“What is Makayla doing in the kitchen?”

I position myself between a shaken Colton and a fuming Max, and plant my hands on my hips. “I asked if I could help out. Colton said no. I insisted. I wanted to do something to keep busy while you were on the phone. I’m not good at being idle.”

“Learn.”

My breath catches in my throat. “What did you just say?”

His eyes narrow. “I said learn. You are a guest in my home. Guests relax. I don’t want you working. That’s Colton’s job.”

“I want to be here.” I keep my voice low but my tone firm.

Max ignores me and glares at Colton. “I’ll speak to you outside.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was my mistake.”

“No. It wasn’t your mistake.” I walk up to Max and fold my arms. “It was my decision.”

“Makayla! This is a staff matter. It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does if Colton is reprimanded for something I did. If you want to fire someone, fire me. I’ve never been a good lettuce chopper.”

Max huffs out a breath. “I’m not going to fire anyone.”

“Good.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other as we stare at each other. Now what? I’ve never done drama queen before. Should I leave? No. He needs to listen and understand. That won’t happen if I run away.

I clench my teeth and exhale loudly. “I like that you want to look after me but not if it means you’re going to be all bossy and controlling. I can’t handle it. Sometimes you need to back off and trust that I can make my own decisions.”

Max frowns. “This is my house.”

I slide my hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down until I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. “This is your girl. And if you want your girl to stay in your house, you’d better apologize to Colton.”

His eyes darken and he wraps his arms around me. A low rumble starts deep in his chest. “My girl.”

I brush my lips lightly over his. “Yours,” I whisper. “And you are mine.”

“I apologize, Colton,” Max says abruptly. “I was out of line.”

“Much obliged, sir.” Colton unties his apron and hangs it on the peg. “The meal is ready at your convenience. I’ll go and set the table.”

“He’s very discrete,” I murmur against Max’s lips.

Max lifts me up and settles me on the island. He trails his fingers along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, pressing them gently apart to accommodate his hips. “He likes you.”

“How do you know?” His fingers trace lazy circles closer and closer to my center. I put a hand on his shoulder to steady myself as desire spirals through me.

“You’re in his kitchen. He never lets anyone in his kitchen. But I’m not surprised. You have a way of making people feel comfortable. You listen to them. Really listen. I’ll bet you know as much about Colton after your short time with him as I do. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“He’s had an interesting life.”

Max chortles. “And you’re an interesting girl.”

“I’m a hungry girl.” I point to the pots on the stove. “I would hate for his meal to get wasted. He put a lot of time and effort into it.”

Max wraps his arms around me and kisses me long and deep. “Food is about the last thing on my mind, but you’ll need your energy for later.”

My breath catches in my throat. “What happens later?”

He gives me a wicked grin. “You’ll have to wait to find out.”

I run my finger along the top edge of his belt, stopping at the center of his belt buckle. “What if I don’t want to wait?”

***

Half an hour later, the Agusta glides to a stop at the top of San Francisco’s most famous peak. The city twinkles below us, and the stars are so close in the dark night sky, I could almost reach up and touch them.

Max gently pulls my helmet over my head and places it on the stone retaining wall.

I look around and snort a laugh. “I can’t believe you brought me to Twin Peaks.”

“Why?” He takes off his own helmet and places it beside mine.

“This is the makeout spot in Oakland. No one comes to Twin Peaks at night for the view.”

“I didn’t bring you here for the view,” Max rumbles. He pats the seat in front of him, and my legs turn to jelly.

Wary of the hot exhaust pipes, I climb onto the seat facing him. The space is so narrow I can barely squeeze in front of him and Max has to ease himself back along the pillion seat. My heart pounds against my ribs when I meet his smoldering gaze. “Max Huntington. Did you take me up here to make out?”

He cups my face between his hands. “Dinner first. Then dessert.” My stomach flutters at his words, and a shiver wracks my body. My need escapes with the softest moan.

“God, Makayla.” He leans down and slants his mouth over mine. Everything inside me softens. His tongue parts my lips and sweeps inside my mouth, stroking, touching, tasting. Even better than last time.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs against my lips, “or you’ll never get your dinner.”

“Don’t want dinner.”

“You’ll need the energy.” His voice drips with sensual promise and I only just manage to restrain myself from ripping my new leathers off my body and begging him to take me right on his motorcycle.