Their Million-Dollar Night (8 page)

He traced her spine down to her buttocks and cupped both cheeks in his hands, drawing her closer to his body. Her legs shifted, one of them draping over his hips so that he could get closer to her. He pulled her more fully against him and felt the warmth of her center through her skimpy thong.

He slipped his hands lower, dragging her panties down her legs. They tangled in her shoes and he sat up, taking them off and then removing her shoes. He took one ankle in either hand and pushed her legs apart. She watched him and he waited to see her reaction.

She pulled her dress up to her waist and then opened her legs wider. “Come to me.”

“Not yet.” Starting at her feet, he traced the lines of her legs, all the way up the outside, skimming
over the tight curls at their apex and then back down the middle. She had two serious scars on her left thigh, and he ached when he touched them and she flinched. One of them was longer and deeper than the other. That was the one that had given her the limp.

She rolled to her side, reaching for the bedside lamp. He caught her around the waist, holding her in place. He ached for her, for this woman who had lost so much of herself. He wanted to assure her that he'd just found her and he would shelter her. Even though those words felt foreign in his mind, he wanted to offer Roxy something he'd given no other woman. Not just in bed, either. In his life.

He bent his head to her thigh and traced those angry-looking scars with his tongue. She quivered under his touch. If she pushed him, he'd let her turn out the light. But he really felt that, tonight, she needed the light on. If he let her hide from him now, she'd never stop hiding. And that wasn't acceptable.

He slipped his fingers between her legs while he kissed her thigh. She moaned as he slipped a finger into her body.

He levered his body up until he lay behind her, her naked back to his naked chest. Her dress still covered her in the areas that he knew she didn't want him to see.

He slid his free hand under her body and rested it over her stomach, then gathered the material of her dress in his hand and tugged until it slid down-
ward, slowly revealing her full breasts encased in pink silk and lace.

As he kept his fingers moving between her legs, her hips picked up his rhythm, rocking in perfect counterpoint. He shifted her in his arms until she lay on her back.

She reached up and held his head, brought her mouth to his as he continued touching her deep inside until he felt her start to tighten around his fingers. He thrust deeper inside her, petting her until the orgasm had rocked through her.

Then he reached into the nightstand and took out a condom, putting it on with the same hand he'd just had in the warmth of her body. Her dress was bunched around her waist and he reached under her to undo the clasp of her bra. He pulled it from her body and tossed it aside.

Her nipples were hard and red, begging for his mouth. He leaned down and suckled her while caressing her entire body and building the fire between them again. He pushed her dress down her body and she kicked it to the floor, her eyes closing as soon as she realized she was naked.

He pushed her thighs apart and settled himself between her legs. The primitive beast deep inside he tried to always ignore roared in his head, demanded that he make Roxy his completely. That she acknowledge she belonged to him.

“Open your eyes, Roxy.”

She did, looking up at him and waiting. “Watch me take you this first time. Watch me make you mine and know that there is no one in the world who's more beautiful to me.”

He shuddered as her eyes met his, their gazes locked, and then slowly her eyes slid down his body. If possible he hardened even more as he watched his body slowly sink into hers. Felt her legs tighten around his, moving higher so that he could slide all the way home.

He joined his hands with hers, stretched them over her head and started to move between her legs, thrusting into her again and again, making her completely his and giving himself to her. Needing to hear her soft cries. He moved both her hands into one of his and with the other caressed her entire body, pinching her nipple while he thrust even deeper than before. She made a sound in the back of her throat and then he felt her tighten around him as she cried out with her release. He let go of her hands and held her hips, thrusting into her two more times before he joined her over the edge.

He rolled over, wrapping his body around hers, telling himself that nothing had changed. But inside his soul, he knew it had.

R
oxy waited until she was sure that Max was sleeping before slipping from the bed and turning off the light. She hurried into the bathroom, gathering her clothes as she went.

What had she done? She'd let him see her and now he knew. This man in his perfect world with his perfect life. She wasn't a mass of fears during the day, but tonight she felt so vulnerable, so alone. She was supposed to be in charge, dammit. This night had been for her, to reclaim her shattered femininity. Instead she found that she wanted to stay in the shelter of his arms. To find a way to make him stay in hers, and she wasn't one of those dependent women.

He'd touched her. And she'd forgotten about them. Forgotten for a while that she didn't know what she wanted anymore. In his arms it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed and that the changes that had happened didn't matter.

She sank to the marble floor of the bathroom, sitting in the dark with her knees drawn up. The door opened and light from the bedroom spilled into the room. She glanced up at Max.

“Blondie, what are you doing?”

He leaned against the counter—long, lean and perfect in his nudity. She was afraid to glance up at him. Afraid to reassume the role she'd assigned herself when they came into his hotel room. Fiercely sexual and in control…but she wasn't and she couldn't pretend any more.

“You wouldn't understand, Max.”

