Free Breaking Point by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

shoulders, and Max felt himself start to sweat as he tried to hang on, as he watched her, memorized her, burning an indelible picture of this moment, this woman, into his brain. This woman that he lusted after with every cell in his body, with every single breath he took . . .
    Her mouth, slightly open, lips soft and moist. Her throat, so elegantly, gracefully long. Her eyelashes dark against the smoothness of her cheeks. Her breasts so full, her body taut with desire, smooth and soft and welcoming. And his.
    All his.
    He came with a rush that caught him off-guard, ripping through him with an intensity and power that made him shout nonsense.
    Yes.
    Yes?
    Yes, what? Yes, he was coming. Yes, it felt unbelievably great.
    No fucking kidding.
    He felt her release, too, and he opened his eyes and made himself focus as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. He wanted to watch her, wanted to take the most from this stupidly bad mistake that he possibly could.
    It was a mistake he couldn’t let happen again.
    After she finished, she didn’t collapse against him, still considerately careful of the new scars on his chest, of the tenderness from his barely healed collarbone. She just sat atop him, arms wrapped around herself, clasping him tightly with her thighs, eyes still closed, face still upturned, as she struggled to regain her breath.
    With the sunlight streaming in behind her, she looked like some pagan celebrant at worship.
    And then she opened her eyes and looked down at him, frowning slightly. “Is that Spy Museum exhibit still open? I bet Vic would really like to go there.”
    What?
    “No, I think it closed,” she answered herself. “It was only a limited run exhibition. Right?”
    “I don’t, um . . .” Max shook his head. “Remember.” One part of him was amazed that they were just continuing their conversation about her brother’s visit, as if they hadn’t just had sex, as if he wasn’t still inside of her. Another part of him—the part that always waited with amused excitement to see just what she’d say or do next, was already starting to get turned on again.
    Naked women did that to him, and Gina was one of those women who managed to be naked with a capital N.
    She was unbelievably beautiful.
    “You mind if I use your laptop to Google it?” she asked.
    As long as you don’t put on your clothes first.
Max clenched his teeth over the words. Lighthearted banter would turn what they’d just done from a crazy mistake into the beginning of a real relationship.
    Happy ending, his ass. Gina wasn’t looking for an end to anything.
    And he opened his mouth to tell her that he couldn’t do this, that he wasn’t ready yet—that he might never be ready for what she wanted, when someone knocked loudly on his door.
    “Blood pressure check!” The doorknob rattled, as if the nurse were intending just to walk in, but the lock held, thank God. The nurse knocked again.
    “Oh, shit,” Gina breathed, laughing as she scrambled off of him. She reached to remove the condom they’d just used, encountered . . . him, and met his eyes. But then she scooped her clothes off the floor and ran into the bathroom.
    “Mr. Bhagat?” The nurse knocked on the door again. Even louder this time. “Are you all right?”
    Oh, shit, indeed. “Come in,” Max called as he pulled up the blanket and leaned on the button that put his bed back up into a sitting position. The same control device had a “call nurse” button as well as the clearly marked one that would unlock the door.
    “It’s locked,” the nurse called back, as well he knew.
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, as he wiped off his face with the edge of the sheet. Sweat much in bed, all alone, Mr. Bhagat? “I must’ve . . . Here, let me figure out how to . . .” He took an extra second to smooth his hair, his pajama top, and then, praying that the nurse had a cold and couldn’t smell the scent of sex that lingered in the air, he hit the release.
    “Please