Never Too Late (62 page)

sleep from your eyes and wake you up slowly.’ They’d

stopped dancing now and were standing very still, holding

each other. Evie was also holding her breath, afraid to

move in case she broke the spell.

“I want you, Evie,’ Max said suddenly. ‘I want to take you

home with me now and never let you go. You’ve no idea

how much I want to do that.’

His eyes were liquid with desire, matching Evie’s. She

lost herself in those eyes, knowing that she wanted him

just as much as he wanted her. There was no pretence

between them.

‘I want you too, Max,’ she breathed softly.

‘Let’s go,’ he said roughly.

Rosie was delighted to see Max and threw her arms

around him when he and Evie returned to the table.

‘When did you get here?’ she asked, slim hips swaying to

the music.

‘We’ve been dancing,’ Vida added, fanning herself with

her hand. ‘Did you bring Andrew?’

Max shook his head. ‘He’s taking advantage of your

night out to go to bed early. So I thought I’d drop in to say

hello and it’s just as well I did. Evie feels ill. Something she ate.’

Obediently, Evie tried to look sick, squinting as if she

was in pain. Her stomach was certainly reacting wildly but

that was butterflies fluttering around at the thought of

what was actually happening.

‘Poor thing,’ Cara said with a hiccup.

Rosie hugged her mother sympathetically.

‘I’ll go with you,’ Vida offered.

‘No,’ Max said quickly. ‘You should stay with Rosie and

Cara. Look after them,’ he added, thrusting a handful of

notes into his mother’s hand. This is their night out too.

Evie specifically wants them to enjoy themselves,’ he

whispered.

She did her best to walk away as if she was feeling terribly

sick, but as soon as she and Max were outside the club, she

grabbed his hand in delight. They ran to the car, like a

couple of kids who’d escaped from some bossy relative,

laughing and giggling at having outwitted everyone.

Max drove back to the villa with one hand on the wheel

and one hand on Evie’s thigh, as if he couldn’t bear to let

her go even for one moment. Beside him, she shivered

with excitement, watching everything go by in a kind of

blur.

As silently as they could, they crept in the front door,

hoping Andrew would be asleep. The villa was in silence,

only the light snores coming from her father’s and Vida’s

room testimony that there was anyone at home.

‘Your room,’ Evie whispered, knowing that everyone

would poke their head round her door later to see if she

was asleep. ‘I’ll make my bed look slept in.’

Trying not to wonder where she’d suddenly developed

this newfound skill at subterfuge, she crumpled her bed

and arranged two pillows under the covers into a long

shape so that anyone sticking their head in later would

think she was in it. Then, she ran into the bathroom and

cleaned her teeth before tiptoeing out on to the landing.

Outside Max’s room, she paused, shocked for a

moment at what she was about to do. She was going to

bed with Max, she was betraying Simon. Was she some

sort of slut? If somebody had told her she was capable of

behaving like this, she wouldn’t have believed them. This

was not common or garden Evie Fraser behaviour, not in

a million years. Talk about being caught on the horns of

a dilemma.

She was still deliberating in desperation when the door

opened silently and Max stood there, looking at her as if he

knew what was running through her mind. He’d taken off

his jacket and was wearing that white cotton shirt that

made his skin look wonderfully bronzed by comparison.

His face was in shadow but his eyes blazed out of the

darkness, burning intensely with passion. Passion for her.

His dark hair was unruly and he ran one hand through it

impatiently, sleeking it back.

With a shiver of excitement, Evie knew that she longed

to feel those hands touching her, wanted those lips burning

against hers. She wanted Max. There was nothing else in

the universe except her and him.

Nothing she could do to stop herself. It was as inevitable

as the tide that lapped against the beach every day. Max

and Evie. Evie and Max. She stepped into the room and

gently shut the door behind her.

Max took her face in his hands and stared at her as if he

was drinking in every hollow and bone of her face. He

started kissing her forehead, moving to the arch of her

eyebrows then her eyelids, her cheeks, her snub nose and

her chin, before claiming her mouth, his lips at first gentle

on hers, then hard against Evie’s plump lusciousness.

She clung to him, standing on her tiptoes, letting her

hands roam over him joyously. When she thought she’d die

from the pleasure of kissing, Max pulled her to the bed. sat

down on it and stood her in front of him, admiring her

beautiful dress.

‘It’s wonderful,’ he growled, ‘but it’s got to come off.’ His big hands traced the curve of her breasts through the dress, cupping them, then he slid his fingers under the

crossover fabric to touch bare skin. Evie gasped as he

caressed her. He ran his hands over her waist, marvelling at

her hourglass shape, then roamed down to fondle the

curve of her buttocks through the thin copper material.

Her face was flushed, her hair tumbled in curls around

her shoulders, her mouth open as she gasped with pleasure.

Evie thought she’d never felt such delicious sensations

in her life before.

She reached back and her fingers found the zip. Slowly,

she unzipped the dress and tantalisingly slid it down,

exposing first the line of her sun-kissed shoulders, then the

full curve of her breasts.

‘You’re beautiful, Evie,’ Max said slowly. He didn’t make

a move to touch her, just sat like some Eastern potentate

watching, drinking her in because he knew he’d be able to touch her everywhere when he chose. His watching excited her hopelessly. Breathing heavily, Evie continued

her erotic striptease, sliding the dress over her hips to

reveal tiny white bikini pants and nothing else. She was

glad she’d shaved her legs that evening. Still, Max just

stared at her, his pupils black with desire.

It was only when the dress fell to the ground like shed

skin that he reached out and pulled her to him, arms and

mouth exploring her body hungrily.

