“Why didn’t you send for me? Why didn’t you tell me what was happening?” Max ground out.
Olivia tilted her head up, her eyes filled with hurt. “I did. But I didn’t hold out much hope. Your letters had stopped coming just months after you left.” Her voice held a bitterness that sliced him. He didn’t know why his letters had not reached her, but now wasn’t the time to get into that. Her story was about Henry. So he waited for her to continue.
“The week before the wedding, my father and I fought. I refused to marry the baron; I said I would run away before marrying the old goat. My father became violent. He struck me, knocking me to the floor. That was when Henry came through the door. He was fresh home from university and received my letter. He was incensed by the scene he came upon and immediately took me out of the house. When I explained the whole sordid tale to him, he was quiet for a moment and then he saidmarry me, Livvy.”
Thank God for Henry. It was so like him to swoop in as the knight in shining armor. In his head, Max rearranged everything that he’d thought about Henry and Olivia. Everything he’d felt when he heard news of their marriage. Olivia in trouble, all alone trying to stand up against her father. Why hadn’t she called for him? Frustration and anger expanded in his chest.
“Henry said he’d protect me. That marriage to him was far better than some moldy old baron. Then he admitted that he had fallen in love with a brilliant botanist, Julien Galey. His offer was of a marriage of convenience. Marriage to me would preserve his reputation and distract society’s eyes from his relationship with Julien. In return, he would always take care of me and keep me safe. I never met Julien in person until after the accident. We immediately bonded over our mutual grief. He has been a good friend to me this past year.”
Max couldn’t sit still any longer. He rose from the floor and stepped to the fireplace laying his hands on the mantel; he absorbed the heat as his emotions churned. He should have been the one to save Livvy. She should have been his to love and cherish. He certainly wouldn’t have offered merely a marriage of convenience. He whirled around. “Are you saying that you and Henry never…that the union was in name only?”
Olivia sat crossed-legged in the nest of blankets. Her chemise had slipped and exposed one creamy shoulder. Color stained her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes to her lap. “Yes, Henry and I had a platonic relationship. Our friendship was the basis of our marriage.”
Max stood stock still, not trusting himself to respond without bungling the delicate trust she had offered by telling him the truth. Now was the time to offer some of his truth. He cleared his throat. “When I heard from my mother the news of your marriage, I was consumed with jealousy. I was enraged that Henry would betray our friendship and steal your heart away. I was so hurt that you would choose him over me.”
Olivia’s mouth fell open, her eyes round in surprise. “But you had moved on. I hadn’t received any letters from you for almost a year. Not even when I wrote you about my mother’s death.”
Max went to his knees in front of her. He grasped her hands. “I never received any letters from you. I wrote you often the first year, and then I just gave up. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
Olivia shook her head as if she could not wrap her mind around the new information.
“Will you at least believe that I would never have ignored your dire circumstances? That I would never have left you at your father’s mercy?”
She traced her fingers down from his temple to his jaw. Her gaze piercing as she stared into his eyes. And then she nodded. Olivia leaned forward and kissed him. The press of her lips felt like absolution. He let out a soft moan. Her hands slid into his hair, and her kiss became more insistent. Max let himself bask in the glory of being kissed by Olivia. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and she sank against him as she explored. He wrapped a hand around her waist. Her lush curves fit against him from chest to hip, and nothing ever felt so right. She slowly kissed her way across his jawline, and he took a moment to take a much-needed breath. She overwhelmed his senses, his heart raced, and his cock hardened. “Olivia, perhaps we should finish our discussion. There are things I need to tell you.”
She moved her lips to his ear. “No more talking. No more truths. Make love to me, Max. Show me what I have missed. Show me what passion feels like.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia sucked gentlyon Max’s earlobe, and he let out another low groan. The sound shot right down to her core. She clenched her thighs together. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Too much to handle, too many things to process. All she could think about was her lost opportunity to be this man’s wife. The years wasted. All those years spent alone in her bed, wondering what it would be like to have a husband in all the ways. To have not settled for safety and friendship but to be the center of someone’s desire, of their world.
