Chapter 10 #3
His fingers were callused with hard work and a lifetime of strength. He wasn’t a lord, he wasn’t the manager of a factory, he was just Max. Her Max.
And he loved her.
The way she loved him.
When he settled down on the sofa against the window, she went willingly, straddling his thighs. Her palms bracketed his cheeks, and she kissed him as he stroked her wet folds, readying her.
When she sank down atop him, they both groaned in pleasure.
“Slowly, lass,” he growled, and despite the tightness, Ember found herself smiling, full of joy at his caring, and the way he mimicked his brothers’ brogue.
Then she was fully seated, her core stretched deliciously around his hard length, their pelvises pressed against one another as they sat, nose to nose, staring into one another’s eyes.
“I love you, Ember Oliphant,” Max whispered.
Her grin flashed. “You are not just saying that because I am sitting on your cock?”
The way he flushed was adorable. To think that he could be embarrassed at a time like this?
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Ember shifted her weight to her knees and rocked forward just slightly, pulling her core across him, causing him to slide out of her just a fraction before she sat back again.
The sensation had her gasping as pleasure spiked through her, but Max was silent, his gaze intent and his hands locked on her hips, helping her move.
He was watching her. Watching her pleasure.
Watching her take her pleasure.
Grinning, Ember gave him a show.
With each tiny movement, each gently rocking, she brought herself closer and closer to the edge, undulating against him and around him. She loved the way he watched carefully, his lips tight, as if fighting to maintain control.
Ember wanted to tell him to let go, to lose control…but she was so consumed by the sensations coursing through her body, she couldn’t form the words.
Each time she rocked, each time she rose up on her knees and sank back down again, the exquisite friction caused her to gasp in joy. Her pleasure built and built until she was drowning in it.
Yes.
Then he began to speak.
“Do you know how beautiful you are, my Ember?” Max murmured, his palms sliding down her thighs, then back up again. “Perfect. I’ve dreamed of you like this.”
“Like what?” she gasped.
He leaned forward, and the movement sent a spike of ecstasy through her.
“Pleasuring yourself on me,” he rasped, his hand moving around to cup her curls. “Using my body like this.”
“Max!” she moaned, half objecting, half lost in bliss. “I want…”
“I know, love. I know.”
With that vow, Max’s fingers found her clitoris, and when he stroked it, Ember went mad. She bucked against him, and as his cock slid in and out of her, she lost herself in delight.
“Max!” She screamed his name as she came around his cock, her entire body jerking as wave after wave of pleasure slammed into her.
He continued to stroke her—her curls, her breasts, her throat, her thighs—whispering harsh words of praise and love. Her pleasure stretched on forever.
Then, as she slowly deflated, shocked and in amazement, Max began to move. He clamped his hands on her hips, lifted her just enough that he could thrust upward into her sensitive channel. The sensation caused her to gasp and grab his shoulders, wondering if she could come for a third time.
But she didn’t have the chance to find out, because after his third thrust, Max pulled his cock from her, wrapping one hand around it and stroking a fourth time. With a wordless roar, he found release, his seed erupting across her curls and his stomach.
He collapsed, boneless against the back of the sofa. Smiling, Ember followed, content to curl in his arms with his spend sticky between them.
She didn’t know how much time passed, the clock on his desk ticking the minutes by as they floated together in a sea of satiation. After a long while, though, Max stirred, gathering her against him as he sat up.
“Wh—?” she began, but he silenced her with a quick kiss.
“Hush. Let me care for you.”
And so he carried her to the attached washroom, and gently cleaned her. There was something unbelievably erotic about seeing his seed spread across her skin, and Ember felt her core throbbing pleasantly. She smiled as he washed himself, content to just watch.
“When can we do that again?” she asked out of the blue.
The surprised glance Max sent her said he hadn’t been expecting it. He flushed slightly.
“I want to explain my past to you, Ember.” He looked so intense as he reached for her hand. Instinctively, she laid hers in his open palm. “I mean, what I want is to taste you again…but before I can talk you into that—”
“You would not have to talk too hard.” She winked, but he merely glanced away. So she squeezed his hand. “Max?”
