Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 35

MAX STIFFENED with shock as Maddy suddenly shot to her feet. He could see tears in her eyes. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Then she began pushing her way past the people seated beside her until she gained the aisle.

“Maddy!” he called after her, but she broke into a run as she raced for the exit.

The people sitting around them stirred, annoyed by the interruption. Max scooped up Maddy’s coat and handbag and excused his way to the aisle. By the time he’d gained the dress circle landing, Maddy was halfway down the stairs to the foyer. He took off after her, barreling out into the Paris night.

He stood panting on the steps, scanning the crowds of tourists. He had no idea what was wrong, but he’d felt the tension vibrating through her the moment they stepped out of the Metro station. That she was profoundly distressed he had no doubt.

He caught sight of her at last, standing to the left of the entrance. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, her head was bowed. As he moved closer he saw that she was sobbing, her body racked with emotion.

“Maddy,” he said, pulling her into his arms. He found the back of her head with his hand and pressed her close to his chest.

“I can’t…I can’t,” she sobbed. She was quivering, her whole body shaking. “Not anymore. It’s over. It’s all gone.”

He ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Maddy, what happened in there?” he asked.

She leaned back from him so she could look into his face.

“They’re so good. And I could see how hard it was, how unforgiving and demanding. And I realized I can’t do that anymore, Max. I don’t have it in me. I want it so badly, I need it, but my body has let me down. They were right. It’s over for me.” Her words were rushed, almost garbled. But he understood.

Her cheeks were smudged with mascara, her mouth twisted with misery. He’d never seen a sadder, more tragic sight in his life.

“You don’t know that, Maddy,” he said, desperate to reassure her.

She closed her eyes. “No, Max. It’s over,” she said with heavy finality.

Her shoulders started to shudder, and he embraced her again.

She was inconsolable, devastated. He saw a cab dropping off some late theatergoers and raised an urgent hand. A moment later he was bundling Maddy inside and holding her in his arms as she cried all the way home. It was only ten minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

Once they hit his apartment he led her to the couch and sat with her in his lap. She curled up against him and wept out her grief.

By the time she began to calm down, his jacket was soaked through. Slowly her tears turned to sniffs, and finally to hiccups. He leaned forward to pluck a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table, pressing them into her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Maddy. It’s going to be okay.”

She was silent, and he tightened his embrace.

“I mean it. We’ll work something out. We’ll find you some other way to get in to see Dr. Kooperman, whatever it takes. And you’ve still got Dr. Rambeau to see this coming week.”

She shook her head.

“No, Max. There’s no point. I think I’ve known it for a long time. Ever since I was so slow to recover after my knee reconstruction. My body isn’t up to dancing professionally anymore. I’m not up to being a prima. It’s over.”

“You don’t know that until you’ve had more tests, seen more specialists,” he said, refusing to let her give up on her dream. He knew what it was like to stop being a dancer. He wouldn’t wish the pain of separation and the loss of passion on anyone. Especially not Maddy.

“Everyone has to retire sometime,” she said quietly.

He frowned, wanting to argue, to convince her not to give up. But what she’d said was true. She was twenty-nine. The average retirement age for ballet dancers was thirty, thirty-one, tops. A few innovative ballet companies were taking on older dancers, women who’d had children then come back. But the reality was that ballet demanded an enormous amount from its practitioners. It consumed their bodies then abandoned them when they still had the bulk of their lives left to live.

He realized suddenly that he had never seriously considered the idea that Maddy might not succeed in her battle to be reinstated to her former role with the Sydney Dance Company. He’d been worried for her, certainly, but he’d been unable to conceive of a time when Maddy would not dance. It was so much an essential part of her—Maddy was a ballet dancer. She was only ever fully alive when she was en pointe, on stage, performing for an audience.

He knew exactly how much she had sacrificed to her vocation. Her distant, detached relationship with her mother, the result of Maddy having left home when she was fourteen to travel interstate to train at the Australian Ballet Academy. The trail of ruined relationships. The lack of any life outside her career. Maddy had given dance everything. Her life, in fact. And now she was about to discover what was left over for herself.

They were both silent a long time. Finally, Maddy began to talk.

