She opened the drawer and put her weapon inside.
“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked.
With her back to him, Sam hesitated.
The wood groaned beneath his feet as he walked toward her, then his hands caught her and wrapped around her shoulders. “You know what I’ve done.”
She stared at the closed drawer of the desk.
“They say everyone’s got the capacity to kill…”
If pushed far enough. Yes, she believed that.
“… but we both know I’ve crossed the line.” A stark pause. “And if I had to protect someone I loved, I’d do it again.”
The hands that held her had killed. Her gaze shifted to her own hands. Pale. Small. But they held her gun so well.
“I want you to know, though,” he said, and his breath blew lightly over her ear, “that I didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping. With any of them. I don’t need Malone’s money. I don’t want it. As soon as Quinlan turns twenty-five—just a year and a half to go—it’s his.”
Her breath hissed out, and she turned toward him. “Max…”
“I’ve always tried to protect the people in my life, but no matter what I do, they get hurt.” His gaze burned bright. “They get hurt, and I can never stop the pain.”
She swallowed. “Wh-where is Quinlan?” The FBI still had a team watching him. One phone call, and she’d know instantly where he was.
A muscle twitched in Max’s jaw. “He’s back at Frank’s, with Beth. I hired bodyguards for him. They’ll stay with him, 24–7, until we’re damn sure he’s safe.” His hair was slick from the rain. “I just… I had to see you.”
Sam leaned toward him. She wouldn’t ever forget his eyes in the hospital. All that rage had been directed right at her. “Max, I’m sorry about the way this went down.” Because, yes, she felt guilty as damn hell.
“You busted ass to find him.” He shook his head. “What those bastards did—that was them, not you.”
Her eyes watered—stupid contacts, had to be them—and she blinked.
“I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw you.”
Oh, damn. Sam admitted, “I didn’t even try.” Because he’d been all she could think about.
“Fuck.” He pulled her even closer. His clothes were wet, but she didn’t care. “I need you,” he growled.
When they kissed this time, she was desperate for him.
A thin cotton t-shirt covered her br**sts. A pair of old jogging shorts skimmed her thighs, and she wanted them off. Wanted her clothes gone. Wanted his on the floor.
Wanted him on the floor.
No, the bed. Do this right. This was different. Not just sex.
Not. Just. Sex.
“You’re wet,” she whispered against his lips. “G-get out of those clothes.” She licked his lower lip. Nipped him.
A shudder worked over his body.
Her gaze bored into his. “Come to bed with me.” Her hands caught the bottom edge of her t-shirt, and she pulled it over her head. She tossed the shirt to the floor, let him look, then walked away—slowly, carefully, knowing that he watched her every move.
Sam climbed the stairs. She heard his footsteps behind her. He’s coming.
At the top of the stairs, she pushed down her shorts and ditched the panties that would only get in the way. Look back. Sam glanced over her shoulder. Max was halfway up the steps. His shirt was gone. That chest—oh, how she loved those sexy muscles.
His stare was like a hot touch on her skin. And he would be touching her soon. Touching every inch of her. Just as she’d touch him.
She went into her bedroom. Dark, so dark. She liked the dark. Always had. Things were softer in the dark. It was easier to hide in the dark.
Sam went to the bed and slid beneath the covers.
His footsteps were muffled by the carpet upstairs, but she could all but feel him. Sam knew the instant he walked into her room.
Closer, closer…
Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see his silhouette looming near the edge of the bed. Her hand lifted and touched the flat planes of his stomach. Hot flesh. Her fingers slipped down. His pants were gone. His c**k was up. Straining, thick, and more than ready. Her hand curled around him. She pumped that hard flesh. Once. Twice.
Max caught her hand and locked his fingers around her wrist. He climbed into the bed and surrounded her with his strength and his scent. His mouth took her breast, closing over the nipple as he sucked.
Her back arched off the bed. Sam bit her lower lip. Yes.
“Don’t hold back.” His breath blew over her tight nipple. “I want to hear you.” His hand eased its grip on her wrist. He stretched over her, reaching for the nightstand. The lamp light flickered on, too bright, and she blinked. “And I want to see you,” he said. “Every bit of you.”
No hiding in the dark. No pretending to be someone else. No pretending at all.
He’d risen over her. His gaze weighed her, and Sam realized he knew. Her secrets. Her fears. He could see everything. Maybe he’d always seen.
“Not just sex between strangers.” His whisper had her tensing. His palm slid down her stomach and curled around her hip. “I want more.”
She’d give more. This time, to him. Her legs parted and eased open for him. He could thrust inside, could take her and—
“No.”
An ache lodged in her heart, like she’d been punched, right there. “Max?”
Another swipe of his tongue over her nipple. The light score of his teeth against her flesh. “I’m going to watch you. I’m going to see everything.”
He already did. But his hands were on her—lifting her, turning her, and the covers rustled beneath her body.
Max stretched out on the bed. His eyes glittered, and he waited. His c**k glistened, and he waited.
Sam rose above him. She put her knees on either side of his hips, and her sex brushed over his cock, a long, slow, slick glide because she was ready, too. Had been, since that first kiss downstairs.
The light seemed too harsh as it shone on them, but she knew it was just a small glow that barely drifted past the bed. Too bright. There was no hiding now, not from him or from herself.
His fingers were warm and strong on her hips, and when she arched up, the broad head of his shaft pushed just inside her sex.
Flesh to flesh. So tempting…
Swallowing, she eased back up. Fumbled. “I-I don’t…” She didn’t have protection near the bed. She did have a box of condoms in the bathroom, shoved in the back of her linen closet.