Читать книгу Baring It All - Rebecca Hunter - Страница 9

THE FRONT DOOR slammed shut, leaving Natasha alone with Max. Damn, this evening was taking yet another crazy turn. Max, of course, exuded his usual easygoing charm, as if he regularly talked with women about failed blow job attempts and great sex. He probably did.

The man was so sexy, so tempting...and soooo not a good idea, though sometimes it was hard to remember why. Sure, he’d do dinner and sex without hints about picking up his dry cleaning. But everything she’d heard suggested that he specialized in one-and-done nights, and she really didn’t. Even if she made an exception to that rule, this was Max Jensen.

The Australian press loved nothing better than to speculate on the latest conquests of the reckless black sheep from an old-money ranching family, the country’s version of royalty. As the “ugly duckling” daughter of Illana Petrova, as one American newspaper had called her at the tender age of thirteen, Natasha knew better than to go near a walking scandal maker like Max. She’d had enough of those in her life, having a famous Russian supermodel turned actress for a mother. Natasha had plenty of hard-earned academic achievements to her name, but they weren’t the kind the media valued. The last thing she’d want was to put herself through another round of public comparisons, all superficial and all finding her lacking.

Max rested his forearms on the table, all tanned and corded with muscles, covered in dark blond hair. A bit of her resolve gave up and tiptoed out of the quiet kitchen.

She cleared her throat and looked up at Max. “You probably think I’m an idiot, not telling off Wayne.”

“Not even close.” Max shook his head.

“Then what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this is my lucky day,” he said, his voice lower, a little husky.

Her eyes widened. “Not that kind of lucky.”

Max leaned back in his chair and gave a loud bark of laughter. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I thought I was the one with the dirty mind,” he said. “I mean, our stars seem to be lining up tonight.”

“I’m sensing a pickup line coming on.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but heat crept up her neck. Max’s grin suggested he was enjoying every minute of this exchange, and his eyes sparked with mischief and heat. Another chunk of her resolve snuck out the door, leaving her alone with her neglected libido.

“Maybe I need to step up my game with you,” he continued, leaning forward, his arms resting on the table only inches from hers. “Maybe I should focus on your interest in animal mating. If that turns you on, we could watch some videos where the male comes up to the female from behind and bites her in the neck while—”

“Nope.” Natasha shoved his biceps to cut him off, trying to ignore his hard, thick muscles under her fingers. “Animal mating is not the thing that turns me on. I just study the reproductive behaviors of angelfish, so of course mating patterns are something I think about.”

Max stifled a laugh. “Sure.”

Natasha gave him a hard stare. “You’re belittling my career right now,” she said. “Would you say the same thing to a guy who studies fish mating?”

His smile broke through, and he winked at her. “Of course not. The discussion would be much raunchier.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. Did he really think she was turned on by this topic, or was he just messing with her? That was yet another problem: he was never serious. From that very first comment three years ago, when he’d given her a suggestive smile and spouted that cliché about getting over her latest dating disaster by getting under someone better, she couldn’t decide if he was coming on to her or teasing her. Or both. Truthfully, Max’s deep voice could make just about anything sound possible.

The very biggest problem with entertaining Max’s flirtation was that she hung on to every word of it. Despite the fact that she knew better. Despite the disaster this kind of smooth-talking charmer had wreaked on her mother’s life—and hers. She had been so very careful to avoid the trap of men who loved women, the more the better.

He was watching her, waiting for her comeback. His eyes were alive, as if he wanted nothing more than to hear the next thing that came out of her mouth. But one of them had to insert some common sense into this discussion, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Max.

Natasha sighed, gesturing between the two of them. “There are a lot of reasons we should stay away from this. Why...?” She searched for a way to finish her question. Why did he want to start something with her? But everything that came to mind sounded too self-deprecating.

He hesitated, and for once the easy amusement faded from his expression. And in that moment, Natasha had to wonder how many careful calculations went into his seemingly careless attitude. Then his smile grew, and he leaned closer.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck, and I’ve had a hard-on for you for years,” he whispered.

Her mouth dropped a little, and she closed it quickly. There was no calculation in his expression, just unfiltered sexual interest. Could that be the whole truth? Probably not. Still, maybe it could be that simple.

Just like it had seemed the one night he’d looked at her like that before. Natasha had tagged along at one of Alya’s events, and both of them had had more than their share to drink as the night went on. Later, after Max followed them back to the apartment, with Alya passed out in her bed, Natasha had led him to the door. She had felt his gaze on her in the car, and she’d felt it again in their hallway, hotter, more intense.

When Natasha had reached the door to let him out, she’d turned around, and Max’s half-lidded eyes had been so hungry. Like he’d wanted a taste, even though he shouldn’t. She had worn a red dress that showed plenty of cleavage and smiled as his eyes dipped for a close-up view. Oh, God, she had been tempted.

I’m all for indulging with you, sweetheart, but you’ve had waaaayyy too much to drink to go down that road tonight.

His words had been soft, maybe even regretful, but they’d been enough to yank her out of her lusty stupor. Yeah, he had turned her down for good reasons, but the next time she saw him, it was as if that almost kiss had never happened. Like he had lost interest and moved on. Apparently not.

Was she really entertaining a hookup with Max again? Come on, brain. Don’t give up on me now. His dates had a tendency to wind up on the pages of gossip rags...though there wasn’t much chance of that with one little hookup, right? Or two or three, if they were spending a couple days together on a tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef...

Time for a last-ditch attempt to approach this rationally. She tilted her head and tried for a skeptical tone. “It just doesn’t seem to fit into your rules for women.”

“Is that what you think?” He smiled. “Interesting. What are my rules?”