He took a deep breath and tugged her out of the wash room, and left her standing in the center of the room as he bent to scoop up her chemise. When Max tugged it over her head, she began to feel a little anxious.
“Max, what is going on?” she asked as her face emerged.
“I’m worried you’ll catch cold.”
It was sweet and kind, and Ember felt herself smiling as he helped her into her skirt. Then he draped her blouse around her shoulders and led her back to the sofa, where they’d just shared their romantic interlude.
When she sat, Ember reached for him, but Max apparently wasn’t in the mood to sit. Still nude, he padded across the room to pick up his smalls, which he struggled into. When he reached for his trousers, she grew impatient.
“Maxwell DeVille, just tell me what is on your mind! You are not regretting what we shared, I hope?”
He spun about, his trousers hanging from his hand. “Never. Ember, I want…”
His gaze dropped to the floor, and she pressed. “What do you want?”
“Forever.” His eyes lifted and he took a breath. “I want forever with you, Ember, but first you need to know…”
Her fingers were knotted together in her lap. “Tell me.”
Max took his time stepping into his trousers, but when he straightened and buttoned them, he met her gaze. “I spent my life as a drudge, Ember. An unpaid servant.”
Her brows rose. “Like me?”
“Yes, but…” He shook his head and turned away, reaching for his shirt. “My father was the one who treated me that way. I was always second-best—no, my brother Roy, Jr. was the best and second-best and third-best in my father’s eyes. Even before my mother died, I remember him raging at her. At me.”
Ember’s heart had clenched, and now she wrapped her arms around herself. “Did—did he hurt her? You.”
The long, tanned column of his throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes. Many times. I spent my life wondering what I had done wrong. And working—so hard—to try to make him love me.”
“But he did not. No matter how quickly you followed his orders.”
Max met her gaze and his hands dropped from where he’d been tugging on his shirt. “Should’ve guessed you know exactly how that feels.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “I have always known my stepmother wasn’t going to love me, no matter how hard I tried.”
He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“So you see, Ember,” he asked, as he met her eyes once more, “every time you told me I was somehow better than you, just because of my position, I knew you were wrong. I grew up as nothing—less than nothing, and this still feels like a—a fairy tale.” He gestured around his office.
“This responsibility, this honor. Finding my family. You.”
Her heart ached for him. “You deserve it, Max. You belong here. At least you know the man you thought was your father…”
“Right.” Max blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand through his hair.
“Hearing Mr. Prince’s theory made a lot of things clear to me.
I understood why my—why Roy DeVille was so angry at me and my mother.
It didn’t make it right, not by a long shot, but knowing I wasn’t his kid…
” He shook his head. “At least I could stop wondering what I did wrong.”
Ember shot to her feet. “You did nothing wrong, Max. You were a child—a babe! And I cannot blame your mother for looking for comfort in the arms of someone else—our laird is a handsome man, and—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Max chuckled, reaching for her arms to calm her down. “I don’t blame her either. Being welcomed by my family here—it’s been…” He shrugged. “Wonderful. I’m glad to learn I’m not really a DeVille, trust me.”
She lifted her hand to his cheek. “You are not a devil or a DeVille, Max,” she said softly. “You belong here, with your family.”
His hands tightened on her. “I belong here. With you.”
Oh yes, he’d said that earlier, hadn’t he? Forever.
“You have built a life here. Your house will be done soon.”
When he swallowed, she found her gaze dropping to his throat.
“It’s done now,” he rasped. “That’s why I left the inn. But…” He glanced away again. “It’s not what I was hoping it would be.”
“Why not?” She ached to hold him, and so she did, resting her hands on his hips. Not because of how he made her feel, but in order to make him feel better. Safer. Loved.
Without looking at her, Max confessed in a quiet voice, “Because you’re not there, Ember. Everywhere I look in that house, I think of you and how much I’d like to have you there with me. I know the way I feel for you; I know it’s fast. I know it almost feels like—magic. But it’s still true.”
And for one perfect, shining moment, the world ceased to move. Ember stopped breathing, her pulse quieted in her ears, and she felt herself smile.
Then she exhaled and the world started to turn again, but slower. More softly, somehow.
“Are you saying you want a future with me, Max?”
