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“Rio Grande,” Brecken answers behind us. My stomach drops at the sound of swooshing. The balloon lowers closer and closer to the water.
I lean around Max. “I didn’t want to go for a swim,” I nervously say.
A smile dances on his lips as he shrugs a shoulder. “Just thought you might want a closer glimpse.”
“Nope. I’m good, thanks.”
The rest of the trip, Brecken behaves and we glide through the sky. By the time we land, I’m ready to go again despite my fears. It truly was a phenomenal experience.
And Max and I just had our first official date.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sydney
“Don’t you have a company to run?”
My red fingernail drags across his taut chest making random shapes. We’re in Phoenix, our last stop on the tour. Nothing from my stalker for the three weeks Max and his team have been here. Yet, so much has happened in those three weeks between me and Max. Fear and uncertainty mounts daily the closer we get to me returning home. I’ve let go of the guilt, opening my heart to Max, but now I wonder if it was a bad idea. We lead two different lifestyles. On two different coasts. I tap down the negative emotions, wanting to live in this moment for a little longer.
“I’m doing my job right now. Keeping you safe.”
“You’re laying in my bed, naked. Is this how you keep all your clients safe?” I tease.
His hand lazily runs down my back, chills pebbled my skin and I yelp when he smacks my ass. “No,” he chuckles. “I don’t mix work and play.”
Lifting slightly, I rest my chin on my hand. My thumb brushes over his nipple and he glances down at me with a lifted brow. “You’re setting a bad precedent, boss man.”
The room spins as he flips me to my back with ease. He looms over me and I shimmy up the bed to move away from his heavy thigh pressed against my core.
“At least you understand how this works.” My brows furrow and he laughs at my confusion. “I am the boss. Always remember that.” He says it in a joking manner, but he’s not. His need for control is paramount in his daily life. I’m okay with that as long as he doesn’t try to control me.
My eyes shine up to his. “You’re the boss. Now go boss someone into getting us some breakfast, I’m starving. And you’re super heavy.” I wiggle underneath him until he rolls his massive body to the side of me. Watching him push off the bed, the sheets drape off his strong body until they slip off and I bite my lip, wondering if there was ever a better built man. When the shower turns on, I roll over and snatch the phone off the side table.
Ever since the night of the awards, the rumor mill has been going nuts trying to find out who Max is. His guys give him hell, reading all the comments from the various social media sites. The brazen comments women leave on posted pictures of him are crazy. An article pops up on my search I hadn’t seen before. Who is the real #AMAsmostwanted?
I dart my eyes to the bathroom, making sure Max isn’t standing there, and still hear the shower so I click the link. An article from Page six pops up. Oh, shit. Part of me hoped I would find a personal blog, or even a known paparazzi post that everyone knows is full of shit. But nope, this is a legit resource people read daily.
“Billionaire bodyguard, Max Shaw, is tall, dark and dangerous. And I’m not talking about his looks.” I gasp, reading the article. Despite knowing it’s about Max, it’s like I’m reading about a stranger. Why didn’t I know any of this?
Engrossed in reading, I don’t realize Max is in the room until he says, “Food will be here in twenty minutes.”
I jump and instinctually close out my phone. Why do I do that? He caught me red-handed, yet I try to hide the evidence. With a cocked brow, he stalks to the bed. I sit up, lean against the grey tuft headboard and grip the sheets over my breasts.
“You’re a horrible liar,” he says, with an amused smirk.
I huff in defense. “I haven’t lied about anything.”
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.” The word falls from my mouth before I can stop it, realizing he just set me up.
His laugh echoes in the room as I stick my tongue out. “You tricked me.”
I squeal as he grabs my blanketed foot and yanks me to a laying down position. The smell of soap and deodorant wafts in the air. I blow the hair that escaped my rat nest on top of my head out of my face. Max kneels on the bed, a white towel hangs low on his hips. He straddles me, gripping each of my hands and pinning them to my sides with his legs so I can’t move.
“I should teach you a lesson about lying to me. I won’t have it,” he states, leaving no room for argument. I watch as his fingers loosen the towel, opening it to reveal how hard he is. “Still hungry?” he muses, inching up a little on his knees, bringing his cock inches from my mouth. My breathing quickens and my mouth waters as I lick my lips.
He deems this a punishment? I should be bad more often.
