Page 55 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

“Many things knock a person’s confidence in life. What is happening with your brother is not your fault.”

“You can’t really say that with any authority,” she pointed out. “You weren’t there.”

“No, but I’ve come to know you,” he said, frowning, brows meshing. “You are a very kind person.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. “Am I?” She whispered, not really conscious of what she was saying.

“The kindest,” he agreed, eyes chasing hers. And now when her lips parted, he lowered his head, slowly, so she had all the time in the world to guess his intention and pull away if she wanted to. But that was the last thing Andie thought to do. Instead, she pressed up onto the balls of her feet, closing the distance between them herself and greedily welcoming his kiss as though it was the only thing on earth that could possibly sustain her.

They had not fought.

This was a kiss borne of friendship, respect and a desire to comfort, out of, if anything, a sort of affection, and yet that didn’t matter. What he’d thought would be a gentle, soft pressing of their lips exploded as if they were mid-argument, the same spark of heat and need obliterating his self-control and sense of space and time, so suddenly all he could think of, all he was aware of, was Andie and the presence she occupied, overtaking every single one of his senses.

He had intended for it to be swift and then over, but instead, his hands at her back lifted her, held her against him, as his mouth ravaged hers and his body responded with predictable urgency, his arousal straining against the fabric of his pants and her legs lifting, wrapping around his waist, her arms latching behind his head, holding him where he was, showing that the same desperation was firing through her as it was him.

He broke the kiss on a rough breath, only so he could look around and assess if there was anywhere here that he could lay her down and make her his.

“This is not suitable,” he ground out, looking at her as if possessed, and seeing the same wild abandon in her eyes. “Andie, I want to make love to you.”

She swallowed, her throat shifting visibly.

“Come to the house. Let me make you mine properly, as I should have done that first night.” He eased her to the ground, his eyes pleading with her. “Let’s go to the house,” he said, again.

“Yes,” she agreed, and something flashed in the depths of his soul, a feeling of such intense relief he knew he would do better not to think of it.

He hadn’t stoppedto do anything with the horse other than call out to the stable hand that he was back, and then Max had wrapped his big hand around Andie’s and was drawing her with him towards the house. But not to the main doors, which were buffered on either side by family rooms where it was easy to presume his parents might be relaxing after last night’s party. Instead, he kicked open a side door and as he unbuttoned her jacket first and hung it on a hook then turned to his own, his eyes on her the whole time, as if expecting Andie to change her mind or say this wasn’t a good idea.

But wild horses wouldn’t pull Andie away from Max, even when she knew that everything between them was messy and complicated and the opposite of what it should be. As if to cement her agreement, she kissed him as he reached down to undo his shoe and then laughed, because it was so obviously an inopportune moment. But the laughter died in her throat when Max lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the counter, standing between her legs and kissing her so soundly a whole arsenal of fireworks seemed to detonate through her.

His fingers pressed into her buttocks, lifting her to his arousal as his mouth mastered hers, as he did so easily. She tilted her head back then, desperate for breath and for all of him.

Max clearly understood, because a moment later he was lifting her off the bench and carrying her over one shoulder, so she laughed huskily but didn’t complain, because his hand was curved over her bottom, his fingers moving in a slow, sensual exploration, causing her blood almost to boil.

He shouldered in the door to his room before easing her down, bolting the lock into place then looking at her as if searching not just for Andie but for a form of sanity.

There was none to be found.

He undressed her first, slowly, torturously so, with each garment being properly unfastened and then draped over the back of a chair, one by one, until she was naked and trembling, not from the cold but from the sense of importance of what they were about to do.

His own clothes were next, and these he shucked faster, while staring at her hungrily, completely, committing every aspect of her to memory, and then he walked towards her, their naked bodies coming together with the sound of flesh hitting flesh, their lips meshing once more, arms lifting, hands tangling in hair, as Max stepped forward and guided Andie backwards towards the bed—the first time they’d lay together like this in a bed, she thought with a small smile as his hands shifted to roam her body, exploring every inch of her slowly, languidly, from her thighs to her stomach to her breasts, which he was clearly fascinated by because he looked and touched whenever he could.

And then he was kissing her there, tasting her, luxuriously slowly, thoroughly, until stars formed against the lids of her eyes and her gut was rolling in anticipation and her breath was coming in pants, filling the room with the noise of her need.

“I need you, Max, I’m begging for you, again, please,” she whispered.

Max’s eyes closed though, and then he was bringing his face over hers, their eyes locked, his hand stroking her cheek. “I beg for you too, Andie. I beg for you with every single part of me.” And his kiss was gentle and soft, and she felt new emotions swirl inside of her, teasing the nerve tissue of her heart and showing her things she had never thought of nor felt before.

It wasn’t until he said those words, she realized how important they were to her.

Last night, he’d exercised a form of power over her, or at least made her admit his power over her, and it had scared her because when it came to sex, she was completely in his thrall.

But if that was true, the same could be said for Max, who had just openly and honestly confessed that he also begged for her.

With every single part of him.

Andie lay back then, totally surrendering to this, because it was right and necessary, and as he continued to kiss her body all over, including her sex, she writhed with the promise of pleasure and pleasures fulfilled.

When he disappeared for a moment, she knew they were close; and she was so grateful he always remembered protection because by the point in proceedings when it became an issue, Andie was always too far gone, swept far away on a wave of pleasure, to think of anything quite so rational as a condom.

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