Free The Reluctant Nude by Meg Maguire Page B

revealing that body so maddeningly adept at making Fallon’s heart skip a beat. Tossing it aside, he reached down and unbuckled his thick belt. Fallon felt her eyes widen, embarrassed but transfixed as he lowered the zipper and eased his jeans down over slim, toned hips. The garment dropped to the floor and Max stepped out, toying with the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, eyes glued to Fallon’s, demanding her answer to an unspoken question.
    “No. Stop there.” Even as she said it, her eyes roamed to his arms, his navel, the bulge between his thighs. She stopped breathing for several seconds.
    “Go on, then.” His voice was shallow and sharp, a challenge. “Touch me. You can bind my hands if you like.” As if to illustrate this offer, he crossed his wrists and raised them, grasping the iron bars of the staircase behind his head, so disturbingly reminiscent of Fallon’s dreams. A slow smile overtook his lips.
    She swallowed and shook her head. “No, thank you.”
    He caught her eyes with his. “This isn’t about sex, you know.”
    Like hell it wasn’t.
    “This is about sensation,” he said. “Connection.”
    “Fine,” she muttered, feeling as though she was both winning and losing this strange battle of wills. With a steadying breath, she fanned her fingers and set them on his shoulders. The heat of him shocked her anew. Max kept solemn, eyes following her hands as she grazed his neck then traced the tattoo along his collarbone. Clavicula ,read the miniscule label. She ran her palms up and down those powerful biceps. His chest was hard and warm under her palms, and she felt his heart beating fast, giving him away behind his veneer of self-control. She melted into the act as she surveyed his tight abdomen, flesh tensing at her touch. She cupped the crests of his hips, feeling the power there, finding it so very easy to picture these muscles pumping hard, flanked by her own legs.
    “Keep going,” he whispered, the rasp in his voice sounding unintentional. “Do you feel what I’m talking about? Do you feel my energy?”
    She nodded, awestruck. His entire body was vibrating, imperceptible but nevertheless unmistakable. “I can feel it.”
    Fallon’s curious hands explored his ribs and waist, the outsides of his thighs. She blushed, then let herself touch his backside. Hard, like the rest of him. His hips tensed. Behind the soft cotton of his briefs, he was growing for her. Her blush deepened, warming not just her cheeks, but her breasts and belly and down between her legs. Her fingertips flirted with the dark curls that trailed from his navel down, mere centimeters from the rigid curve of his erection.
    “You still say this isn’t about sex?” she asked softly.
    Max’s mouth quirked to one side.
    “Do you want me to keep going?” As her thumb edged along his waistband, she wasn’t sure what answer she was hoping for.
    “What do you want?” he asked, breath short.
    His body was so close and ready. No man had ever made Fallon feel this way so… violently before. Ever. Not even close.
    “Have you proven your point yet?” She feigned contempt, studying his powerful body as haughtily as she could muster.
    “Nearly.”
    She moved on, palms surveying his chest and shoulders again, up to the powerful arms bracketing his face. Those arms… She wanted to see them like in her dreams, tensed and fearsome and struggling against restraints.
    From this close, all Max had to do was close the few inches that separated their faces. Fallon gasped as his lips took hers. Heat flooded her chest, but her body’s curiosity was no match for her shock and she pulled away.
    “Don’t ever do that again,” she warned, voice low. She hoped her tone would read as anger, not arousal. She swallowed.
    Max stared at her for a few breaths, then released the bars of the stairway. It took a concerted effort for Fallon to wrestle her attention from the flexing contours of his bare torso, and elsewhere. She glued her eyes to