A Conflict of Interest (9 page)

“Where I’m the forbidden fruit.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“You have no idea.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I have a very, very good idea. You and I are trapped in separate worlds. Those worlds are incompatible.”

Her gaze locked on to their hands. “I’m glad to know you’ve been listening.”

He squeezed her hand, and she didn’t fight him.

“Come here,” he told her softly.

“No.”

“Then I’ll come there.” He rose and rounded the end of the dining table.

“Max.” She sighed in obvious frustration.

But he took her hand again, drawing her to her feet.

She looked confused and vulnerable. “I have to protect myself from you.”

“You’re doing a terrific job.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But not tonight. You don’t need to stay away from me tonight.”

“Max—”

“It’s just you and me, Cara. For the first time, maybe the one and only time, our lives beyond these walls are irrelevant.”

“I can’t—”

He put a finger across her lips. “I’m not asking for state secrets or any other kind of information. You can stop talking right now and not say another word until morning if you want.”

She rolled her eyes at that.

He grinned. “That’s not how I meant it, and you know it.” Then he sobered, moving closer, inhaling deeply, letting her scent waft over all his senses. “For now, and only for right now, I’m simply Max and you’re simply Cara. That’s not going to happen again for another four years.”

“Eight years,” she corrected around his finger.

“That’s even worse.”

“Not for President Morrow.”

“Do you want to be serious?”

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t stand here and reasonably, logically rationalize sleeping with you tonight.”

“You’re overthinking, Cara.”

“It’s better than underthinking.”

He tipped his head toward her. “Forget thinking. I’m kissing you now.”

“Max,” she protested softly.

It wasn’t a no, he told himself. Maybe he was the one rationalizing now, but she definitely hadn’t said no.

* * *

When Max’s lips touched hers, Cara all but melted in the firelight. His strong arms enveloped her, pulling her tight, bringing her home. His scent was familiar, as was the pressure of his full lips, the tease of his tongue and the way his hands roamed her back, as if he needed to press every individual inch of her body against his own.

She told herself one minute, then two, then three. But Max’s embrace was the best place in the world to be. He was her biggest weakness and her hopeless addiction.

He whispered against her mouth, “I’ve missed you so much.”

He tugged the sash of her robe, his gaze penetrating hers as he pushed it off her shoulder, spreading it on the thick carpet in front of the fire. He flicked the buttons of her white blouse, one by one, until he revealed her lacy bra.

She reached for his tie.

The breath whooshed out of his body as she worked the knot. Then he stood still as she pushed his shirt buttons through their buttonholes.

The fire flickered on his tanned body, highlighting the half-dozen scars that marred his chest. She traced the longest one with her finger, and he sucked in a breath.

“Hurt?” she asked softly.

“Not at all.”

She traced another. “Gator?”

“Tree branch. Parachute landing.” His thumbs stroked across her midriff, teasing the skin beneath her breasts. “You are so soft, so perfect.”

“That’s because I don’t jump out of airplanes.” She stretched up for another kiss.

“Don’t ever get hurt.”

She had no idea how to respond, so she kissed him instead.

“I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.” He deepened the kiss, pushing her blouse from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The fire crackled in the quiet room, warming the air, scenting it with the light fragrance of cedar smoke.

She discarded his shirt, and he deftly removed her bra. Then he wrapped her in his arms once again, skin to skin. She let her fingertips trail down his strong back. Giving in to impulse, she feathered kisses along his chest, tasting his skin, drawing his essence into her mouth.

His hand cupped her breast, and pulsing desire skipped its way to every corner of her body. Her hands convulsed against his back.

He eased her down to the floor, laying her gently on her back against the thick robe. The villa was cooling with the night, but the fire was warm on one side and Max’s body radiated heat on the other. He leaned up on one elbow. His index finger traversed a line from her neck to the tip of her shoulder. He moved over one breast, then down to her navel.

“How can you be so beautiful?” he asked as his explorations moved back higher.

