I pressed back into his body, my hand curling around his wrist and I moaned, “Max, I can’t… too much.”

He didn’t listen, his finger kept rolling, his c**k kept thrusting, his hoarse, gravelly voice demanding, “Again, Duchess.”

“I can’t.”

“I want it again.”

“Max,” I whispered.

His other hand cupped my breast, his finger and thumb rolling on my nipple too and his touch shot through me like a dart.

I was right, it was too much. I was going to come apart.

“Give it to me,” he growled. “Hurry, baby, I’m close.”

My body jolted as it hit me, longer, past luxurious to sumptuous. So beautiful, I cried out, my other hand moving to cover Max’s on my breast, fingers curling tight.

“Christ,” Max grunted, “so f**kin’ sweet.” Then he drove deep with velvet brutality, once, twice, three times, groaning as he came through his thrusts.

He stopped then bent at the waist, pushing my torso down on the bed, he let me go and I collapsed back into the pillows. Max stayed where he was, his fingers moving on my behind, the small of my back, as his shaft gently glided in and out of me.

I let him, loving every plunge, his light, intimate touch, thinking this didn’t exactly feel like settling, this felt like having it all.

He slid out and dropped to my side then he pulled the covers over our bodies and gathered me into his arms. I pressed my face to his throat as I wrapped an arm around him, flattening my other hand against his chest.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mm hmm,” I answered, giving a little nod of my head.

His hand slid up my back and his voice sounded like he was smiling when he made a query to which he already knew the response. “Was it too much?”

“Mm mm,” I replied, giving a little shake of my head.

His body shook too, with laughter. I cuddled closer.

Then he asked, “How’d you do it?”

I tilted my head back to look at him. “Do what?”

“Go without for months?”

My head pressed into the pillow as it tipped to the side. “Sorry?”

“You’re a hot little piece, Duchess, can’t imagine a woman like you could stand being without for very long.”

I shoved my face back into his throat and didn’t answer.

“Nina?” he called.

“Did you just call me a hot little piece?” I asked his throat.

I knew he was smiling again when he replied, “Yeah,” one of his hands drifted over my bottom as his other hand slid into my hair, “‘cause you are.”

“Mm,” I mumbled instead of getting angry, deciding in my current state to take that as a Max-style compliment.

“I see Nina Zombie beats out Pissed Off Nina,” he observed.

Again, I decided not to reply.

Max rolled me to my back by rolling into me and got up on an elbow, his other arm resting across my belly, the front of his body resting along the side of mine.

“So?” he prompted.

“So, what?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I looked at his collarbone and shrugged.

“Musta been hard,” he noted.

My eyes went to his and even though I would rather have luxuriated in the post-glow of a double orgasm and a morning without one of my relatives at the door, I got serious and looked in his eyes.

“You know if I had a choice, go back to Brent, who was the one who beat me, or go back to the time before and after Charlie died, finding myself so alone, so lost, so needy that I allowed myself to get tied to Niles, I would pick Brent.”

His hand left my belly to cup my jaw and his face was soft when he whispered, “Baby.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“I know, that’s ‘cause it’s fresh. Coupla weeks, you’ll feel differently.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, saying, “I don’t know.”

I opened my eyes when I felt his mouth touch mine.

“I do,” he said when he lifted his head.

“Yes?”

“You gettin’ lost, gettin’ tied to that ass**le, led you to me,” he grinned and his grin was arrogant. “So, yeah, coupla weeks, you’ll feel differently.”

My eyes narrowed on his grin before they went back to his. “You know, you’re not only annoying and domineering, you’re also arrogant.”

His mouth came back to mine and I saw his eyes were still smiling when he informed me, “Yeah, and you love it.”

“I forgot, you’re also impossible.”

His eyes started dancing a split second before he kissed me, not a touch of the lips, but deep and long and he was mostly on top of me when he was done with my mouth. My arms were also around him with one hand wrapped around the back of his neck and his kiss was so good, the weight of him felt so nice, I forgot to be peeved.

“This is nice,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back and dipped his head, running his nose along my jaw.

I didn’t tell him but Max doing that made it even nicer.

“Max?” I called and his head came up.

“Right here, baby.”

“Why Shauna?”

The minute I said the words, I wished I could shove them back in my mouth. I didn’t even know why I said them. They just came out. We’d been “sparring”, as Max called it, we were good at that, it had become us and, after, he was being so sweet, I felt safe asking.

I knew as the darkness swept his face, I shouldn’t have asked.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I muttered, fear rippling through my belly because I knew I’d done something wrong and I didn’t want him to go back to that other Max of yesterday afternoon. I decided to change the subject and tried to slide out from under him, offering, “I’ll go make coffee.”

His weight didn’t shift, in fact he gave me more of it, holding me in place and my eyes went to his.

“Why shouldn’t you ask?” he enquired.

“You obviously don’t want to talk about it,” I pointed out carefully.

“Maybe not, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask.”

“Well –”

“You’re na**d in my bed, babe, you’re cookin’ in my kitchen, you’re movin’ to town, buyin’ a lawyer desk, all of that to take a gamble on me. Don’t you think you got a right to know?”

I did think I had a right to know, about a lot of things, about everything.