Page 48 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

“You don’t have to say things like that to me.”

“Things like what?”

“Things you would say to seduce the beautiful women you normally pursue. I looked you up, you know. And Barren County isn’t ripe with single ladies or any kind of nightlife, except for this drive-in, and Bob’s Bar, and like one restaurant. I know you must be lonely for the kind of entertainment you’re accustomed to,” I said.

“I see why you’d think that, having looked me up and all, but I am calling party foul.”

“What? Why? Isn’t it all true,” I countered.

“What you read in the tabloids Hell no. Now, tell me one thing you read about me, and I will tell you the real truth,” he said, expertly maneuvering the truck down a side road.

“Fine. What about the one where you went skinny-dipping in a fountain in Rome with some supermodel afterFashion Week?”

“First, I didn’t know she was there. I was skinny dipping because I was on vacation with my butthead cousin and his family, celebrating his wife’s birthday, and he dared me to,” Max explained.

“Now, what do you have for me next?” he asked.

“Okay, well, what about the newly married woman you flew to Vegas with in your private jet after taking her right out of her own reception without her husband?” I questioned.

“Grossly exaggerated. Her husbandwason the jet with us. The honeymoon was my gift to them, but he was so drunk, he’d passed out on board and yes, I took his bride to gamble while he slept on the plane.”

“Fine. Maybe the tabloids are wrong sometimes. But, well, I’m just saying d-don’t use your moves on me, okay? I’m not like your typical woman, Max,” I said, and silently prayed he would listen.

“I know. You’re like no one I have ever met before,” he said, and fuck, I could almost believe him.

“I’m not built for games, Max. I’ve had more than my share of men who play with women, and I don’t think I can do that again.”

I didn’t know why I said that. We’d gone from jovial to grim in seconds.

Max went quiet, and I sat there in the discomfort I created.

I should call Avery. She got me into this mess, and she could get me out of it.

I was just about to text her when Max pulled up behind the line of cars waiting to get in and turned in his seat, cupping one large hand behind the back of my neck and forcing my gaze to his.

His electric eyes were almost glowing, and I wondered if it was a trick of the light. I could hardly breathe under the feel of his strong, warm hand gripping me coupled with the intensity of that stare.

“I think we should clear a few things up before we go in,” Max growled. “First, I’m so fucking sorry you were hurt. I would never want that. But I am not sorry your loser ex is out of your life?—”

“Why?” I interrupted, trying to moan as he moved his hand so that his thumb stroked my chin and throat while he still held onto my neck.

Holy. Fucking. Hotness.

“Well, for one thing, it saves me from having to murder that piece of shit. Second, Avery might have instigated the conversation, but I was already going to ask you out, Penelope. With Avery’s interference or without.”

“What? And wait a minute, you were going to ask me out? But why?”

I hated the insecure part of me that had me asking the question. But I was only human.

It was hard to think straight with his hand on my neck and the other one cradling my cheek as he moved in closer.

“Because of this,” Max growled and slammed his lips to mine.

CHAPTER TWELVE-MAX

“Excuse me, sir?”

I was straight up, going to kill the young punk who was knocking on the glass of my half-open window. Who did this punk think he was, interrupting my first taste of my promised?

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