He grazed the tip of her nipple, sending waves of pleasure through her body, tightening her muscles, making her spine reflexively arch.

He did it again, and her eyes fluttered closed. Then he moved to the other breast, and she felt a wash of heat and desire suffuse her skin. Goose bumps rose, and a pulse began to throb low in her belly.

He released the button of her slacks, easing down the zipper and quickly stripping them off.

Her body rife with growing arousal, she reached blindly for him.

“Lie still,” he whispered in her ear.

She complied, only because her bones had gone limp and it seemed like the easiest thing to do.

“I could watch you all night long.” His words made her open her eyes.

His expression was intent as his hands moved along her thighs, over the white lace of her panties, skimming the jut of her hip bone, up to the indentation of her waist.

He had beautiful green eyes, a strong chin, a chiseled nose and dark lips that she knew were near magic. Every woman in D.C. was attracted to him. Yet he was staring at her with reverence.

He teased the edge of her panties, fingers dipping beneath, finding her smooth, sensitive skin. Her back arched again, eyes closing, hands curling into involuntary fists.

“Kiss me,” she rasped.

She felt him bend toward her.

She parted her lips.

But instead of tasting him, she felt his hot mouth cover her nipple. He drew it inside his mouth, tongue curling around the bud. She groaned with pleasure, one hand moving to his head, grasping tight to his dark hair.

He switched to the other breast, and the fire seemed to grow hotter. She was awash with pleasure mixed with an urgent desire. Her thighs twitched apart, primed and ready for his touch.

“Max, please,” she choked out, struggling to speak around the roar in her brain.

He kissed her swollen lips, and nothing had ever felt so satisfying. His mouth opened hers, and his tongue plunged deep, over and over again.

Without breaking the erotic kiss, he stripped off her panties. He kicked off his own pants. And then he was on top of her, his satisfying weight pressing her into the carpet. She was surrounded by heat from all sides.

She kneaded his back, his buttocks, widening her thighs, urging him in.

He eased up on his elbows, brushing her mussed hair from her face, trapping her gaze with his. “There’s nobody else in the world,” he told her. “Nobody.”

He was quick with a condom. Then he kissed her lips and flexed his hips. Her body welcomed him in. Her legs wrapped around him, her hips tilting up. There was nobody else in the world for her, either. She couldn’t imagine these feelings, this connection, coming around more than once in a lifetime.

Tonight was precious. Tonight Max was hers. She curled her body around him and hung on tight. Time and space disappeared as his rhythm pounded reality from her brain.

His broad hand found the small of her back, pulling her up, holding her to him, rocketing shock waves of pleasure to every corner of her being.

She cried out his name, and he kissed her hard and deep. Her body bucked, and her world exploded over and over again.

She sucked in gulps of air, as the world slowly righted itself again. Max’s breathing was ragged in her ear. He firmed his hold on her, carefully rolling them both so that she was on top. The fire crackled beside them, sending curls of warmth across her damp, bare back.

“That was...” she began. But she didn’t have the first clue what to say after that.

“It was,” Max agreed. “It truly was.”

* * *

Streaks of dawn stretched pink across the overcast sky, the light revealing the snowy mountain peaks behind the villa. In the king-size bed on the second floor, Max kept his breathing even, his arms still and easy where they wrapped around Cara. She was asleep, her naked body spooned in front against his, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

They were toasty warm beneath the covers. But the fire had gone out hours ago, and the villa was rapidly cooling off. The cold was like reality. They could stave it off for a little while, but eventually, they’d have to face it.

Cara stirred in his arms; the movement sent a fresh wave of desire through his body.

“Is it morning?” she asked, tone husky with sleep.

“Close.” He gave in to impulse and pressed his lips against the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Anytime.” He kissed her again, lingering.

A laugh burbled up from her chest. “I meant for last night.”

“Even better.”

“For being here. The fire, the tea, the oatmeal. For knowing what to do and how to do it.”

“I get that a lot.” He slid his palm up her smooth stomach. “What to do...” He cupped the curve of her breast. “How to do it.”