He gave her a really sweet smile and she felt it all the way to her toes.

“Midnight is the time for regrets,” he said.

If he only knew. Midnight was only the beginning. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long time. And she wished she'd been able to relax and sleep in Max's arms. But her own fears of what her body would look like in the morning, of his revulsion when his lust had passed…

“What do you regret?” she asked. Anything would be better than dwelling on her own insecurities.

He hunkered down on the floor next to her, cupping her face in those big hands of his. “That the woman I just made love to is sitting on the floor in the dark.”

She held on to his wrists, looked him straight in the eye and said, “It's not you.”

“It's not you, either,” he said, kissing her tenderly. Drawing her up off the cold marble floor and into his embrace. In bed he'd been dominating, making sure she reacted to every move he made, but now he was gentle. She kept her eyes open, afraid to close them and find out that this was all a dream.

She realized something important about Max that she'd never noticed before. He really saw past all the things she used to keep most people at bay.

He lifted his head, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. She shivered in reaction to his touch, but he pushed to his feet.

He took one of the thick terry robes from the back of the door and wrapped it around her, then pulled her into his arms. She leaned against him, very much afraid that this was becoming a habit and one she'd never want to break. But she couldn't force herself away.

She'd been on her own since she was twelve and it was nice to have another person really care for her. Even if it was just a sexual thing, or temporary. For
this night she didn't have to lie alone in her bed with only her thoughts for company.

“Will you stay with me until morning? Or would you like me to take you home?” he asked.

“I don't sleep. I haven't since…”

“No problem. What do you usually do?”

“Exercise. Watch TV. Sometimes I try to read.”

“How does a bath sound?”

“Naked.”

He arched one eyebrow at her. “Do you bathe with clothing on?”

“I usually bathe alone. I have body issues,” she said, knowing that he must have realized it before this moment.

“I noticed.”

“Hey, that's the first unchivalrous thing you've said to me. So the real Max isn't as nice as he pretends to be?”

“The real Max…are you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yes.” More than he could understand, she needed to see his vulnerabilities.

“The real Max is a little spoiled, mean and determined.”

“I'd say a lot determined.”

He smiled at her. “I'll give you that.”

He pulled her closer in his arms and she settled there. “I have issues with your body, too. You are too sexy. Every time we're out together, other men keep
checking you out. It makes me want to do something to stake my claim. To make sure those men know you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you?” she asked. For most of her life she'd belonged only on the stage when she was dancing. Off the stage the competitive nature of her career had prohibited any deep and lasting bonds from forming.

“I don't know,” he said, honestly. “I'm not entirely sure how to deal with you. But I want you in my life.”

“For how long?” she asked and immediately wished she hadn't.

He rubbed her back, leaning against the counter-top. She liked how well they fitted together physically. If only she'd get over her body issues, they could both relax together skin-to-skin.

“I think if I said forever we'd both be scared,” he said at last, watching her reaction carefully.

He was right. Forever did sound scary, since she'd only known him two days. Two days…but it felt like a lifetime. Too much was happening too fast and it was easy to let Max sweep her along in whatever he had planned because it gave her the freedom of not being responsible for the choices she made.
He swept me off my feet.
Even as she said the words in her mind, she felt disconnected.

For the first time in her life another person was
asking her to make a decision that affected them. Asking her…oh, man what was he asking her? Forever? That was something that she'd never believed in. Her earliest memories were of being alone. Forever with another person—she simply didn't buy into that.

“You can't fool me. Nothing scares you,” she said, trying to keep the focus off herself.

He hugged her tightly to him and bent his head so that he spoke right into her ear. “I'm afraid that I won't be able to keep you.”

“I'm not a Learjet, Max. I'm not a possession.”

“But I want to possess you,” he said, shoving his hands through his hair. “I know that I sound…well, not exactly rational. But I
am
rational. If you know nothing else about me, Blondie, know that I'm the kind of man who thinks every decision through.”

She didn't know how to respond to that. No man had ever wanted her, her father had left before she was born, no boy had asked her out in high school and once she'd started dancing the men who'd asked her out had always left. All except Alan, who'd scared her with his possessiveness.

She wanted to tell him that she'd be his. “I'm not ready for you.”

“No? What about physically?”

She shrugged. Every time he touched her she felt the bonds between them strengthening. She tried to
tell herself it was just sex but she was beginning to believe it was so much more.

“I bet you are.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. That lamp on the nightstand was on again and she knew that this time he wasn't going to let her slowly remove her clothing and pretend that he wasn't seeing the scars.

And she didn't want him to have to treat her as though she was fragile, to have to factor in how to get her out of her clothing without her flinching like some frightened virgin. So she took a deep breath, untied the belt of her robe and slowly let it drop to the floor.

 

Max appreciated the strength it took for her to stand there in the lamp's light and drop her robe. He had to be honest and say that once she was naked he wanted to forget about everything except making love to her again. But he couldn't ignore the sadness in her eyes. This was a woman who had once felt pride in her body, and he wanted her to again.

