Page 56 of Seducing the Knave

She looked as though she’d just been pleasured into oblivion.

Yet in truth, she remained untouched by his hands. Untasted by his tongue. Untutored by his lovemaking. And instead of feeling sated and satisfied, he stood hard as stone while a troubling ache twisted through his core.

What the fuck was he doing?

Chapter Fifteen

Though the man curled up on the floor had begun to snivel and whine like an injured mutt, Max didn’t feel a single spark of sympathy.

Gregor Dune was not a good man. A pimp who’d been known to use his blade as incentive to manage the women and girls who were supposedly under his protection, Dune had been under Max’s watchful eye for years now. After a few harsh interactions in the days when Max had first started doing what he could to put a stop to such behaviors, Dune had essentially fallen in line. At least he had ceased employing his more violent tactics, knowing there would be consequences to such behavior.

Max knew the man continued to treat the prostitutes under his direction with a troublesome lack of proper regard, but it hadn’t been quite enough to justify further action.

Until now.

A recent check-in with the girls under Dune’s care had revealed the pimp was back to his old methods of control—fear and pain.

It was well known that such behavior was not tolerated by the Griffin. But apparently Dune needed a reminder. It didn’t hurt that Dune had once been associated with Gill and might still be. If the pimp knew anything of what Gill was plotting, the information would soon be splattered all over Max’s fine rugs.

As he looked down at the leech who’d crumpled to pieces under the first punch, Max had to force himself to keep his personal frustrations from interfering with what had to be done. It would be so easy to let his growing tension from the last few days fuel his strikes and color his actions.

But Gregor Dune had nothing to do with the relentless strain Max was under and wouldn’t be forced to suffer for it.

No. The pressure inside him had only one source and one possible outlet. And it was one he couldn’t even consider.

The other morning, after spending a torturous night alongside an adorably foxed Elle, Max had considered moving her slumbering form to the sofa so she wouldn’t be troubled about waking up in his bed. If she woke with little or no memory of the night before, she might rush to false conclusions.

But when he’d considered having to slide his arms around her warm, pliant, and half-naked body, he’d decided it was better to leave her be rather than have such things burned into his senses.

Each day since, he’d made sure to avoid any personal interactions with her altogether. Not a difficult task when Gill Rook took such a clear priority.

But the avoidance hadn’t helped. Even though she’d never once tried to speak to him about waking in his bed that morning and returned to sleeping on the sofa the following nights, Max could still smell her on his sheets. After hours of fighting his intense attraction, he fell asleep to the sound of her rhythmic breath. And he cursed the fact that he’d agreed to her terms of celibacy.

A thousand times a day, he considered simply seducing her. He sensed her attraction to him, and despite her stubbornness, he believed she wanted him nearly as bad as he wanted her.

But she wasn’t the only one with pride.

---