He unhooks the saddlebag and pulls out two tall tin containers divided into sections. Each section swings out to reveal a different part of the meal. Delightful. I need one of these for my lunch bag. Charlie would be so jealous.

We eat our meal facing each other and only occasionally glancing over at the view. Although the food is delicious, my body thrums with anticipation. I want the promised dessert. I want more kisses. I want more fondling. I want more Max.

“What did you think of the house?” He spears a piece of roast chicken with a small silver fork.

“It’s…um…modern and masculine. Cozy. And…nice. Well-decorated.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Be honest with me.”

“I love it, but it doesn’t seem like you. Not that you’ve told me a lot about yourself, but I didn’t see you anywhere. I saw Max you but not Torment you. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

From the smile creasing his face, I assume that was the right answer.

“I use it mostly for entertaining. I meet a lot of potential clients, and I usually have them stay with me so I can get a better feel for the people I’m dealing with. I couldn’t do it without Colton. He handles everything so I can talk business.”

“Where do you go if you just want to kick back and relax?” I spear another vegetable. I don’t know what kind of vegetable it is, but its deliciousness changes my mind about vegetables forever.

“I’m building a suite on the second floor at the club. It’s still a work in progress, but I’ve got all the basics in place. I go there when I want to get away.”

“I’d like to see it,” I say quietly. “I’d like to see something that is you.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t take anyone up there.”

Although his tone is gentle, his rejection stings. “Sure. Sorry. Forget I asked.”

No longer hungry, I close up my little container and tuck it in Max’s saddlebag. He follows suit and for a moment we just stare at each other in awkward silence.

“Fuck.” Max slides one arm around my waist and hauls me up against him. He bends down and teases my mouth open, then runs his tongue in a sensual slide over my lips. My body flames in response.

He pulls away and rubs his thumb over my cheek. “That bothered you.”

“No. Really. I totally understand. We all need our privacy.”

“Not you. Not from me.” He dips his tongue in my mouth and then plunges deep. His hand threads through my hair, and he tugs my head back, exposing my neck to the sensual caress of his lips. “Are you hiding something from me?” he murmurs.

My lungs seize up, and I fall back on the tried and true deflection technique. “Your tongue was just halfway down my throat. Does that seem to you like I’m hiding anything?”

“Always with the smart mouth.” He runs his thumb over my lip and when my mouth opens he covers it with his own. This time he takes everything I give and demands more. My body melts into his. My back arches over his arm. My br**sts press against his chest, begging to be freed.

“Every time I see you, I want to kiss your smart little mouth,” he rasps in my ear.

I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him down. “Consider this an open invitation.” I kiss him back, drinking him in. Our tongues tease and touch; our mouths meld. My fingers curl into his jacket, and I moan into his mouth.

“Need to touch you.” He doesn’t wait for my response. Instead, his hand finds my zipper and in one swift movement he has the jacket off my shoulders.

I shiver at the rush of cool, night air. My ni**les pebble against the thin fabric of my tank top, and I arch toward his hand.

“You are so damn hot.” He cups my br**sts, one in each palm and rubs his thumbs over my ni**les, drawing them into tight peaks. His tongue plunges in and out of my mouth—a teasing promise of what better damn well be coming soon.

Max slips his fingers under the spaghetti straps of my tank top and peels it down. The built-in bra means I am instantly bared for his viewing pleasure. He stares but doesn’t move.

“Max?”

“So beautiful.” He bends down and draws my right nipple into his mouth sucking and nibbling until I am clinging to him for dear life and panting like I’ve just run a marathon.

Too much. Too many sensations. His mouth on my br**sts. His thumb circling my ni**les. The soft brush of his hair over my chest. The beauty of the night sky and the breathtaking view of San Francisco spread below us like a blanket of stars.

“Ahhhh.” I lean backward, arching uncomfortably over the gas tank, and away from too much sensation. My hair falls down along the fairing, my br**sts thrust upward and my peaked ni**les reach up for the stars. Max’s hands freeze mid-caress.

“Christ. You are beyond tempting. If you don’t get up now, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I’m not getting up.”

“Then I’m not stopping, baby.” He leans over, plants tiny kisses down my stomach, and teases my naval with his tongue. Heat pours off my body. His teeth nip my belly, and then his mouth dips lower.

My body tightens as need ratchets through me. Max slides one finger inside the waistband of the leather trousers he insisted I wear along with the leather jacket to stay safe on the ride. I wiggle to give him more room. The world shifts and tilts upside down.

“Whoa there.” Max grabs my arm and saves me from a humiliating, half-naked gravel nose dive.