“I can still remember my first ballet class. I bugged my mom for months before she took me. I was a year younger than anyone else, younger than they normally accepted into the class, but I’d seen Anna Pavlova dancing on television and I wanted to be her so badly that I harangued my mom night and day. That first class, Madame took us through the positions. The other girls had trouble with their turnout, with pointing their toes, with their arms. But it all seemed so natural to me. It felt like home.”

He smiled, circling his hand on her back.

“I used to pretend to my friends that I was going to soccer practice and then sneak off to my dance classes,” he said. “My maman was embarrassed, I think. I’m sure she thought it was the first sign I was gay. But Père told me that he had danced a little when he was young, and he always regretted letting his friends’ opinions matter more than what he wanted.”

“Thank God he did, because you were a beautiful dancer, Max.”

He pressed a kiss into her hair.

“And you were a star, Maddy. You dazzled. You lived the dream.”

“Yes.”

He could hear the grief in her voice again.

“Do you know what’s crazy?” she asked after a while. “People are always advising dancers to plan for the future, to save their money or study part-time or something. I never did any of those things because I could never bear to think beyond the end of my career. I mean, I’ve got some money saved, but I have no idea what comes next. No idea.”

“Something will come,” he said. “You’re smart, disciplined, hardworking. Whatever you put your hand to you’ll succeed in.”

He could feel her smile against his chest.

“My own personal cheer squad.”

“Simply telling it like it is. Just because you can’t dance anymore doesn’t mean your life is over, Maddy.”

“I know that’s true. I do. But right now, when I try to project into the future, all I get is…nothing. Emptiness.”

He could hear the fear and uncertainty in her voice. At least when he had walked away from his career, he’d walked away for a reason—caring for his father. Even in his darkest moments of self-pity and regret he’d known that he was doing something worthwhile.

“You don’t have to make any decisions straightaway. Take some time out. Let yourself get used to the idea before you start making any plans,” he said.

“Yes.”

She lifted her head and met his gaze.

“I’m sorry about The Nutcracker,” she said.

He shrugged to show how irrelevant it was.

“I could have at least saved freaking out till the end of the performance instead of the beginning,” she said.

“Maddy. Forget it, okay?”

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth then flicked back to his eyes again.

“Have I ever told what a good man you are?” she asked. “You’ve never let me down. I bet you’ve never let your sister down or your father, either.”

She pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being there,” she said.

She hesitated a second, then leaned close to kiss him again. This time her lips lingered a fraction longer.

He could feel himself growing hard and he willed his body to calmness. The last thing Maddy needed right now was the knowledge that while she was seeking comfort, he was getting horny.

Then Maddy kissed him a third time and he felt the distinct wet roughness of her tongue sliding across his upper lip. Desire thumped low in his belly and his fingers curled into her back instinctively.

He pulled away.

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea, do you?”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded and smoky with need as she tried to kiss him a fourth time. He held back, refusing the temptation.

“Just for tonight, Max. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to think or feel,” she pleaded.

He hesitated. She closed the distance between them and he felt the tip of her tongue trace his lower lip.

She tasted of tears and need, and he was only human. He opened his mouth and her tongue swept inside, sliding along his own sensuously. As soon as he had one taste he wanted a whole lot more and he clamped his hand to the back of her neck and angled his mouth over hers.

She murmured her approval, her body straining toward his. His free hand slid down her shoulder and onto her breast. Her nipples were already hard and she arched into his hand.

His erection pulsed against her backside, eager to get in on the action. He flicked his thumb over her nipple again and again. She sucked hard on his tongue and dug her hands into his back, pulling him close. Then suddenly she was pushing him away and shifting in his lap so that she was straddling him as she reached for his fly.

Her hands were shaking, her breath coming fast. He tugged the straps of her dress down as she slid his zipper open. Her small, pert breasts fell free of her dress as he pushed it down and cupped her in his hands. Her hand snaked into his boxer-briefs and he closed his eyes as she gripped him.

He needed to taste her skin. With one hand behind her back, he urged her close and ducked his head to take a nipple in his mouth. She gasped, her body shuddering. He bit her gently then sucked hard. She groaned and started to pant.

“I need you, Max,” she breathed.

Her body arched forward as she rose up on her knees, and then her hands were guiding him into wet heat. The realization that she must have simply pushed her underwear to one side hit him even as she slid down onto his length, taking all of him at once.

“Maddy,” he groaned as she gripped him tight.

