“Let me tell you everything I want, Carina. I’ve been lying in my bed these past weeks with an erection that won’t go away. Thinking of that night, over and over, and wondering how many different ways I can make you come.”

Heat engulfed her. Her breasts swelled against the constraints of her bra and her nipples tightened to painful points. Holding her completely under his spell, he lowered his head and stopped inches from her lips. His scent swam around her and made her dizzy. He pressed a thumb to her lower lip and dragged it across. “I know you’re pissed. I know I fucked up. But I want you so bad I’m going out of my head. Why not give ourselves this?”

His words held a deep truth she so desperately wanted to believe. This she could trust. His penis pressed against her thigh, and her body wept for relief. Toe-curling, orgasmic, satisfying sex. No more. No less.

Just like that night.

Carina hesitated on the edge of the abyss. Could she play such a dangerous game, knowing she still felt so deeply for him?

He reached out and grabbed a clean paintbrush from the easel. With slow, deliberate motions, he ran the brush down her cheek. She shivered at the teasing touch, and her nerve endings sizzled like eggs on a hot skillet. “Say yes. Because I want to play.”

Her knees weakened in true cliché form. She wondered if she’d faint also, or kick up her leg when he finally kissed her. Arousal pounded through her bloodstream and hit her clit until there was no other answer to give.

“Yes.”

His fingers moved, unbuttoning the smock and tossing it on the floor. Her shirt came up over her head. He studied her black bra with a bad-boy stare and reached around her. She hissed out a breath as he unsnapped it with one deft motion and the skimpy lace fell to her feet. Big hands cupped her breasts, lifting, stroking, until a moan rose from her throat. Without pause, his fingers slipped down and pulled the snap of her shorts. Slid the zipper down. And tugged them off.

Trying not to pant, she stood in front of him in a tiny black thong. A hot blush stained her cheeks. He bent his head and kissed her. Deeply and thoroughly, with a lazy sweep of his tongue. The taste of coffee and mint intoxicated her, until she pressed against him and nipped at his mouth in punishment. When he pulled away, a savage glint lit his blue eyes. “You are so fucking beautiful. Let me look at you. All of you.”

Half drunk from his burning stare, she slipped out of the panties.

Max gazed at her for a long time, hungrily touching every part of her body bared to him. Knowing he was fully dressed only added to the wetness between her legs and the feeling of being overtaken and commanded. With a satisfied smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a long silk scarf.

Her eyes widened. “Are we doing the Fifty Shades of Grey thing?” she whispered.

Max laughed. “Dio, I adore you. We can discuss. For tonight, I just want to blindfold you for a taste test. Do you trust me?”

She hesitated, then reminded herself it was only her body, only sex. “Yes.”

The fabric was cool as he tied it over her eyes and gently knotted it. Blackness engulfed her. It took a moment for her to gain her bearings. She used her sense of smell and the feel of his body heat to locate his position. Her ears strained as she heard a cap twisted and a soft hiss, then the swish of clothes. His gravelly voice low in her ear.

“Relax and enjoy. Tell me what you smell.”

She took a deep breath and the heavenly rich scent made her moan. “Chocolate.”

“Very good. Now a taste.” He placed a tiny drop on her tongue. The bittersweet flavor exploded in her mouth in a sweet sugar rush.

“Hmmm.” Her tongue swept out and licked her bottom lip. “Delicious.”

He sucked in his breath. “My turn.”

She opened her mouth and waited, but nothing came. Instead, the gentle stroke of a brush against her nipple surprised her. She jerked back in reaction, but he continued the insistent, teasing motions, until her nipple felt covered in chocolate. Carina gasped at the sensation as the buds tightened in anticipation. “Beautiful,” he murmured. His tongue was hot and wet as he licked it off her, until she arched and hung on to his shoulders for balance. Darts of arousal pinged her body, and she grew wet and achy. “You’re right, baby. The chocolate is delicious.”

“Bastard.”

His low laugh raked across her nerve endings. “You’ll pay for that.”

And she did. He painted her other nipple and sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and around until she begged for mercy. The paintbrush became an instrument of torture and orgasmic ecstasy. He drew a line down the valley of her breasts and dipped into her belly button. Licked it off. Nibbled across her stomach and down her thighs. His breath blew hot across her core, but he firmly ignored her pleas and investigated the sensitive curve of her knee, her calf, and even her ankle.

Carina dissolved into a mass of writhing sensation. Her mind spun, trapped in darkness and guided to every peak and valley by the sound of his voice, or the touch of his hands. She panted as she closed in on a powerful orgasm, caught on the precipice and awaiting his next demand.

“Please. I can’t take any more.”