She trapped his hand. “I was about to say you were a knight in shining armor.”

“And you’re the maiden in distress? I can work with that.”

“You’re blowing it, Sir Max.”

He shifted so that she rolled onto her back and he could look into her face. “Where you couldn’t be doing better, fair Cara.”

She shook her head but was obviously fighting a smile.

“Call me Sir Max again,” he cajoled.

That got him a feeble smack on the shoulder.

He laughed and wrapped her in his arms, rolling once more so that she lay full on top, the length of her naked body pressing against his.

“You need to be serious,” she told him.

He sobered. “No problem.” He cradled her face, urging her forward, kissing her once, then again, then deeper.

She resisted at first, but within seconds she was returning his kiss. Her body turned pliant on his, molding around him.

He inhaled her scent, reveled in the softness of her skin, tasted her sweet mouth and let his fingertips absorb the texture of her silky hair. Passion arced the length of his body, bringing it to life. His hands were itchy to explore, and they slipped to her neck, over her smooth shoulders, to the small of her back, over her buttocks to the seam of her sculpted thighs, to—

She groaned against his mouth.

He stilled. “Too soon? Sore?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Well, yes. But no. Not enough to...”

He struggled to keep himself still while she made up her mind, his muscles twitching with anticipation, a pulse beginning to throb inside his ears. She was wet and hot and sweet, and he could only hover on the brink for so long.

She drew slowly back a few inches. “Max?” Her voice was breathless.

“Yeah?” he managed, his free hand curling into a fist.

“You have to promise me something.”

Anything, anything,
anything.
“Now?”

“It’s—”

He moved his hand, and she sucked in a breath.

“Good or bad?” he asked.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her mouth dropped open, her back arching into his hand.

He was taking that as good. He leaned up to kiss her, drew her down to meet him and pushed everything else to the back of his mind. His body took over, mouth roaming, hands ranging. He turned her onto her back, settling between her legs.

She was all motion beneath him, her fingertips digging into his back, her kisses deep and passionate. She suckled his neck, dampening his skin, her breath then cooling the spot. Her hand moved between them, her thighs parting, her fingertips closing around him, guiding him.

“Condom,” he managed as some scrap of sanity dredged up from the base of his brain.

But she kept going. “It’s fine. It’s good.” She sucked in a couple of deep breaths. “So good,” she groaned.

In reaction, his hips flexed. Her heat engulfed him, and there was no going back. He fought to measure his pace, his mind telling him to go slow, while his body strained to gallop forward.

They were a perfect fit, a perfect rhythm, and she breathed his name over and over in his ear. He buried his face in her neck, planting wide-open kisses, reveling in the salty tang of her skin, likely leaving marks.

Her spine arched, her neck stretched and her hips bucked up against him. Passion boiled in his body, obliterating everything but Cara.

He groaned her name and felt her hot, damp body convulse around his. He fell over the edge to oblivion.

Max took long, deep breaths, his limbs like jelly, his weight pressing Cara into the soft mattress. He decided he must be getting old, because it sure shouldn’t take him this long to recover from lovemaking.

“Max?” Her tone was hollow against his ear.

“Am I squishing you?”

She shook her head. “Don’t move.”

“Okay.”

“You feel good.”

“I feel amazing.” He felt like he’d been drugged, in a good way, in a way that could make him an instant addict.

“You have to promise me something,” she told him, voice still quiet and husky.

Right. He remembered now. He’d interrupted her. Or she’d interrupted him. Clearly, it was something important.

“For the president?” he asked.

“For me.”

Regaining just enough strength to operate his arms, Max lifted up on his elbows. “For you? Anything.” He meant it. Procedure be damned. Protocol be damned. Laws be damned. If Cara needed something from him, he’d move heaven and earth to make it happen.

She moved her gaze away from his. “When they get here... When we’re rescued and we go back to D.C....”

“I’m not telling anybody anything,” he pledged. What had happened between them was personal and private. It had no bearing on their professional lives, and it was nobody’s business but their own.