She started to ride him, her hips sinuous, one hand locked on his shoulder as she drove herself down to the hilt of him then slid up again. Her eyes were closed, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, her face straining with need as she sought oblivion.

He felt himself starting to lose it. She was so wet and hot, so greedy for it. He’d never been with a woman who was so honest about her own needs. It was the biggest damned turnon in the world.

He ducked his head to her breasts again, laving them with the flat of his tongue. His hands gripped her hips and he pumped into her, grinding himself against her.

He felt her tighten around him. His own body tensed as his climax thundered toward him. She threw back her head. He felt her begin to pulse around him, her body milking his. And then he lost it, his orgasm hitting him like a wall. He thrust into her one last time, his fingers tightening on her hips, his teeth bared in a grimace of pleasurable pain.

As desire faded, reality crept in. Once again things had gotten out of control between them.

He should have stopped her. Should have been strong enough to resist temptation. But it was hard to feel sincere regret when he was still inside her and his hands still on her warm skin.

She opened her eyes and stared at him. She surprised him for the second time that night by pressing a kiss to his chin.

“No regrets. Not yet,” she said firmly.

He wasn’t sure if she was issuing an order or giving him an emotional weather report.

His gaze swept over her body, taking in the rosy color across her breasts, her still-aroused nipples, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her skirt was bunched around her thighs and he badly want to lift it to see where they were joined.

Before he could act on the impulse, Maddy shifted, rising off him. Sliding free of her tight heat felt like too great a loss and he grabbed her hips before she could move farther.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She frowned, confused.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said.

He’d surprised her. About time.

He watched as her pupils expanded to fill her irises.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked. He could see a pulse beating in her neck.

“Stuff,” he said with a slow smile.

She blinked. Then her gaze dropped to his groin where he was already growing hard again.

“Oh.”

“You wanted to forget,” he reminded her.

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

He stood on a surge of strength, taking her with him. In two strides he was at the stairs to the sleeping platform. She wrapped an arm around his neck as he ascended to the bedroom.

“Take your dress off,” he said as he set her on her feet.

She hesitated for a moment, then her hands reached for her zipper. He watched as her dress fell to the ground in a rustle of silk, leaving her standing in nothing but a pair of lacy white panties.

“Get rid of these,” he said, sliding his thumb inside the side elastic and letting it snap back against her skin.

She swallowed. The look she flashed him was full of anticipation and desire. She pushed her panties down her legs and stepped out of them.

“Why aren’t you undressing?” she asked.

“Lie down, and lift your hips,” he said, ignoring her question.

Again she hesitated for a few seconds before doing as he’d said. He slid a pillow beneath her hips.

“Now spread your legs for me, Maddy,” he said, his voice low with need.

She sucked in a breath, her gaze meeting his across her prone body. Slowly, she let her thighs drop open. He let his gaze trail over her body—the straining peaks of her breasts, the taut plane of her flat, muscled belly, then finally to where she was wet with need for him.

She was pretty and pink and plump and so much more desirable than he’d ever imagined.

“Get comfortable,” he said.

And then he went down.

MADDY CLOSED HER EYES as Max’s dark head neared the heart of her. Suddenly she realized that she wanted to see him do this, wanted to watch him savor her.

It should have been a shocking thought: Max, her friend, about to go down on her. Instead, a deep, primitive thrill rippled through her and she grew even wetter and hotter with need.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his breath warm on her inner thighs, then she felt the first wet, rough rasp of his tongue against her. Her whole body shuddered and her hips jerked involuntarily. He gave a murmur of approval and used his hands to explore her intimate folds while he teased her with his tongue.

Her head fell to the pillow. She was liquid with desire, her blood as thick and sticky as toffee. She groaned deep in the back of her throat as Max opened his mouth over her and kissed her passionately, his tongue firm and fast.

His hands caressed the tender skin of her inner thighs, soothing, kneading. She slid her hands into his hair and hung on for dear life.

He began to circle her inner lips with one deft finger, gliding through her slick desire, driving her crazy. She had to grab at the sheets then, her hands fisting in the fabric, desperate for something to anchor her in a sea of sensation.

He slid a finger inside her at last and she clenched around him hungrily.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Please.”

He used his free hand to spread her wide, exposing her utterly as he feasted on her. Her body bowed with desire as he slid his finger in and out of her, his tongue teasing her all the while.

