The Ideal Man

THIRTY

Max was waiting for Ellie downstairs. They said good night to her parents and her aunts and went up to the apartment. Max had left the window unit on low, and the bedrooms and hall were quite pleasant. The kitchen and the living room, however, were sweltering.

Ellie tripped out of her clothes, tossed the bloody and torn dress into the trash can, and got into the shower. She stood under the cool water with her eyes closed and tried to get her muscles to relax. She washed her hair, being careful to scrub around the cut, but she didn’t bother to blow it dry. She brushed it over her shoulders, put on her cotton nightgown, her moisturizer and body lotion, and was ready for bed.

The storm outside had picked up. Lightning lit up the bedroom, followed by loud claps of thunder. Rain pelted the windows.

Ellie didn’t ask Max if she could sleep with him. She pulled the sheet back and slid into bed beside him. He was on his stomach, one arm over the side of the bed, sound asleep. His gun, holster, and badge were on his bedside table. She rolled over to glance at the alarm clock and was shocked to see that it was after midnight. She closed her eyes. It had never taken her more than a minute or two to fall asleep, but tonight was different. Ten minutes passed, then ten more, and she was still wide-awake. This certainly was different for her.

Ellie replayed the day’s events, but when she got to Patterson, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. She took several deep, calming breaths. The threat was over; he was locked up and couldn’t bother anyone. This, too, was different. She could go anywhere and do anything now, couldn’t she?

Not quite. There were the Landrys and the possibility that a man named Cogburn might come after her.

And then there was Max. He was going back to Honolulu, and she would probably never see him again. It was for the best, she decided. He’d be safer there where people like Patterson weren’t shooting at him. Ellie knew she wasn’t being rational, but she was so rattled inside, she couldn’t think straight. Was she reacting to Patterson’s attack or was it the realization that Max was leaving?

No-brainer, she decided. It was Max. Ellie wanted to cry. She’d told him not to get attached to her, and look what she’d done. She’d fallen in love with him. So not acceptable.

She had to distance herself, or she’d become a blubbering idiot when he left. If she continued to lie there thinking about him, she’d start weeping now. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to get up. Max stopped her.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked as he pulled her down beside him.

“No, I can’t.”

“Come here.” His voice was warm and husky. He covered her with his body and began to nuzzle the side of her neck. He rubbed her arms, then moved to her sides. “Your skin’s cold.”

As he moved against her, his chest grazed her breasts, and the pleasure was so intense, she moaned. Ellie threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him toward her. His mouth took absolute possession, their tongues wild as they mated.

Max wanted to savor the feel of her, and when she wrapped her legs around his and moved seductively against his arousal, his mouth covered hers again, and he thrust inside her. Their lovemaking was wild, both of them losing control. Ellie screamed his name when the sensations began to spiral. Her orgasm lasted longer than his, and he held her tight in his arms until she recovered.

The scent of their passion clung to them, and they were both soaked with perspiration. Max could feel her heart pounding under his. He kissed her chin and lifted up to ask her if she was okay. Words weren’t necessary. Ellie was asleep.