Page 48 of Seducing the Knave

Chapter Thirteen

Max had never before been more gratified by the terms of a deal.

She was his.

Albeit for a short time.

He never could’ve guessed how intensely satisfying it would be to have this woman here in his bedroom and under his dominion. But there was no denying the rush of power and pleasure he’d felt the moment she’d walked into the firelight.

When he’d left her off in Mayfair, he’d had to fight past a deep internal urge to keep her with him. He now suspected it had been some intuition warning him of the danger she’d face inside the elegant mansion. But at the time, the impulse had confounded and disturbed him.

Max Owen did not keep women.

He protected them. And in very defined circumstances, he pleasured them and enjoyed them.

He didn’t keep them.

And Elle could not be the exception. A woman like her would expect certain things from a lover, like faithfulness and commitment and...love. Things he was utterly incapable of providing.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other within the limited time of their association.

And there was no doubt in his mind—he would have her.

On her knees. In his bed. Pleading for the pleasure—the sighs and moans and breathless surrender—he was desperate to give her.

Not to keep.

Never to keep.

But now that she was ensconced in his bedroom, he’d have plenty of time to ensure the lady knew exactly what to expect of him. And when she eventually departed, he’d finally be sated. The lust and frustrating possessiveness would be eased.

With that satisfying thought in mind, he took a step back. “Eat yer fill, enjoy yer wine. I’ve a few things to see to before I seek me bed.”

Her soft blue eyes sparkled in the firelight, but her jaw was tense with pride. “Thank you.”

Her tone of reluctant gratitude tugged a smile of amusement to his lips and triggered a hot wave of desire through his blood. Fuck him, but her haughtiness got to him, especially when layered over the innate sensuality she seemed utterly unaware she possessed.

To avoid breaking the terms of their agreement within the first five minutes, he turned and strode to the double doors which led to the main part of the house.

“Will I be able to lock the doors, at least?” she asked. “To ensure the privacy you promised?”

Max glanced over his shoulder. The sight of her sitting regally at his table, a glass of wine in hand, framed by the fireplace behind her, caused a sharp ripple through his core.

“None would dare enter without express permission,” he replied.

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