It was too much. He was too much. Her climax hit her, vibrating through her body in shuddering waves. The last tremor had barely left her body before Max slid inside her, his thick heat stretching her in the best possible way.

She sighed as he began to pump into her.

He supported his weight on one arm as his free hand roamed her body, caressing her neck and her shoulders before finally claiming her breasts. His eyes were dilated with desire, his face hard with tension as he drove himself into her. She stared at him, amazed at his beauty, amazed that she had spent so many years not wanting him. How was that possible when her whole body was on fire for him?

He squeezed her nipples, then soothed them in the palm of his hand. She felt the tension growing in his body as he slid both hands beneath her, cupping her backside as he thrust into her again and again.

He felt so good, so hard, so right inside her. For the third time that night, desire coiled in her belly. She gripped his hips with one hand and slid the other onto his hard butt, glorying in the flexing of his muscles as he rode her.

“Maddy,” he groaned.

She tilted her hips and gave him everything she had. He shifted higher, his hard shaft pressing where she needed him most.

She lost it, hands clutching at him, gasping for air, her world reduced to the warm, throbbing place where their two bodies became one.

He shuddered, his body hard with tension, his hands clenching her backside almost painfully. He pumped into her one last time, then pressed his face into her neck as he came in a hot rush.

He collapsed on top of her, his breathing harsh. She stared at the ceiling, stunned by the intensity of what had just taken place.

After a while he withdrew and rolled onto his back. They lay side by side, sweat cooling on their bodies, the smell of sex surrounding them as their heart rates gradually slowed.

She hadn’t meant to kiss him. She’d meant to thank him, to somehow express the enormous gratitude she felt for his comfort, patience and understanding. Then she’d pressed her lips to his and smelled his skin, tasted him and instantly wanted more. And, like always, he hadn’t denied her.

She turned her head so she could look at him. God, he was so beautiful. She’d seen plenty of naked men in her time, but Max’s body was something special. Those big, strong thighs. That hard ass. His powerful shoulders and ripped belly.

She closed her eyes, unsure what to say or do. Unsure where this left them now that they’d once again crossed the line.

A warm knee nudged her.

“Hey. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

She opened her eyes. He was watching her, his eyes hooded.

“You’re not allowed to sleep yet,” he said.

She stared at him, unable to believe that he wanted more when they’d just consumed each other. Her gaze dropped to his thighs where he was growing harder by the second.

Unbelievable.

“You are T-Rex,” she said without thinking. “Insatiable.”

“Maybe it depends what’s on offer,” he said, his French accent very pronounced.

He rolled toward her, his hand finding her breast as he leaned close to kiss her. Warmth cascaded through her body as his tongue stroked hers.

There was no time for regret, she realized. Not tonight. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

MAX WOKE TO FIND HIMSELF tangled in Maddy’s hair. She lay curled away from him on her side.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He’d made love to her all night, like a man possessed. He’d brought her to climax again and again, and always she’d met him, matching need for need, passion for passion.

She’d asked him to make her forget. He figured he’d fulfilled his part of the bargain, and then some.

He disentangled himself and slid to the edge of the bed, feeling the full weight of what lay in store for him today. Another speech about regret and friendship from Maddy, no doubt. And, more than likely, her departure. Now that she had faced the reality of her retirement, there was nothing to keep her here. She’d want to go home, back to her apartment and her friends and her life.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes tracing the curves of her body. She was so beautiful, so compelling. How was he ever going to forget her?

He closed his eyes and let his shoulders drop. The old, familiar ache tightened his chest. Stupid to fall for the same unattainable woman twice in one lifetime. But it was done, and only time would undo it.

“Good morning.”

Her voice sounded husky, deeper than usual. He glanced across in time to see her pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts.

The contrast to the easy, erotic intimacy of last night was profound. Just in case he had any doubts about where he stood, her instinctive gesture told him everything he needed to know.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

She was still his friend, after all, and last night had been a watershed in her life.

She shrugged a shoulder.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I’m waiting for something else to happen. The other shoe to drop.”

“Yeah. But it will get better. You’ll work it out.” He took a deep breath. “I guess you’ll be heading home soon, then?”

There was a short pause before she answered.

“I guess so. There’s nothing keeping me here anymore, after all.”