She quirked a brow at him. “Number one, the woman must show her wares on the market, preferably tall, with long hair and big breasts. Number two, she must love red carpet events.” With each number she ticked off on her fingers, his smile fell a little. “Number three, she must have zero expectations the next day because you don’t do repeat performances. You want me to keep going?”

He was silent for a moment, almost as if he were at a loss for words. No way. Not possible.

She gave him a mock-serious, wide-eyed look. “Did I manage to offend Max Jensen, the world’s most laid-back guy?”

His face broke into his signature smile. “I’m flattered that you’re paying so much attention to my sex life.”

Heat crept up her neck. Of course he’d see it from that angle. And clearly he was right. “It’s hard to ignore when it’s on the front page of a magazine,” she said, her voice a little short. Okay, maybe she had felt tiny twinges of jealousy seeing him with all those other women, but that wasn’t why she had brought up the topic. Natasha twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, searching for a way to explain her hesitancy.

“A few years ago, Alya bought me one of those ridiculous dating advice books as a gag gift, but I read it anyway. You know why?” she asked. Max shook his head. “Because the book promised to help me find The Three S’s. And two of the three are what I wanted the most—safety and stability.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Is the third one sex?”

Humor tugged at her lips once again. It was impossible to stay serious around him. “Nope. Status.”

That answer earned a frown from him. “How did it work out for you?”

“I tried their methods and got bored.” She gave him a wry smile, adding, “And tired of ending up on dates in pubs, pretending to like rugby.”

Max didn’t smile back. He just watched her with an expression she couldn’t read. Then he sighed.

Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the table. He gave her his most serious gaze, and his voice did that sexy rumble when he spoke. “Rugby is a great sport, Natasha.”

She bit her lip, but she couldn’t resist smiling. Her eyes went to his arms, inches from hers, the muscles, the scars. Okay, maybe she liked one thing about rugby. The marks of Max’s own years in the sport definitely added to his appeal.

The point was that despite not needing to follow those rules of dating to a T, they’d solidified for her what she was after in a relationship—The Three S’s led to the exact opposite of the explosive, short-lived flings her mother had.

He reached for her, his fingertips brushing over her cheek. He was so close, and for a moment she was almost sure he was going to kiss her. But then his hand fell away, and he cleared his throat.

“Maybe it’s time to set those S’s aside for a bit...for a few days on Green Island...and let me help you focus on my favorite S, which is much more fun,” he said softly. “Maybe you’re into me because I don’t follow any of that dating advice rubbish.”

Her face heated, but she leveled her gaze at him. “Who says I’m into you?”

* * *

Max threw back his head and laughed. “I say you’re into me. But I’m very into you, too.”

He watched her closely for her reaction as he said those last words. Hell, yes, she was really considering his proposition. The longer the silence drew out, the more the charge between them built. His entire body ached for this woman; he’d wanted this for so long, but there was no way in hell he was going to push it. He had to get this right and she needed to be fully on board.

The heat in her eyes was unmistakable, but lines of uncertainty still creased her forehead. Finally, she sat up in her chair. “I’m not into animal mating videos.”

He put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. Everyone’s got their thing.”

She rolled her eyes, but the worry in her expression was melting.

“I have my things, too,” he added, his voice huskier.

Sitting so close, the urge to kiss her was building. Just a taste. Not to sway her, just to test this attraction crackling between them. Slowly, he lifted his hand to trace the line of her jaw, the slope of her neck. Soft, warm breath came faster from her parted lips. She didn’t move. Just stared at him with unguarded curiosity. And heat.

Max slid his chair up to hers, and when he got close enough, he opened his legs around hers. Natasha’s gaze moved slowly down his body, openly studying him, chest, biceps, stomach...her eyes flicked down between his legs, and he smiled. She was definitely considering her options.

But none of this would happen tonight. Nothing that could get mixed up in the vulnerability that her disastrous date could have left. Just a hint of what they could have on Green Island. Even if his dick was already ten steps ahead, the eager bastard.

He rested his hand around the back of her neck and leaned forward. His lips brushed against hers. Her breath hitched, and she stilled, so he waited, barely touching. Her mouth was soft and sweet, and goddamn, she smelled good. Like chocolate and strawberries and temptation.

Then she rested a hand on his thigh and shifted forward so their bodies were even closer. She licked her lips, her tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. His dick responded as if that was a handwritten invitation to the party. Still, Max waited. Slowly, she leaned in. Her wet, warm mouth pressed against his, parting a little, catching his top lip first, then his bottom. So he kissed her, tasting more this time, letting his mouth linger on the tangy, seductive flavor of dessert and desire on her lips. So much desire.

A sigh. A ragged breath. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and her hand tightened on his thigh. If she slid it a little higher—no. Not tonight.

Instead Max focused on the kiss. She tilted her head for a slow, sensual dance with her mouth. He answered, using each stroke of his tongue to show her all the things he could do to her, all the ways he could please her. Then her kisses turned greedy, full of pure, unleashed want, and he groaned and went for more. Plans, even thoughts, faded, and all that was left was Natasha. His hand was tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he devoured the taste of her. Nothing else existed, just the hot strokes and nips of her kisses.

Her hand moved up his leg, and she took hold of his shirt. His cock was begging to get in on the action. He wanted her up on his lap, straddling him so he could slide his hands under that dress, up her thighs until—no.

Max pulled back, breaking off the kiss. He took a steadying breath. Whoa. That was...intense. She looked a little dazed, and he was feeling about the same.

“I want you, Natasha. Just a couple days in paradise, no strings attached,” he whispered. Okay, he wanted more than a couple of days, but that wasn’t in the cards for them. Her body had already told him hell, yes. Now he just had to convince her mind to listen for once.

Max pressed on. “What do you think? Maybe the rules don’t apply in Queensland?”