Maxwell knew he needed a way to correct his error. His walls had been broken almost completely. He needed to build it back if he would avoid the risk of being a rebellious brother. Celine might be all he wanted in a woman, but he still needed to set the boundaries.

"I mean…your own juice," he stuttered. "You spilled some of mine."

Celine eyed him and giggled. "Of course, I know that. Or were you thinking of a different kind of juice?"

Maxwell pushed the thought away as fast he could. Celine had been referring to the juice that would come from the door in between her legs. He knew...