She rose to her knees and threw her arms around him, kissing him with every ounce of pent-up passion she possessed. She was no longer cold but instead was an inferno, ready to explode. The wind howled outside; the snow lashed against the windows. The storm mirrored her emotions. Max’s arms tightened around her, and his mouth devoured hers. Hot and demanding, his lips angled, tasting and taking time to relearn the dips and planes. Their tongues clashed in a sensuous dance. She could think of nothing but Max.
She ran her hands over his back, tracing the muscles with frantic fingers. Frustrated with the fabric between her hands and his skin, she huffed. She broke their kiss and reached down to tug up the hem of his shirt. With a grin, Max slowly lifted his arms over his head. Olivia had to rise to her feet to lift the shirt all the way off. Her hands swept across the smooth skin of his shoulders, and she let out a hum of appreciation for the warm muscles. Max’s hands were at her waist, untying her petticoats. He pushed one down, only to find another one underneath.
“How many petticoats are you wearing?” He growled.
“Three. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold out there.” She laughed aloud at his look of annoyance as he attacked the second set of ties. She continued to explore with her fingers across his shoulders and up along his arms, tracing every curve of muscle. The second petticoat hit the ground. Max made quick work of the third one, and Olivia stepped out of the pile of linens. Max scooped it all up and tossed it aside. He spun her around and divested her of her corset, which he also threw aside.
When she turned back, his gaze ran hot and hungry over her as she stood in her chemise. She blushed as she realized the thin lawn of her chemise was probably see-through in the firelight. His hands followed his gaze skimming up the outside of her thighs, over her hips and waist, and along the outside curve of her breasts in a tantalizing tease of what she really wanted from him, his hands hot against her skin.
She pushed him back onto his haunches and slid down to straddle his thighs. Max wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for another searing kiss. Olivia couldn’t hold back another moan as he notched her firmly against his erection. The hot hard length of him felt like a brand. She tilted her hips and rubbed her aching core against it in a slow slide. They both moaned, and Max’s mouth moved to her throat. He leaned her backward kissing down her neck.
“My God, Livvy, you feel so good.” He bucked his hips, and her mind went blank at the delicious sensations it brought forth. His mouth moved lower, blazing a wet path with his tongue to her breast. He dragged down the neckline of her chemise and claimed one puckered nipple. His hot mouth pulled at it eagerly and a sizzle of pleasure echoed between her legs. Her intimate muscles clenched in response, aching for him to ease this sharp need to have him fill her.
“I must be inside you. Livvy, Livvy…” He spoke desperate words as he moved his lips across her skin to the other breast, his tongue laving at the nipple through the material of her chemise. Then his hands grabbed the hem, and in one swift motion, he pulled it up and over her head.
When they were skin to skin, her mouth went back to his ear. “Yes, yes, I want that.” She writhed against him.
Max gripped her around the waist, and twisting them, he laid her on the blankets. He shucked off his small clothes and was on top of her, one arm propping him up and one muscular thigh between her legs. His mouth was hot on hers; his other hand skimmed down her body, stopping to brush one finger along the soft skin above the curls of her mons. She quivered beneath him. “Max.”
His fingers traced down her crease, and two fingers sank into her. She gasped at the intrusion.
“Oh love, you’re so wet. So wet for me,” Max rasped. He gently drew back his fingers almost all the way before delving back inside.
Oliva writhed against his hand. She was wild with wanting, and he was playing with her, building her desire to a flashpoint. Then his thumb rubbed against her clit, circling it repeatedly as his fingers curled inside her. She couldn’t take any more; her climax burst inside her in a river of sensations. She yelled out his name, her hips bucking as the pleasure of her orgasm pulsed and pulsed.
His lips against hers, Max murmured, “That’s it, you come apart so beautifully. You are so beautiful.” He shifted his hips, lining them up with hers, the hard length of him notched against her aching clit, causing her to gasp again. Then in one slow slide, Max pushed inside her. The stretch of his cock filled her just like she needed. He paused, frozen above her, staring down into her eyes as if he was waiting for permission to move. She wiggled her hips just a small bit, letting herself adjust to his size. Max continued to hold still. The tendons in his neck stood out from the effort. “Max, for goodness’ sake…” She bucked her hips impatiently.