Was it his imagination, or was there a slight question in her tone? He studied her, but her expression was unreadable.

Grasping at straws, man. Have a little dignity.

He reached for his boxer-briefs, lying discarded on the floor. He didn’t need to look to know she glanced away when he stood and pulled them on.

The joys of the morning after.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” he said.

That would give her time to pull herself together, something she clearly wasn’t comfortable doing while he was around.

“Sure.”

He headed down the stairs, his shoulders rigid with tension. Suddenly the thought of her going, of her not filling his space with the sound of her voice and her flowery perfume seemed like a really great idea.

He shut the bathroom door with too much force. What he really wanted to do was kick it, or punch a hole in something.

She’d offered him a taste of what he wanted, and he was going to have to live off the memory for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, she would walk away having found comfort or indulged her curiosity or whatever the hell she’d been doing last night and the other night at the Latin club.

“Putain de merde!” he swore harshly, turning away from the mirror so he wouldn’t have to look at his own sorry face.

He turned on the shower full force, welcoming the bombardment as he stepped beneath the water. He turned his face into the flow, then reached for the soap to wash her scent from his skin.

The screech of the shower curtain being yanked open filled the bathroom. Startled, he turned to find Maddy standing there wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before, the tails flapping against her bare legs, her hands planted squarely on her hips.

“I just want to know one thing,” she said, her chin thrust out. “Did you sleep with me last night because you felt sorry for me and you were playing knight in shining armor again?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve been friends for years, and suddenly out of nowhere sex has become part of the equation. Why have the rules suddenly changed, Maddy?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

“I asked you first,” she said.

He stared at her.

“You kissed me,” he reminded her. “Both times.”

Her gaze slid over his shoulder and she shuffled from one foot to the other. The silence stretched between them.

She didn’t want to say it, he realized. Didn’t want to tell him she’d had an itch and he’d scratched it, that any handy man would have done.

“Fine,” he said, reaching for the shower curtain, ready to shut her out.

“I saw you,” she said in a rush.

He froze.

“That day when Charlotte called having problems with the babysitter. I knocked on the bathroom door to let you know she needed to speak to you, but you didn’t answer. So I opened the door to tell you. And you were…you had your hands full. Really full,” she said meaningfully.

Shit.

He closed his eyes as a wave of fiery heat rushed up the back of his neck and into his face. Even as a teenager he’d never been busted taking care of business. That Maddy had caught him redhanded—while he’d been fantasizing about her—was as bad as it could get.

“It was the sexiest, hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Max.”

For a second he thought he’d imagined her words. He opened his eyes and stared at her. She was the one blushing now, but her gaze was unwavering.

“I never let myself think about you like that. Ever. I valued you as my friend too much. But seeing you naked and hard…I couldn’t get it out of my head,” she said.

He blinked. Maddy was hot for him. Finally, after all these years, she was hot for him.

Her hands were twisting in the fabric of his shirt, and one foot rubbed the other self-consciously as the silence stretched.

It had cost her to confess what she’d seen. He felt he owed her the same honesty.

“I’ve always been attracted to you,” he said boldly.

Her gaze flicked up, locked with his.

“What?”

“I’ve always wanted you. From the moment I first met you.”

Her eyes widened.

“That day in the shower I was thinking about you. Imagining you were in here with me. Imagining I was inside you, touching you.”

For a moment they stared at each other.

“This changes everything,” she said. She sounded dazed.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Come here.”

She took a step closer and he hauled her the rest of the way into the stall, shirt and all. In seconds the fabric was plastered to her body, her nipples showing darkly through.

He backed her against the wall and pressed his body to hers. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, tracing her lips with his tongue before dipping inside her mouth to taste her properly. She slid her arms around his neck and wound a leg around his thigh. Her hips moved against his in a sinuous demand.

“Stay,” he said when he broke their kiss.

“For how long?” she asked, a frown forming.

“A week, two weeks. A month. Does it matter?”

He wanted to say a lot more, but he wasn’t a fool. Well, not a complete fool, anyway.

She searched his face. He slid a hand down her belly and between her thighs. It was cheating, and he knew it, but—

She quivered in his arms as his fingers slid into her slick heat.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

It wasn’t a promise. It certainly wasn’t a commitment but it would do. For the time being, anyway.