Max had gone to bed in lots of different places. Suites in the world’s most exclusive hotels. Yachts—though not the infamous one. Even, once, a hammock under the stars on Ibiza. But never had he felt the bone-deep contentment this place inspired. The windows were open, and the steady chanting of crickets outside was melding with the reassuring tick-tocking of a grandfather clock in the otherwise silent house. His body was pleasantly spent from the swimming and the ridiculous Dirty Dancing lifts, and the sheets were crisp and cool in the warm night. Dani was tucked into a guest bedroom down the hall that she’d tried and failed to make him take. Knowing she was near was strangely comforting.

He didn’t want to sleep now, as tired as he was. He wanted to lie here all night, letting himself be eased, allowing the pure pleasure of being here diffuse through his veins.

Chapter Ten

Max was adorable when he was asleep. He looked younger when his expressive face was at rest, when he was taking a break from dipping into his endless arsenal of wit. He looked innocent, almost, which Dani knew, objectively, was the last word anyone could use to describe Maximillian von Hansburg, the (Not So) Depraved Duke.

She hated to wake him . . . but not really. “Max,” she whispered, turning on her phone flashlight but taking care not to shine it in his face. She got her face right close to his. “Max.”

His eyes opened, and he let loose a slow, lethal smile. She’d been prepared for him to be confused about where he was waking up, or to be annoyed that it was so early, or to be startled such that he made a ruckus and ruined their escape. But he just looked at her like it was normal to wake up with her face a few inches from his. Like he was happy about it.

She placed a finger to her lips and used her other hand to beckon him. He sat up and pulled on his T-shirt—he had been sleeping shirtless. Max was not a big, beefy guy, but he was well proportioned, his long, lean muscles complementing his smooth persona. He looked like he spent a lot of time swimming in his stupid freezing Alpine lake. She felt something stirring in her. Why couldn’t she feel like this with one of her Tinder dudes? Why couldn’t she summon a simple, uncomplicated lust that was strong enough to overcome her fears with someone like HarlemHipster?

She grabbed her mom’s keys and, once they were safely out in the dark driveway, whispered, “Good morning.”

“Are we sneaking out like teenagers so we don’t wake your parents?”