He shushed her and painted her lips with the chocolate. Then kissed her, deep and hungry, sharing the sweet taste between them. Her lids pricked with frustrated tears. Suddenly, he lifted her in the air and she was carried. The sound of brushes clattering and jars bouncing rose to her ears. He pressed her down on a hard surface, which she quickly calculated as the art table. “We’re almost done. There’s just one place I haven’t tasted yet.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes.” He parted her legs and the brush teased the tight bud between her legs. Dipped in her channel. She dug her nails into her palms and fought for sanity.

Then he put his mouth on her.

She cried out and came hard, her body wracked in spasm after spasm. Tears pricked her lids as she shattered and he held her down on the table, making her ride out each wave until it was over. Carina heard a rip, and a curse. Then he claimed her.

The silky thrust of his erection drove her back to the peak, and this time he joined her when she orgasmed the second time. Time stopped. Hours, minutes, seconds ticked by. The blindfold loosened and she blinked.

His face came into view. Heavy brows. Hard cheekbones. Granite-like jaw and sensual, full lips Michelangelo would’ve wept over. He smiled. “Did you like the chocolate?”

She sputtered a laugh. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you? Christian Grey has nothing on you.”

He laughed with her. “My name might be similar, but I’d never say ‘Laters, baby.’ ”

Her mouth fell open. “You read it!”

He looked offended. “Saw it on Twitter. Now don’t piss me off or I’ll torture you with Cool Whip.”

Carina wondered if something was wrong with her. The idea sounded a bit too interesting.

He helped her off the table and pushed her hair back with a gentle motion. The sudden arrangement she agreed to finally crystallized. No longer at the mercy of her body, Carina wondered if she’d just made an agreement with the Devil. Her nakedness only added to the vulnerability. Did she really think it was possible to separate sex from her feelings for this man? Panic clawed at her gut. “Max, I—”

“Not tonight, baby.” As if he realized her dilemma, he scooped her up in his arms. “I’m taking you to bed now. I’ll show you some of my other skills learned from reading erotic romance novels.”

Carina clung to him and decided not to delve any further.

• • •

“Are you and Carina having problems?”

They met in the study. The large windows looked out over the formal gardens and the sound of buzzing bees and streaming water floated through the open screens. Michael handed him a glass of cognac and they settled into the oversized leather chairs. The room gave off an aura of calm and serenity, with ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, red art deco lamps, and the baby grand piano against the far wall. The smell of leather, paper, and orange wood polish filled the air.

After Carina broke the news to her brother about leaving, he’d asked to see Max privately after work. Max agreed, knowing it was time to clear some things up. Too many lies had been told and he was getting sick of it. “Why do you ask?”

“She’s the heir to the family business. I didn’t give her a hard time because I figured she needed to get the art thing out of her system. Now she wants to work with Alexa at the bookstore and I’m worried. I intend to pass La Dolce Maggie on to her as my second in command. It is her legacy.”

His throat tightened. Blood was blood, and he didn’t have it. No matter he worked his ass off and made the company a success. He may be welcomed as family, but would never be called family, even though he married Carina. If Michael didn’t want him to take the helm, it was time he looked elsewhere. Built something of his own. But damned if he’d let his friend mess with his wife.

His voice nipped as frosty as a chilled bottle of Moretti. “Get over it, Michael. She doesn’t want to work for the bakery, and she’s not going to.”

Michael waved his hand in the air, used to getting what he wanted. “You can help me convince her.”

“No.”

Michael stared. “What?”

He uncurled himself from the chair and closed the distance. “I said no. She’s happy painting. And guess what? She’s amazing. Carina has talent and passion and she’s been told too many times it’s just a hobby by all of us. She’s finding out who she is and I love watching her. And if I’m not good enough for you because I don’t have your precious blood running through my veins, it’s time I moved on.”

Michael jerked as if hit. “Scusi? What are you talking about?”

“Give your precious bakery to Maggie, or to your children. I’m done hoping I’ll be enough.” A crazy laugh escaped his lips. “Funny, I think I finally see how Carina has felt all these years. Trying to measure up but just missing the mark. Leave her alone. Let her be who she wants, without us telling her what we want.”

Michael placed his glass on the coaster and stared. “I never knew you felt like this. Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I wanted to be enough without relying on our friendship.”

His friend threw out a tirade of colorful curses. “All this time I counted on you to be there and never questioned your role. Because you are family, Maximus. My brother, my friend, my right-hand man. You being involved in the business was never in question. I just never thought to put it in writing. Mi dispiace. I will correct this.”

The simplicity of his acceptance stunned him. All this time, and it had nothing to do with not being good enough. Just the common male trait of barreling forward and forgetting to make his feelings known. The dream of everything he worked so hard for shimmered in front of him. All he needed to do was reach out and take it.

Time to put everything on the table.

“I slept with your sister in Vegas.”

The words rang out like a tire blowout in the middle of church.