He must have been waiting for it, this indication that she wanted him, because he began to undo the buttons – one then two then three – until her lace-covered br**sts lay exposed to his hungry gaze.
Sliding his hands up her torso, he reached out to cup both br**sts in his big hands. Ooh, delicious. And then, as if that weren’t enough, with both thumbs he began to stroke her ni**les through her bra, turning the tips into hard nubs that ached for his lips.
He must have read her mind because no sooner had she thought it than he slid the cup from her right breast and dipped his head to capture her nipple between his teeth.
A bolt of liquid fire shot through Silken’s body and she moaned. “Yes,” she whispered, "please…don’t stop.”
Max groaned in response. Sliding his hands behind her back he released the catch on her bra, freeing her br**sts and then he lowered his head again, this time to slurp her left nipple deep into his mouth.
And the feel of his mouth on her, his lips clamped on her sensitive bud, his tongue sliding and stroking, was so sensual that her juices began to flow.
Feeling the dampness between her legs she gasped, wanting him so bad her mouth went dry. Oh God, what was he doing to her?
And even as he was driving her crazy with his caress the question reverberated in her mind. What was he doing to her but even more frightening, what in heaven’s name was he doing with her?
The thought sent a sliver of fear sliding up into her heart. Was this all a game to Max? Was she just someone to amuse himself with until he found a newer, more exciting toy? Because who was she fooling? The man was a goddamn billionaire and she was nothing more than a mechanic. A damn good one, and the owner of her own business, but still…way below Maximillian Davidoff’s league.
And the last thing she wanted was for this man to use her and then discard her like a worthless piece of rag. Because if he did, she would just have to kill him.
So before it got to that she’d better put a stop to this…this seduction he’d orchestrated. Because she was nobody’s patsy.
“Max, stop. I want to get up.”
At her words he froze then slowly he lifted his head to look up at her. “Now?” he asked, his eyes filled with desire and confusion.
“Yes, now.” Silken’s voice was firm and even before he moved away she was drawing her blouse together and feeling for the buttons.
Max’s brows fell in a frown but he pushed himself up and away from her then got up off the couch, his shirt still flapping loose around his bare torso. He looked like he wanted to say something but then he tightened his lips and remained silent.
She stayed silent, too, her head down as she swung her legs off the couch then deftly buttoned up her shirt and tucked the ends back into her slacks. She stood up and when she did, Max backed away as if he wanted – no, needed – to put some distance between them.
Silken lifted her face and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m going to head home now,” she said, her voice firm. “Thanks for dinner.”
CHAPTER NINE
Of all the women in the world for him to run into and begin to like, it had to be one who was certifiably insane.
At the thought of Silken Max could only shake his head. It had been almost three weeks since he’d invited her over to his house – and her sister, as she’d demanded – and then when he’d try to show her that he had feelings for her she’d shot him down cold and walked away. Just like that. Even though, from her body’s reaction to him, he knew she wanted him. Her shivers, her gasps, the dilation of her pupils – that was something you just couldn’t fake.
So what the hell happened? One second she was begging him for more and the next she was pushing him away. Chameleon through and through.
He’d thought of contacting Suave, seeing if she could explain Silken’s strange behavior, but then what would he say? I tried seducing your sister and things started out pretty good but then she went cold on me?
He gave up on that idea real fast. And he gave up on the idea of ever seeing Silken again. At least, that was what he’d told himself three weeks ago. But now…
Dammit, he was beginning to miss the little witch and he didn’t know who to be more pissed with – Silken, for setting up permanent residence in his brain or himself for being a damn fool who couldn't get a wacky woman out of his mind.
So now the question was, what was he going to do about it?
Max got up from behind his desk and walked over to the window to stare out at the grounds of the new offices of his racing division. Deep in thought, he shoved his hands into his pockets. He’d had a bellyful of Duke asking after the twins and even Reed, long after he’d arrived back in England, kept asking him to tell them hi. Each time he’d mumbled something noncommittal but the truth was, he hadn’t spoken to either one of them since their departure from his home weeks before.
Not Suave and not Silken....Silken, with her too-often knitted brows, her flashing brown eyes and permanently pouty lips…lips he was dying to taste again.
At the memory of her lips, her soft full br**sts, her ni**les so puckered and pink, his mouth went dry. Dang! He hadn’t seen the woman in three weeks and she still had such a hold on him that he was having a hell of a time shaking it off. If he ever did...
And he had a feeling he wouldn’t, so he might as well do that thing he’d been avoiding all this time. He'd been telling himself he was a fool to even pursue it.
As much as it went against his nature, he would swallow his pride and go and find Miss Silken McCullen.
***
“Are you nervous? I’m nervous. So darned nervous.” Suave was wringing her hands as they stood on the front steps of Doctor Pintero’s stone English Tudor home in Shorewood Hills, a prestigious neighborhood not far from the University of Wisconsin.
“Just calm down. It’s going to be all right.” Silken gave her sister's hand a little squeeze. She knew exactly what Suave was feeling right now. She was nervous, too, but she wasn’t about to let on. She needed to be strong for both of them.
By some miracle they’d finally found the contact details for the doctor who’d delivered them over two decades earlier, a doctor who was now well into his eighties and no longer practicing medicine. They’d tried calling him but only succeeded in getting his housekeeper who advised them that the doctor was very sick and was not taking calls. She’d been very abrupt and would have hung up on them but it took Suave’s tearful appeal before she would listen.