Free A Matter of Grave Concern by Brenda Novak

said. “Should you get loose, the key to the door is in the pocket of my trousers. But now that you can’t shoot me, you might have some difficulty getting it. And if you were to try such a thing when I am not fully awake and capable of governing my faculties, you just might learn how far from your expectations sexual congress can be.”
    Abigail narrowed her eyes. “I thought you weren’t tempted.”
    He stretched out on the bed, yawned and closed his eyes. “I never said that.”
    Was he teasing her? “Why else would a man of no moral fiber refuse the offer I have made?”
    “I will let you figure that one out for yourself.”
    She inched closer to him. “So that’s it? You’re going to sleep?”
    He cracked one eye open. “Doesn’t it look that way to you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
    “What about . . .” She was afraid to say Jack’s name, but she had to. Abigail didn’t like surprises. She preferred to know what was coming so she could organize it or prepare for it or, at the very least, count on it. “. . . Big Jack?”
    “He is not as big as he would like you to believe.”
    “ What? ”
    He chuckled. “Never mind. Emmett went home, and Tom and Jack have both had so much to drink I think we’re safe for tonight.”
    Did he mean it? “But . . . but what will happen in the morning?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Which is why I need my rest.” Punching his pillow, he rolled over.
    She pulled at the bonds on her wrists, hoping to get them to loosen, but succeeded only in making them tighter. “You’re just going to . . . to leave me here like this?”
    “I am considering a gag. Would that satisfy you?”
    She drew herself up straight. “Not at all, sir. But I would like a word or two of assurance.”
    “Oh, right. I forgot.” When he got up and came toward her, Abigail feared she had said something to trigger a backlash. She pressed herself into the corner, then stood, helpless and uncertain, as he cupped her chin and tilted up her face. “This might hurt a bit,” he warned, “but you will thank me in the morning.”

    “Ouch! That does hurt! What are you doing?” she asked, trying to wiggle away from the roughness of his chin as he chafed it against her face and neck.
    Max could feel the ridge of Miss Hale’s collarbone beneath his cheek, then more smooth skin as he slid his chin up the column of her throat. “I am leaving a few marks on you, for Jack’s edification,” he said. “He will never believe you were ravished without something to show for it.” Pausing just below her left earlobe, he began to suck on her neck.
    She squirmed some more, resisting, but that soon subsided and she started to giggle. He guessed from her bossiness that she didn’t laugh often but, strangely enough considering all the trouble she had caused him, he liked the sound of it.
    “Nothing in my father’s books said anything about this ,” she said. “What on earth are you doing? Stop! It tickles. What could possibly be the point?”
    He lifted his head only when he was satisfied that he had left a deep purple mark. “What your father’s books didn’t tell you, Miss Hale, is that much of what goes on between a man and a woman, at least in the bedroom, has no point. It is simply for the sake of pleasure, for the pure, heady passion of reveling in the opposite sex, of letting go of all inhibition long enough to enjoy giving everything and receiving everything all at the same time.”
    He knew his voice sounded slightly hoarse, but she smelled so damn clean and fresh. And her skin—it had to be the softest he had ever touched.
    Moonlight lit her face as she cocked a finely arched eyebrow at him. “You seem quite well versed on the subject.”
    “I have never read any bloody medical journals, that’s for damn sure. After hearing what they have to say, I think I’m glad.”
    “What’s wrong with what they say?”
    Max ignored her in favor