Page 69 of The Forbidden Trio

He reached across the table, stroking her cheek. “It’s always been you. Always.”

“Max…”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Where?”

“I want to show you something. Come on.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. The truth was, she’d go almost anywhere with Max. It had always been him for her, too.

He waved the waitress over, paid, then walked her out of the restaurant, his hand resting on her lower back in a way that made her shiver. His touch always had. It always would.

Outside, he handed a ticket to the valet, who pulled up a few minutes later in a sleek, sporty, black BMW i8.

“This is a hell of a rental,” Aster said.

“It’s mine. I bought it as soon as I knew I was moving back for the long haul. I know it’s a bit much, but I love this car.”

“It’s beautiful. And it fits you, Max.”

He flashed her one of his irresistible grins. “I’ll take both of those as a compliment.”

He handed her in, and she sank into the plush leather seat. The car really did remind her of him—masculine, sexy, all sleek lines.

He got in and adjusted the rearview mirror.

“Got your seatbelt on?” he asked, ever the protector.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“Just sit back and relax. You’ll see.”

The drive into New York City took less than an hour, and they passed the time chatting and listening to some of their favorite music. They’d always had music in common, among numerous other things. It was a mix of old R&B, alternative rock, and some moody, sensual EDM, making a perfect backdrop to the easy drive and easy conversation.

“What’s it been like in California?” she asked him. “We’ve talked, but not in any detail.”

“The Wine Country is gorgeous—unbelievably picturesque countryside—and San Francisco is a short drive away. Incredible food towns. Really good wine, of course, some of which we’ll have at the new restaurant. I like living there, but I’ve missed the East Coast. I sold my house, so there are no plans to go back.”

“And dating?”

“Honestly? I’ve been too busy to date a whole lot. There hasn’t been anything serious since I was in Europe.”

“Oh, yes, Cecile,” she said softly.

“It’s okay. You can say her name.”

“I just didn’t want to bring up something that might be a painful memory.”

He shrugged, muscle rippling under the fabric of his shirt. “It was an ugly breakup, but I was the one who left, and I take responsibility for that.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean it didn’t hurt.”

“It did. At first, it hurt that she didn’t want to come to the US with me when I was offered the job in Napa. Not that I blame her for not wanting to leave Paris, and I came to accept it pretty quickly. It was her home, after all. After that, what hurt the most was that I’d hurtherin choosing my career over the relationship. But in retrospect, it was for the best. She was hinting at wanting to get married, and deep down I knew I wasn’t really in love with her, not in the way she deserved. I’m pretty sure she suspected that, or she may have been willing to come with me. But the harder part was that we had a kink dynamic. She wasn’t just my girlfriend—she was my submissive. I felt such a responsibility for her after being together for almost three years.”

“That’s part of being a good Dom, as well as being a good partner.”

“I agree. I was concerned about leaving her with loose ends. Even once I realized she wasn’t the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I hated that I was leaving her in pain. We had some close friends in the kink scene there, and I left her in excellent hands, but still, I didn’t like to let her down. I hated to disappoint her.”

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