His palms slid down her arms to her wrists, then to her hips. He tugged her closer, and Ember lifted her hands to spread her fingers across his bare chest. They were pressed against each other.
Where they belonged.
“I want a future with you, Ember Oliphant.” His gaze was serious. “But I wanted you to know, first, about my past. So when you think I’m some kind of high-and-mighty…lord or something, you’ll remember who I really am.”
“Oh, Max,” she breathed, her smile blooming. “Who you really are is Max DeVille—no, Max Oliphant! A hard-working manager of my ancestral business. I was so angry—not at you, but at myself—for not realizing who you were, and I was embarrassed too.”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I never told you my name, or my position, and when you made assumptions, I should’ve guessed what you meant.”
“You know what they say about assumptions?” She cocked her head to one side. “They make asses out of umptions.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Ember.” A grin tickled his lips.
She shrugged. “We Highlanders are a mysterious breed.”
Chuckling, he snuggled her closer. “Can you forgive me for not telling you who I was?”
“Can you forgive me for being so angry, when it was not your fault at all?”
Pursing his lips, he pretended to think about it.
“I suppose so. But will you please stop telling me you’re just a serving lass?
After all, you’re soon to be a patent holder, and assuming—although that would make an ass out of uming, by your logic—you’re still willing to work with Oliphant Engraving, you’ll soon be part of a very lucrative new line of products. ”
Her smile grew in excitement, a future of possibilities stretching out in front of her. “Only if you stop telling me you are just a cowboy. You ran a successful horse ranch, and now you run a very successful engraving industry.”
“I love you, Ember.”
It was the sincerity in his tone which caused her to sigh in pleasure, but when his lips claimed hers, she sighed again. This kiss was softer, sweeter, and full of promise.
“Ember,” he began, after he’d tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her in his arms, “you’ve worked so hard for other people: your stepmother, who doesn’t appreciate it, and your stepsisters.”
“My sisters at least appreciate me.” When he hummed diplomatically, she knew he was thinking of Tiffany. “The Oliphant Inn would likely collapse without me.”
“But that’s not your problem, love. That’s your stepmother’s problem.
She can hire more servants to do what you were doing for free.
You deserve the chance to chase your own dreams, to work hard for something you desire.
Like making sure all the finest ladies in Scotland are wearing Oliphant engraved shoes next season. ”
She smiled against his shoulder, her arms tightening around him. “That is not my only dream.”
“Dare I hope it has something to do with me?”
Feeling powerful, she hummed and wriggled against him. “Perhaps.”
When he took a deep breath, she felt his chest expand against her. “Ember, I want to make your dreams come true. I want to give you the freedom to work toward your own goals, for your own happiness.”
“Why, Mr. DeVille-turned-Oliphant”—she pulled back so she could look into his eyes and pretended surprise—“are you offering me another job?”
“Yes. But I’ve already hired a housekeeper. Mrs. Oliphant.”
“Of course.” She nodded, as if they shared a secret. “Which one?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I plan on paying her handsomely, so you don’t have to do anything around our home you don’t want to do.”
Our home. She liked the sound of that. “So what job are you offering?”
His lips slowly tugged upward. “Well, it’s less of a job and more of a position.”
Her heart began to speed up again. “What—what kind of position?” she asked, imagining all sorts of naughty positions the two of them could get into.
“Marry me, Ember,” he whispered. “Please?”
“Can I wear my fancy dress again?”
His eyes searched hers. “I’ll even return your beautiful bronze shoe to wear down the aisle. But then I’m taking it back.”
“What for?”
“To remind me appearances don’t mean everything. I danced with a beautiful, intriguing lady who wore that shoe, but it was the shoe’s creator I fell in love with.”
Ember melted against him with a sigh. “I suppose I ought to tell you that I love you.”
His expression lit. “That would be nice, yes.”
“I love you, Max.”
When he smiled, she matched it.
“So does that mean you’ll marry me? Help me run Oliphant Engraving, which your father did before me? Create a new fashion trend? Make my house a home?”
How could she say no? “I think all of those dreams sound just lovely.”
“Is that a yes?”
Her grin grew. “No, Max. This is the Highlands. That was an aye.”
He was laughing when his lips claimed hers once more.