6. Maxim
MAXIM
I wake with Brooke's naked body curled against my side, her warm skin pressed along my entire length, and realize my entire world just realigned itself around this woman.
I'd planned to take her home after our explosive encounter at the restaurant, but she'd looked so beautiful in the aftermath—hair mussed, lips swollen from my kisses, skin flushed with satisfaction and marked with evidence of my mouth—that I'd brought her to my place instead, needing to have her in my bed, in my space, surrounded by my scent.
Now, watching her sleep with complete trust, one perfectly manicured hand splayed across my chest directly over my heart, I understand this isn't just incredible sex or even a serious relationship.
This is the woman I want to build a life with, the missing piece that makes everything else make sense.
She challenges my intellect, matches my passion, and responds to my touch like she was designed specifically for my hands.
The way she came apart for me last night—not just once but three times before we finally collapsed in exhaustion—is burned into my memory forever.
The sounds she made, how she whispered my name like a prayer when I worshipped her body with my mouth, the way her nails dug into my shoulders when I made her scream with pleasure.
She's everything I never knew I was searching for.
My phone has been buzzing insistently on the nightstand for the past hour, but I can't bring myself to move.
Probably Dimitri wondering where I am for the morning strategy session, or Viktor following up on last night's tension with some crude comment about my "sensitivity.
" Let them wait. For the first time in my adult life, business can take a backseat to something more important.
The morning brings complications I hadn't considered in my lust-addled state last night.
Brooke works for the family business, serves drinks to men who would use any connection to the Volkovs as leverage in their own games.
Dating her publicly puts a target on her back, marks her as someone who could be used against me and, by extension, against Dimitri.
The rational part of my mind knows this could become dangerous for her in ways she doesn't understand.
But as she wakes slowly, pressing soft kisses to my chest while her fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, I find I don't care about the political ramifications.
Her sleepy smile when she looks up at me makes my chest tight with feelings I've never experienced before—something deeper than lust, more permanent than attraction.
"Good morning, beautiful," I murmur, threading my fingers through her dark hair, marveling at how silk-soft it feels against my skin. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting golden highlights across the strands that slip between my fingers like liquid midnight.
"Morning." Her voice is husky with sleep and satisfaction, a delicious rasp that sends heat pooling low in my belly, making me instantly hard despite having lost myself in her multiple times throughout the night.
The memory of her gasps and sighs echoes in my mind, intensifying my desire. "That was..."
"Incredible," I finish for her when she trails off, pressing a kiss to her temple where I can feel her pulse fluttering beneath my lips. I breathe in the scent of her—a mix of her perfume, my cologne, and the unmistakable musk of our lovemaking. "You're incredible. Every single thing about you."
She smiles up at me with genuine affection that makes something crack open in my chest—some wall I'd built around my heart without realizing it. When she stretches against me like a satisfied cat, her naked body pressing against my morning arousal, rational thought abandons me completely.
"So what happens now?" she asks, and there's vulnerability in her voice that makes me want to promise her everything. "Do we pretend last night never happened, or do we figure out how to make this work despite all the very good reasons we shouldn't?"
Instead of answering with words, I roll her beneath me, settling between her thighs with a groan of primal satisfaction.
The way she opens for me, welcomes me, her soft thighs parting in sensual invitation, makes me feel like I'm exactly where I belong.
Her skin is like warm silk against mine, our bodies fitting together in perfect, carnal harmony.
She arches subtly beneath me, her breasts pressing against my chest, nipples hardened with desire.
The heat radiating from her core calls to something ancient and possessive within me, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with wanting as she writhes gently in anticipation of our joining.
"Does this feel like pretending?" I ask against her lips, sliding into her welcoming heat with one slow, deliberate thrust that makes us both gasp.
My voice is rough with desire as I feel her slick warmth enveloping me completely, her inner muscles fluttering around my hardness in a sweet, intimate embrace.
