Page 124 of When Hearts Surrender

My eyes widen.So, I can call this a work trip!

He murmurs, “See? Mr. Bad Influence is helping you out even though you didn’t ask for it.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his jaw, thinking how he has been helping me all along, with his scribbles on my drawings, his large donation to BSUA. The man has been watching over me, my silent, brooding sentinel, knowing what I need without me ever needing to tell him. So what if he doesn’t tell me he loves me? Actions speak much louder than words.

Swallowing the lump suddenly forming in my throat, I whisper, “Thank you, Maxwell.”

He smiles softly, his fingers tenderly grazing my cheek.

“Austria is famous for their textiles. In the peak season, these fields would be filled with hemp and flax, and they would harvest them to produce fabrics. These two farms here are famous for their high-quality,environmentally friendly, organic textiles, which I know you care about.”

I beam, butterflies swooping in my stomach. This man has thought of everything.

We spend the next few hours with the managers of the farms, who walk us through the production process and show us swatches of fabrics. I pelt them with questions, asking if I could have specially made textiles that blend lighter fabrics with heavier fibers such as cotton, or if they can make double weave or thicker fabrics. I end up placing an order for a few bolts of custom fabric to be expedited to McKenzie’s.

There are so many options for my collection now.

By the time we leave the farms, it’s already five in the evening, dusk having settled in, the skies darkening to deep blue. He takes me back to the cabin, where a chef and his team of two assistants are bustling around the small kitchen, talking in rapid fire German.

“What’s going on?” I ask Maxwell as I shrug out of my winter coat.

“It’s our last night here,” he rasps. “I want to make it special for you.” His voice is deeper and threaded with melancholy.

My chest pinches and unease simmers in my gut.

It’s like he’s saying everything will change when we get back home.

“It already is special, Maxwell.”

He gives me a sad smile, his hand cupping my face before he leads me into the bathroom, turns on the shower, and slowly takes off my clothes.

The steam fogs up the room quickly, and he opens the shower door and ushers me inside. The hot water feels so good against my sore muscles, I can’t help but moan.

A few seconds later, Maxwell steps in and surrounds me with his masculine heat. My mouth waters as I stare at his hard muscles rippling with his movements, the water running down those indents like a scene from the movies. My gaze trails lower to the dark trimmed curls flanking his hard cock.

Biting my lip, I drag my gaze up and trace his scars with my fingers. I love every single one of them, just like how much I love this man in front of me. He hisses in pleasure before thrusting his cock toward me.

My pussy clenches and I wrap my hand around his hard shaft, relishing the guttural groan ripping from his mouth. My thumb swirls over the slit at the tip, finding it already wet with his pre-cum.

Looking up, I find his eyes intense and dark, his nostrils flaring.

“Maxwell, I’m on my period. It’s not a lot of blood when we’re in the shower, but…”

“I don’t care.” The words are rough, almost a growl. “Do you?”

My clit pulses at the possessive glint in his eyes, and I shake my head.

Without saying another word, he hauls me to him and wraps my legs around his waist as he steps under the shower. The hot water washes over us as his lips tangle with mine, his kiss tender, then rough, then smoldering, as if he can’t get enough.

Our tongues duel with each other as our moans reverberate in the small space. He slams me against the marble tiles, his hand trailing down my body and cupping between my legs. He trails kisses down my neck and over my collarbone before he captures my nipple and I moan.

My eyes flutter open at the pleasure that coils sharply inside me as his fingers swirl around my clit, flicking it, pinching it, and he’s doing the same with his mouth on my hard nipple, moving from one breast to the other, until the sensations become too unbearable and I shake against him.

He reaches for my neck and plays with my pulse, the slight pressure making me delirious with want as I throw my head back.

“You’re myeverything,” he rasps before biting my pulse point.

I scream as he punctuates the sentence with a thrust of his hips and enters me in one stroke.

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