LUCY MONROE - A Virgin for His Prize

Max was amused by the fact she and Madison weren’t known for their sexual promiscuity, no doubt following that particular line of reasoning to its correct conclusion. They weren’t known for it because they’d never been sexually promiscuous.

The most experience Romi had in that regard had been with Max himself.

“Not so much, no.” Max actually managed to look more or less abashed. “It brought to light some home truths. That’s all.”

“What do you mean?” Like she didn’t know.

He had worked it out. If there had been anything to write about her or Madison’s sex life, media vultures would have done it. Therefore there was nothing to write about.

Max’s gorgeous features twisted with a cynical smile. “Do you really want me to spell it out for you?”

“Maybe not.” Romi stifled a sigh, the certainty that she spent a little too much of her life avoiding those home truths he was talking about pricking at her until it drew blood.

She wanted to talk about the reason her nonexistent lovers were never discussed in the media even less than she wanted to discuss her father’s deteriorating condition. Even with Maddie. If Romi pretended everything was okay, maybe it would be.

The fact that she spent a great deal of her waking hours trying to right injustices and excesses of the world she lived in, but could not face her own family’s brokenness, did not escape her.

“What is the matter?” Max asked in a tone she would have called genuine concern from anyone else.

From him? It probably indicated that moment his inner shark smelled blood in the water.

“Nothing.”

“That is not true.”

“Does it matter?” she asked with a heavy dose of skepticism.

He adjusted her closer. “Yes.”

They were just standing there. No enemies, or even pernicious media in sight. And yet, his big, handsome body felt like a shield between her and the rest of the world. That was one of the most dangerous things about Maxwell Black: how safe she felt in his presence.

He was a full-on predator, but he made her feel protected.

Talk about a rich and active fantasy life.

“Why?” Why would her feelings make any difference to him?

How could they? She wasn’t anything to him. Not anything at all.

His pewter gaze trapped hers. “You matter to me.”

“No. I don’t believe you.” As a potential bed partner she might have had some value, but they hadn’t been anything like friends.

“You will.”

“What? Wait…” He was talking like they had a future.

“You look confused, my sweet little activist.”

“I’m not your anything.” And if she needed reminding as much, or more, than he did, well…she wasn’t admitting anything out loud.

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“So, you’ve been dating.”

She opened her mouth to say of course she had, but couldn’t force word one of the untruth past her lips. Romi might be a professional at avoidance, but tongue-tied only began to describe what happened to her when she tried to tell a bald-faced lie.

Especially to people she cared about. Prevaricate? Yes. Obfuscate? Definitely. Sidestep? She had the full bag of tricks. Out-and-out lie? Not a chance.

“My dating life is none of your business.”

“You don’t have one.”

“So you say.” Right. Turn it back on him without confirming or denying. She would have a made a good spy.

Except for that whole “inability to lie” thing.

“I do say. Name one man you have dated since you turned down my offer.”

She glared up at Max, wanting so much just to pull a name out of the air. Any name. But she could not do it.

It just wasn’t in her. Her dad said she got that trait from her mother. Romi wished she could remember Jenna Grayson, but she’d only been three when her mom died.

“I bet you could name a hundred.” Redirection was her friend.

“Not even a half dozen.”

He was still a handful ahead of her. “You work too many hours.”

It was a problem.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She’d seen the evidence in the short time they’d been dating.

He didn’t move, but suddenly he felt closer, like he was taking up more of the space between them than he had been. “Running a company like BIT cannot be done in a forty-hour work week.”

“It could if you weren’t so intent on being king of the world.” She found herself wanting to lean into him and just let him hold her.

How crazy was that?

Max’s laughter washed through her, warming in a way even his tuxedo jacket did not. “I promise, I am not trying to be king of the world.”

“Just your part of it.”

“Well, I have competition.”

“So you say.” She wasn’t sure she believed it.

Maxwell had a ruthless streak that meant he would always be top dog, even if it meant a dirty, bloody battle to get there.

“None of the women I have dated in the past year rated a callback audition.”

“Poor them.”

Max’s smile was predatory and just a little bit devastating. “You think so.”

She knew so. Walking away from him had been one of the most difficult things Romi had ever done, but no way was she giving him a chance to own her heart only to break it.

As he was guaranteed to do.

“I enjoyed dating you.” A huge understatement, it still came out easily because it was also the truth.

“As I enjoyed our time together.”

“Good?” Embarrassed the word had come out more a question than statement, Romi felt a blush crawl up her neck.

“Not good. You turned me down.”

“We wanted different things.” And apparently she hadn’t thought to offer him part of a company to get what she wanted.

Visions of doing just that caused a bubble of hysterical laughter to nearly burst out.

It was all she could do to hold the humor in.

She couldn’t hold back a few mocking words however. “Too bad my dad wasn’t selling my hand in marriage, huh?”

Max tugged her close, his head tipping down. “I was thinking that exact thing.”

“You jerk.” She was laughing as she said the words, not meaning them, just responding in kind to his sarcasm.

But it meant her lips were parted when his mouth landed against hers.

Heat suffused her as her traitorous body melted into his without forethought or even permission from the thinking part of her brain. Forced suddenly into blatant recognition of a year’s long starvation of her senses, she returned his kiss with a hunger she’d done her best to pretend did not exist.

Voracious now, she had no hope of holding back the tide of feeling crashing over her.

It was the cost of ignoring emotions rather than facing them.

She wanted this man with every fiber of her being, no matter how much her brain told her it was a bad idea.

A spectacularly, out-of-this-world, really bad idea.

Her lips did not agree as they moved against his, her tongue eager as it met his, her body pliant to his touch.

She skimmed her hands up his hard chest, mapping the shape of muscles honed by workouts that would make a triathlete pause. Singeing her fingertips with electric warmth, the heat of his body translated through the smooth fabric of his dress shirt.

She brushed over tiny, hardened nubs and she reveled in the proof of her effect on him.

With a feral groan, Max flexed his lower body toward hers and she had even more potent proof in the press of his clearly excited, intimidatingly large shaft against her. It couldn’t be comfortable for him to be trapped in his clothes in that condition, but he didn’t complain or pull away.

Unheeded, his expensive, handmade tuxedo jacket fell from her shoulders as she wrapped her hands around his neck and pressed into him, chest to thigh. Was it possible to feel sparks in every single nerve ending of where her body met his?