Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

      She’d wanted him. That much was a reality, even if he’d taken over from there, slamming her against the wall and losing it a little as he pounded himself into her.

      He ran his hands over and over the short bristle of his hair, staring at the ceiling. Then he rolled out of bed. He descended the stairs quietly, reluctant to wake Maddy before he was ready to face her.

      Given what had happened, there was something he needed to take care of this morning. Something he should have done yesterday, perhaps even the day before.

      After a quick shower, he dressed and slipped outside to make a few phone calls without disturbing her. He paused near her bed when he reentered the apartment, his cheeks tingling from the cold outside. Her back was to him, her hair tangled on the pillow.

      He could still feel the silk of it sliding through his fingers last night.

      He forced himself to keep walking. In the kitchen, he quietly prepared breakfast for one.

      He was standing at the table reading the newspaper when he heard her stir. He looked over as she sat up, pushing her hair off her face. She looked flushed and soft. Very sexy and kissable. He quickly returned his attention to the newspaper.

      He flicked the page over and concentrated on a story about student protests at the Sorbonne and didn’t allow himself to look up again until he heard the scuff of her footsteps. She stopped a few feet away and eyed him uncertainly.

      Her face was pale, tense. They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out beat. Then Maddy made an inarticulate sound and crossed the distance between them. He froze as her arms slid around him and her body pressed against his. She held him tightly, her cheek resting on his chest. After a fraction of a second’s hesitation he returned her embrace.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should never have kissed you like that last night.”

      Her words were muffled, she was holding him so tightly.

      “I don’t even know why it happened. You mean too much for me to screw up our relationship with sex. We’ve been friends for so long, and I value you so much. You’re one of the few people I can rely on the in the world and I don’t want it to change things between us.”

      He could hear the tears in her voice. Her body was trembling with emotion. He hated seeing her so upset.

      “It’s okay, Maddy.” He lifted a hand to smooth her hair.

      She lifted her face to look at him. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

      “I don’t want to lose you, Max.”

      “You haven’t. It was one night.”

      “I don’t even know why it happened,” she said again.

      He squeezed the nape of her neck, then eased out of her embrace.

      “You’re freaking out over your career, under pressure. And I’ve got some shit going on, too. We were just letting off steam,” he said.

      It was the rational, sensible take on what had happened. A version of events that gave them both a get-out-of-jail-free card.

      She studied his face, her brow furrowed. Whatever she saw there seemed to reassure her, because her frown slowly faded.

      “Thank you,” she said. The tears were back then, and she blinked rapidly.

      “We were both there, Maddy. Last time I looked, it still took two to do what we did,” he said. “Stop blaming yourself.”

      “When you’ve ruined as many relationships as I have, it’s hard not to. I mean, I’m kind of the common factor.”

      She offered him a self-aware half smile.

      He needed something to do with his hands, something to distract him from how vulnerable and sexy and appealing she looked, standing there wearing his T-shirt, apologizing for having had sex with him last night.

      “You want a coffee?”

      “No, thanks.”

      She sat at the table while he remained standing. He poured himself a coffee and added milk. She reached for the sugar bowl and began fiddling with it, twisting it around and around on the table. When she spoke, he saw there was color in her cheeks.

      “There’s something else I wanted you to know, too,” she said in a rush. “I’m on the pill. And I always use condoms, so you don’t need to worry about anything. Just in case you were worried, I mean.”

      He stared at her. Protection had been about the furthest thing from his mind last night. Score another point for Team Stupid.

      “Same goes,” he said, his voice coming out a little gruff. “I’m always careful.”

      She nodded, twisting the sugar bowl around a few more times. “Good. That’s that settled. Now we never have to talk about it again.” She smiled to show she was joking, then stood. “I’d better get dressed, I guess.”

      He watched her walk away, noting the straight column of her spine, the elegant arch of her neck, the grace of her movements.

      The bathroom door closed between them and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Then he put down his coffee cup, braced his hands on the table in front of him and let his head drop.

      He swore under his breath in French and English. For good measure, he threw in a couple of Spanish curses he’d picked up over the years.

      He was an idiot, ten times over. All the bullshit he’d fed himself about only being physically attracted to Maddy. All the justifications for his need for her, his desire to protect her and make her happy and ease her pain.

      He loved her. Had probably never stopped loving her.

      And she only saw him as a friend. Same old, same old.

      Shit.

      IT’S GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT.

      Her eyes felt gritty, and her head ached, but it was going to be all right. Max had let her off the hook. Or maybe he’d let them both off the hook. Whatever. They’d survived the morning after, their friendship intact.

      She wasn’t stupid—she knew it would be weird between them for a day or two. But they’d get over it. If it killed her, they’d get over it. She’d made a stupid, impulsive, indulgent mistake, and she was determined to put things back the way they should be.

      She brushed her hair and dressed in the slim-fit jeans and grass-green turtleneck sweater she’d bought the previous day. She brushed her teeth, took one last look at her pale reflection, then reached for the door.

      “Max, you’ve officially ruined me. I can’t stop thinking about bread,” she said.

      She stopped in her tracks. Max had a visitor. She was tall and slim with wavy shoulder-length auburn hair and very fair skin, and she was standing in the kitchen having coffee with Max. Maddy guessed she was about twenty-two, maybe a little younger. Her gaze dropped to the other woman’s feet, noting the distinctive, giveaway turnout of her toes.

      A dancer. Maddy’s stomach dipped. She could think of only one reason why another dancer would be standing in Max’s kitchen.

      “Maddy, come and meet Yvette. She’s a friend of Gabriella’s. She’s agreed to model for me,” Max said.

      For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Max had replaced her. And not in the last ten minutes, either—he wouldn’t have been able to conjure another dancer out of thin air just like that. While she’d been fretting and agonizing over what last night meant to their friendship, Max had been quietly, coolly working to replace her.

      The other woman was wide-eyed as she stared at Maddy.

      “Ms. Green, I am very excited to be meeting you. I could not believe it when Max said you were staying with him. I saw you dance in Berlin two years ago. Your Juliet was so wonderful…I’m sorry, I do not have