LUCY MONROE - A Virgin for His Prize

She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. “Tomorrow.”

Without another word, Max turned and went down the steps with a purposeful stride.

* * *

Romi moved restlessly in her bed. She’d left her father sleeping on the sofa in his study, the usual wool throw covering him.

She should be thinking about her best friend and the irrevocable step Maddie had taken in marrying Viktor Beck. Or if not that, Romi should be worrying about the problems with her dad’s company that Jeremy Archer clearly felt worth accosting her father over at his own daughter’s wedding reception.

But all of that bubbled in its own cauldron of stress at the periphery of the thoughts consuming her.

Maxwell Black said she was going to be his.

He knew she wanted a commitment. The hope of a future, not a guarantee, but at least the possibility. Okay probability . But she wasn’t looking for promises as much as the likelihood of them being made down the road.

None of which had he been willing to offer a year ago.

No, he’d presented the possibility of six months to a year of sexual pleasure and intermittent companionship, with the clear and nonnegotiable understanding that they would go their separate ways after a year.

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