"No," she breathes, arching beneath me in that way that drives me wild with want, her nipples brushing against my chest as her body undulates sensuously.
Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with passion, lock with mine as her fingers dig into my shoulders.
"It feels like the most real thing that's ever happened to me.
" Her confession comes in a sultry whisper against my mouth, her warm breath mingling with mine as her thighs tighten around my hips, drawing me deeper into her molten core.
As I move inside her, slow and deep and thorough, each languid thrust a wordless covenant between our bodies, I make silent promises about protection and permanence and building something real together.
Her slick, velvety heat grips me with exquisite pressure, drawing me deeper into her sacred temple.
My fingertips trace the dewy curve of her hip, feeling her tremble beneath my touch as our bodies dance in primal rhythm.
Her body responds to mine like we've been lovers for years instead of hours, her legs wrapping around me with intuitive knowledge of exactly how to make me burn with desire, her inner muscles clenching around my hardness in a way that threatens to unravel my control completely.
And when she comes apart beneath me, her back arching in sublime surrender, her lips parting in a breathless gasp that transforms into my name—calling it like a benediction, a prayer whispered in the temple of our joined bodies—I know I'm completely lost to her, consumed by this inferno we've created together, willingly sacrificing all I am to the altar of her pleasure.
"I have to go to work," she says later, after we've showered together and I've watched her get dressed with the reluctance of a man who never wants to let his woman out of his sight.
"Take the day off," I suggest, only half-joking. "I'll make it worth your while."
Her laugh is music to my ears. "As tempting as that sounds, some of us have responsibilities that don't involve family businesses and unlimited expense accounts."
The reminder of our different worlds should worry me more than it does.
She's right—I have privileges and resources she doesn't, advantages that come from being born into this life rather than working for everything I have.
But instead of making me feel guilty, it makes me want to give her everything she's ever wanted.
"Let me drive you," I say, already reaching for my keys on the nightstand, my fingers brushing against the cold metal with practiced familiarity. The thought of extending our time together, even for the brief drive to her workplace, feels utterly necessary.
"Maxim, we should probably be careful about being seen together," she says gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern beneath long lashes.
The practical worry in her voice hits me like cold water, dousing the warm afterglow of our intimacy.
"Last night was incredible, absolutely mind-blowing, but your world and mine.
.. they exist in completely different orbits, with different rules and expectations. "
"What about them?" I ask, my tone deliberately casual despite the sudden tightness in my chest. Though I know exactly what she means—the invisible but unmistakable boundaries between our social circles, the potential complications, the whispers that would inevitably follow if we were discovered together.
"You know what I mean." She moves closer, pressing her palm against my chest over my heart. "I serve drinks to your brother's associates. If they think I'm sleeping with you..."
She doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to. I understand the implications, the ways our relationship could be viewed as improper or used against both of us. But looking into her brown eyes, seeing the uncertainty there, I make a decision that surprises me with its clarity.
"Then we'll be careful," I tell her, covering her hand with mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm. "But I'm not walking away from this. From you. Not when we've barely begun. We'll figure out how to make it work, no matter what obstacles appear in our path."
The smile that spreads across her face is radiant, lighting up her entire countenance, and she rises on her toes to kiss me softly, her lips gentle yet purposeful against mine.
"I don't want to walk away either," she admits, her voice a mixture of vulnerability and determination.
"Even though every rational part of my brain is screaming warnings and flashing danger signals like a malfunctioning traffic light. "
"Good," I say, pulling her closer until I can feel the contours of her body against mine, my arms encircling her waist possessively. "Because I plan to spend considerable time convincing your irrational side to override the rational one. I can be very persuasive when properly motivated."
After she leaves, I stand at my penthouse windows looking out over the city and thinking about everything that's changed in the span of twelve hours.
Last night I was a man who kept his personal life simple and separate from family business.
Today I'm planning ways to protect and cherish a woman who could complicate everything I've worked to build.
And for the first time in my life, I couldn't care less about the complications.