“I thought I was supposed to be convincing you,” he said, moving toward her.

She held her hand up and he stopped when less than a foot of space separated them. “You already did. Now, I want to do something for you.”

“I think we've covered that. Why don't we do something that's for each other?”

“That's why I'm standing here naked. But first I want you to look at me. Really look at me.”

“I am.”

“Not my breasts.”

“Well, they
are
gorgeous.”

She stared at him for a minute and then smiled, her expression so tempting that he felt his erection twitch in reaction to it.

He took her hand in his and led her to the mirror that stood embedded in the wall in the dressing area. He hit the light switch.

Roxy wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to shrink her body. He stood behind her, pulling her arms from her body and holding them out to her sides.

“Look in the mirror.”

She hesitated for a second and then looked up. Their gazes met in the mirror and he bent and kissed her shoulder. Drew his mouth and teeth along the expanse of skin there until she shivered in his arms and tipped her head, offering him the long column of her neck.

He nibbled at her neck, working his way up to her ear. He sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth and bit it delicately. “Look at your body.”

She shook her head. Max wondered if he was pushing too hard. If he should just back off. But he didn't want Roxy in his bed feeling as though she had to hide part of herself. He wanted her free of her inhibitions.

“Then I'll look at you and tell you what I see.”

He cupped her shoulders and she lowered her arms to her sides. “Your arms are so feminine yet at the same time muscled and strong. I like the way they look in those sleeveless tops you wear. I can't resist reaching out and touching you.”

He ran his hands down both of her arms, slowly taking his time to make sure that he didn't miss a single inch of skin.

“I like my arms, too,” she said quietly.

He tipped her head back and kissed her. She opened her mouth for him, angling her head the way he liked her to, and teased his tongue to come deeper into her mouth. When he lifted his head they were both breathing more heavily. Her lips were wet and swollen from his kisses and her eyes were slumberous.

He skimmed his hands over her breasts. He cupped the full weight of them, and felt her nipples tightening under his touch. “You have gorgeous breasts.”

Her eyes were on his hands, his tanned skin a contrast against her pale white flesh. Her body, so delicate and pink and feminine, contrasted with the masculine strength of his. She put her hands over his as she undulated against his entire body, her buttocks rubbing over his erection, her shoulder blades rubbing over his chest, her long silky hair brushing his neck and shoulder.

“Can we stop now?” she asked, her voice low and
husky. She turned in his arms, her hands roaming down his chest. Fingernails scraping over him. “I really like your body.”

“I know you do,” he said, kissing her harder than he intended because he really couldn't resist her. He turned her back in his arms and held her firmly against him. One hand at her waist, the other right beneath her breasts.

“This is the part you don't like,” he said, caressing her stomach from her ribs down to her belly button and stopping before he reached the curls between her legs.

“Yes,” she said her voice breaking.

He kept touching her there, stroking over her skin until she relaxed against him. He took her hand in his and moved it over her own body. Sensitive to her reaction, he stopped when she lingered over the first scar. There were seven in total, all varying in length, the longest of them no more than three inches.

It was a miracle to him that she was here now in his arms—whole and complete. He had to batten down his own rage at what she'd been through. He vowed she'd never be that vulnerable again.

“I was very vain, Max. I think I hate these scars because they are proof of that vanity. Proof that I liked my body too much.”

He hugged her tighter to him. Words were impos
sible at this moment. He just rubbed their joined hands over her body. “You are a dancer, your body is your work. It's how you express your art.”

She turned in his arms again. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes and another emotion he couldn't define. “Make love to me.”

He lifted her and carried her back to the bed. He settled her in the center and then slowly lowered his body over hers. He rubbed his torso against her. Felt the humid warmth at the center of her body. He liked the feel of being totally naked with her. He slipped just a little into her body just to tease them both.

“Yes, that's it. Take me and make me yours. Make us one,” she said.

He was tempted to do it like this, with no protection, but he'd made a life of being responsible, so he sighed and pulled back. Their hands met at the box on the nightstand and she took the condom from him. She rolled it onto his body and then pulled him back to her. He slid into her body and she held him with her arms and legs. He moved slowly, rocking them from side-to-side and thrusting leisurely into her body until they were both consumed by waves of pleasure.

He rolled to his side, disposed of the condom and then pulled her back into his arms. She reached out and flicked off the light on the nightstand, then turned to him, resting her head over his chest, and went to sleep.

 

Roxy woke up to the smell of coffee and the low rumble of Max's voice. She rolled over and glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was almost ten. She'd slept the entire night in his arms. This morning she was determined to face what she'd put off last night.

She got out of bed and put on her robe, walking into the other room where Max was on the phone at his laptop computer. He smiled when she entered, reached for the carafe of coffee and poured her a cup. She added cream and then sat down on the settee that faced the windows overlooking the city.