Evie heard moaning as Max’s mouth fastened exquisitely

on her nipple and then realised the person moaning

was herself. She couldn’t help it. The feelings his darting

tongue unleashed in her couldn’t be suppressed. She forgot

all about keeping quiet in case they woke her father up.

‘My darling,’ Max said thickly, kissing her hungrily, ‘I’ve

wanted you for so long. You’re so beautiful.’

Then her hands were on him, unbuttoning the soft

cotton shirt, eager fingers exploring the hard, muscled

body beneath it. As his hands roamed over her back,

stroking and caressing, her hands touched his chest lovingly,

slipping down to open the button on his chinos.

He groaned as they lay back on the bed, Evie quivering

with desire as Max’s probing hands slid her white cotton

panties off her body. She arched against him as he touched

her, trying not to make too much noise but helpless with

excitement. When he was naked too, Evie didn’t feel any

of the prudery which overcame her with Simon. With

Max, she wanted to have every light in the place burning

brightly so she could experience every thrilling second of

their lovemaking in full, well-lit colour. She shuddered

when he pushed himself inside her, gentle yet insistent.

‘Evie,’ he said, his breath ragged. Are you all right, my

darling?’ In response her mouth caught his, kissing him

deeply to let him know that she was as excited as he. She

clung to him, sweat mingling as they moved as one. Every

muscle in her body quivered beneath Max, ever)’ nerve

ending burned with pleasure.

She wanted to be naked and wrapped around him for

the rest of her life, skin on satiny skin, hip bones locked together … and then she felt the sweetness wash over her as she came, her orgasm flooding through her body like a

great tidal wave of icy water: hitting her with an explosive

force, then ebbing gently as it rippled through her body.

Fiercely excited by Evie’s little cry of pleasure, Max

came with her, groaning out her name in ecstasy.

‘Evie!’

She didn’t know which was more exhilarating: her own

orgasm or the sheer pleasure of seeing how much she

excited Max, seeing the effect she had on this incredible

man.

She could feel his body spasm in bliss, every muscle hard

against her as he came triumphantly, wildly.

They held each other tightly as they came back to earth,

sated and shaking, bodies slick with moisture, breathing

fast.

‘My darling, that was incredible,’ murmured Max, nuzzling

Evie’s ear.

She purred back at him, feeling like a giant cat lying in the

tropical sun after months of Arctic winter. They shifted in

the bed, Max curling his body around Evie’s spoon-fashion,

as if he couldn’t bear even an inch to separate them.

Supporting his head with his left hand, he caressed her

with his right, no longer exploring every inch of her flesh,

merely stroking her lovingly. She wriggled until she was

lying on her back, legs tangled up with his and looking up

at his face. Max’s fingers gently fondled every rib, splaying

out to touch the full curve of her breast, touching her

almost in wonder.

His face was tender as he watched her but the blue eyes

were unreadable in the dark.

Suddenly, Evie wanted to ask the question all men were

supposed to hate: What are you thinking? Rosie had

gleaned this nugget of information from a magazine and

had proceeded to read it out to her mother and Cara only

the day before as they sat by the pool. It was women’s

favourite question and men’s most hated one. But gazing

up at Max, abruptly wrenched from feelings of joy to the

sheer horror of making such a mistake, she desperately

wanted to ask it.

What if their lovemaking hadn’t been the most glorious,

earth-shattering experience for him? What if she’d been

nothing more than a quick lay, an available woman, and he

was wondering how the hell to get her out of his bed so he

could roll over and go back to sleep? Was that what he was

thinking and if it was …

Max’s fingers curled around hers and he brought her

hand to his mouth, kissing it softly.

‘You’re wearing your worried face,’ he said. Are you

sorry now? Are you figuring out how to escape out of here

as painlessly as possible? I certainly hope not.’

Laughter bubbled out of Evie as relief flooded through

her. ‘I was afraid that’s what you were thinking,’ she

admitted. ‘You weren’t, were you?’

‘You’re a terrible woman for doubting me, aren’t you?’

he chuckled. ‘How am I ever going to convince you I’m

crazy about you? That I love you?’

His eyes weren’t unreadable now; he was earnest, eager,

hoping for a response. Evie gave it to him.

‘I love you too, Max,’ she said simply.

She reached up to kiss him, letting her tongue slip into

his mouth, letting him see the force of her passion. God,

he loved her! And she loved him, so very much. It was like

a dream or a miracle. She wanted to sing from the rooftops

with joy.

His hands were roaming over her body again, questing

and passionate. Evie felt herself quiver as she responded to

the erotic thrust of his tongue.

She could barely imagine that their kiss could be deeper,

sweeter than before, but it was. As if those words of love

had flicked a magic switch inside both of them, there was

no holding back now.

‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ she whispered

joyously. Then, pushing him down and wriggling on top of

him, she playfully pinned his arms to the bed and lowered

her mouth to his. ‘It’s my turn to show you how much.’

They were satiated, entwined in each other’s arms, when

they heard the giggling, whispering and banging into

furniture that heralded the return of the nightclubbers.

‘It’s half-three,’ said Evie, scandalised at the lateness of

the hour.

Max tickled her earlobe with his tongue. ‘Oh, yeah?

You’re one to talk about staying up late, Miss Sexpot.’

‘You’re the one who’s been up,’ she retorted, her body

exhausted after two frantic couplings in which she’d been

stunned by how turned on he was. Simon had never been

able for more than one session at a time. Max tickled her and

she slapped his hands away, trying to muffle her giggles.

‘Shush, they’ll hear us.’

The footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs, outside

Evie’s room.

The pair of them lay silently and listened.

‘She’s asleep,’ they heard Cara say.

After a flurry of goodnight kisses, doors shut noisily and