Jesus, you’re cute,” he murmured when he
quit laughing and my face was stuffed into his throat.

“For the last time, Max, stop telling me I’m
cute when I’m angry at you,” I demanded and he laughed yet
again.

I shoved at his chest.

Max let me push back but unexpectedly I
found myself suspended then maneuvered then I was straddling Max’s
lap and my towel was whipped off.

I covered my breasts with my arms and
snapped, “Max!”

One of Max’s hands was at my hip, anchoring
me to his lap, the other one was gliding up into my hair.

“Been wantin’ to try this since you told me
that first night your sinuses hurt,” he muttered, his hand in my
hair pulling my face to his.

“What?” I asked on a whisper, all of a
sudden enthralled with watching his mouth get closer.

“Try and see how creative I can get, helpin’
you work out that attitude of yours.”

Even in the sauna, a shiver slid along my
skin.

“Max –” I started but didn’t say more.

His head slanted and his hand tilted mine
the other way. Then he kissed me.

Then he got creative, helping me work out my
attitude, an endeavor at which he was staggeringly successful for,
after we were done, the only attitude I had the energy to adopt was
calm and serene.

* * * * *

Max and I made love in the sauna then he
took me to the shower to rinse off then he toweled me off then he
took me to bed.

He didn’t like it when I put on my undies
under the towel and tugged his t-shirt on over it before I pulled
it free but when I explained I had never been comfortable sleeping
nude, he didn’t say another word.

Then as I lay on my side in bed, he soothed
ointment on my scrapes again while I tried with only small success
to stay awake.

After he was done, he threw the ointment on
the nightstand, turned out the light, tossed the covers over us and
pulled me into his arms.

As sleep started its invasion, I snuggled
closer and whispered, “I’m sorry your Dad was sick for so much of
your life.”

“Sleepy Nina,” he murmured strangely, his
hand had gone up the t-shirt and his fingers were drifting along my
back. If I wasn’t so sleepy, I would have keenly registered how
incredibly nice his hand felt, drifting restfully along my back.
Instead, I vaguely registered how incredibly nice his hand felt,
drifting restfully along my back.

“What?” I asked.

“Sleepy Nina is Sweet Nina,” he said
quietly. “I see I got Sleepy Nina.”

“No,” I told him. “I’m Three Orgasms One in
a Sauna Nina. That Nina is always sweet.”

His hand stopped drifting, his arm wrapped
around me and he gave me a squeeze.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he muttered
while he did and his mutter sounded like it came through a
smile.

Sleep kept encroaching and I didn’t have the
strength, or will, to fight it.

But, for some reason, my mouth kept talking.
“Max?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“You scare me.”

I felt his fingers tighten against my skin
before he said, “I know I do.”

“Every day it gets better which makes it
worse.”

I felt him give me another squeeze as I
pressed closer and wrapped my arm around his belly.

“Quit fightin’ it, it’ll just get better,”
Max advised.

I felt my weight settle into him as slumber
slid over me.

But even so my mouth kept moving. “What if
it doesn’t?”

“Life doesn’t give you promises, baby, I
can’t either but we’ll do the best we can.”

“Mm…” Finally, my mouth started to go to
sleep too.

But my mind didn’t, not for a few seconds,
while his words penetrated.

I didn’t know for sure but I didn’t think I
wanted promises, not if they were empty. Honesty felt a whole lot
better.

“Sleep, Duchess,” Max urged.

“’Kay.”

I got another squeeze and my mind processed
this too, mainly how much I liked it.

“’Night, baby,” Max whispered, rolling
toward me and wrapping his other arm around me, holding me close,
holding me tight.