When my head tipped back to look at him, Max asked, “She likes me?”

I decided the safest explanation was, “She likes that you call me Duchess.”

“That’s a weird thing to like.”

“Mom’s a bit nutty.”

“Not surprising,” he mumbled then he went on when my eyes started to narrow. “She turn into a hellion when she’s pissed too?”

I thought about this then I answered truthfully, “Yes, probably worse.”

“Steve her man?” Max asked and I nodded. “Poor Steve,” he muttered and I grinned.

His face changed, it was that soft I liked so much but there was something more, something much more and I felt the change somewhere deep, private and I held my breath for what was coming next.

He drew me even closer so our lower bodies were touching and he asked, “You okay?” I nodded but his arm gave me a squeeze. “Nina, I’m serious here, that was an intense f**kin’ scene. You okay?”

From nowhere I understood what else was in his face and when I understood it I realized why I didn’t recognize it. The only male who’d ever looked at me like that was Charlie and he was my brother so he was supposed to look at me like that in times like these.

It communicated a fierce sort of protection covered over with a tender mixture of worry and affection.

I couldn’t bear the hope it made me feel so I couldn’t witness it anymore. I dropped my head and fell forward so my forehead was resting on his chest and I curled my fingers on his bicep.

“I pretty much hate my Dad,” I whispered to his chest as his hand slid from my waist, up my back, to wrap around the back of my neck.

“Reason why, darlin’. I’m now gettin’ why you don’t talk about him.”

I nodded, my head moving on his chest then I admitted, “I hate it that you saw me that way, too.”

He gripped my neck and used it to pull me back.

When I looked at him, he asked, “Why?”

“It’s unattractive,” I answered, my voice soft and there was a tremor in it I couldn’t control which denoted a fear I didn’t want to admit but I still couldn’t hide. “And it isn’t nice.”

His hand at my neck gave me a squeeze, he put his coffee mug down and circled me with his other arm.

Then he ordered, “Put your arms around me, baby.”

I decided sharing time was over, so I suggested, “Max, we should make breakfast.”

He gave me a steely look that said clearly he wasn’t going to repeat his order so on a sigh I put my mug down too, pushed my hands under his arms and wrapped them around him.

“There was nothing unattractive about what I saw.”

“But I lost my temper,” I explained.

“You stuck up for yourself and then you stuck up for the memory of your brother. You didn’t take any shit, not even a little of it.” His face dipped close and he whispered, “That’s not unattractive, baby, that’s beautiful.”

My eyes filled with tears, my body melted into Max’s and the only thing I could think to say was, “Shut up, Max, you’re going to make me cry.”

He grinned a small grin, his head slightly slanted, he touched my lips in a light kiss then, regrettably, he pulled away.

“I had other plans for this mornin’, Duchess, and, much as it kills me to delay them a-fuckin’-gain, I want to take my time. We’ll have to save those for after we get Bitsy to the Station and then take her home.”

He might not have used a lot of words but all of them meant very frightening things since I had a pretty good idea what he meant by his “plans”. I couldn’t quite figure out what was most frightening so I picked what was safest.

“We?” I asked.

“We what?”

“We’re going to get Bitsy?”

His head gave a small jerk as if my question was surprising and he answered, “Yeah. Why?”

“I thought I’d stay home, read, maybe plot how I’ll drug and kidnap my father, drive him to the next state and dump him outside a Police Station with a note pinned to him saying that he killed JFK and was there to confess.”

“As worthwhile a way that is to spend your time, you’re comin’ with me to Bitsy’s.”

“Maybe Bitsy doesn’t want me to come,” I suggested halfheartedly for Bitsy lived in town and pretty much everyone in town had shown a rather healthy curiosity about me.

“Oh, Bitsy wants you to come, it was her idea,” Max informed me unsurprisingly.

That was what I was afraid of.

I sighed then I asked, “How much of a chance do I have of getting out of this?”

“Zip,” was his short, also unsurprising answer.

“Great,” I muttered, looking at his throat.

His arms gave me a squeeze and he called, “Duchess.”

I tipped my head back to look at him.

“She’ll love you,” he whispered.

Then, while I was processing his words, he kissed me. I forgot about Dad, Niles, Bitsy and his words.

I forgot about everything except the fact that his mouth was on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, the latter he could do amazing things with, I was in his arms and he was in mine.

When he seemed happy to keep making out in the kitchen, I was more than happy to let him do it and I took advantage of the fact that my arms were around him. I pulled up his shirt and slid both hands in.

Then I explored. And I liked what I felt, too much. So much, I moaned a little in his mouth and pressed closer.

If I could think, it might have dawned on me that Max just meant to make out in the kitchen. When I pressed in closer, the kiss grew deeper, wilder and his hand fisted in my nightie at the waist, bringing it up, while his other hand slid over my bottom.

I hadn’t had that in awhile, too long, and more importantly, it had never felt like that. In fact, it felt so good I moaned again, lost the ability to stand, gave him my weight and dug my nails in his back.

He growled into my mouth. I pressed my h*ps into his. His hand at my bottom slid up and then back down, this time in my panties.

That felt infinitely better.

“Max,” I breathed against his lips, liking his hand there a lot.

“Fuck, Duchess,” he growled against mine then repeated, “Fuck.”

His hand was moving over my behind and my head dropped forward, my lips against his neck, I touched my tongue there.