Chapter 6
6
I package up the files, write a professional summary, and send that all off to Diana. She won’t see it for a few more hours. She’s adamant that she’s not to be disturbed and certainly not to be expected to read email before nine. Then I send an equally professional and very brief notice to the HR department informing them of my resignation. This is really my insurance in case Diana tries to tell them that she fired me for something horrible and I don’t deserve my last paycheck.
The email informing Diana that I won’t be coming back takes longer to compose. I’m angry and hurt and yet she would see any of that as a sign of weakness. In the end I decide leaving her wondering will cause her more pain than anything else. That will have to suffice as my revenge.
I send that email too. Max appears in the doorway, his scruffy chin catching my attention. I frown. “We need to fix that. Whether you’re growing it out or not, it’s uneven.”
His eyes widen in surprise, and then a slow twitch of his lips precedes his next words. “Careful, Jenna. That sounded both possessive and domestic. Do you need help with your email?”
I shake my head. “No, already sent.”
He growls, “Show me.”
It’s not an invitation. With a sigh, I bring up the email from my sent folder. Max reads over my shoulder. “You should have been more assertive.”
“No. This will put her on the defensive, wondering.”
“I told you I wanted to see it before you sent it.” He almost sounds accusing.
I shrug. “And I’m a grownup and this is my decision to make. Not yours.”
His hands land heavy on my shoulders. He hmphhs in irritation. “And you don’t think you win any arguments? Come and eat and then you can make your insubordination up to me.”
I risk a peek up at his face as he practically lifts me out of the chair. Good, he’s not angry with me. He’s impatient and possibly a little anxious, though.
Breakfast is pancakes. With real maple syrup. I savor the nutty flavors while the sugar hits my bloodstream like a drug. After all the stress and the still unanswered questions, I welcome the rush. I’ll probably crash hard in a few hours, I acknowledge to myself. But right now, I don’t care. I stuff another syrup-soaked pancake quarter into my greedy mouth.
When we’re both done eating, I snag Max’s plate and mine off the table, set them on the counter, and then grab his hand. “We’re fixing that chin,” I announce, pulling him behind me.
I think Max is too surprised to argue. There’s a small unused bench in the corner of the bathroom. I tug it over by the sink and then point. “Sit.”
“Why?” He sounds almost amused.
“Because I don’t want to hurt you, and it’s considerably less likely if I can see what I’m doing,” I point out acerbically.
Thank God he doesn’t use a straight razor. It takes me a while to find the normal kind, though. I’m not sure what he used to hack off his beard in the middle of the night. But whatever it was is long gone. And I’m not admitting to a soul that I’ve never shaved a man in my life before.
I have watched TV so how hard can it be?
Torture, I quickly realize after soaking his jaw with a hot, damp towel. Nobody tells you how intimate this act is. I have to stand between Max’s spread thighs to get close enough and that means he has me enveloped, since he seems determined to keep his hands on my waist. The more times I swivel to rinse the razor in the nearby sink, the more his fingers begin to wander. I suck in my breath. “Stop that! I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“Me too,” Max mutters. His fingers are spread wide across my ribs.
My chuckle is strained. “But you’re the one that could lose an ear. I’m almost done.”
“I’ll be the laughingstock of the general store.”
I stand back to admire my handiwork. “Is that what’s bothering you? That a woman took over as barber?”
“No, baby. You don’t understand. It’s a regional tradition to grow out a beard for the cold weather. Anyone who doesn’t is a city pansy.”
My eye roll makes his lips twitch. Max moves me back slightly so he can stand. Checking his face in the mirror, he turns to me. “Now I want my reward.”
Blinking, I stare up at him. Bemused all over again that I’m here at all with a world-famous author whose ability with words is the envy of so many. If only they knew…
“What? Like a cupcake?”
He shakes his head, smiling. “No, but just as sweet, I’m sure. Drop the jeans, Jenna. And come here.” He sits back down on the bench and pats his lap. I’m confused. He didn’t get undressed, so he wants… what exactly?
“Now, Jenna,” he growls.
My mouth goes dry. There’s something in his eyes that lures me in. Makes me want to find out what he has in store. Hesitantly, my fingers go to the top button of my jeans. Fumbling, I finally manage to slip it through the hole and lower the zipper. Then I just stand there like an idiot, unable to continue further.
I’m impaled by the fierceness in Max’s gaze. I can’t look away, I can’t move. I’m frozen like a rabbit being perused by a curious wolf. Except I don’t really want to escape. But…
Max’s expression softens. Abruptly, he stands and picks me up in his arms. Cradling me against his chest, we move out of the bathroom and down the hall.
How did I miss this room? Max carries me into a small, cozy room with a big armchair and an even bigger TV mounted to the wall over a small fireplace. He settles into the armchair, taking me with him. I swivel my head to take in more of the room. I can tell he spends a lot of time in here.
“Is this where you disappear to all day?” I ask curiously.
Max shakes his head. “No, this space is for the deep winter, when it’s dark and the snow is blowing against the side of the house. Even hermits need a few creature comforts then.”
I turn my attention back to his face. “You aren’t a hermit. Maybe a self-imposed one which I wish you would explain, but not by nature.”
He frowns down at me. “You are a bundle of contradictions, little Jenna. I forget when you’re so decisive that you’re still so much an innocent.”
I growl at that one. I’m tired of hearing it. “I’m not. I’m not a virgin and I’ve lived in New York for five years.”
Max arches one elegant brow. “What does that have to do with anything? When was the last time you took a lover, Jenna?” His question is neutrally delivered. He’s not seething with jealousy. He sounds more like a reporter who scents a good story. And he’s not moving the conversation along when I don’t answer. Max can wait like no other. Except maybe that wolf I was mentioning earlier.
“College,” I finally mumble, just to get this over with.
Max snorts. “Thought so. Innocent.”
I glare at him until he pulls me close against his chest. “You need to understand, Jenna, that I am not a gentle man. That’s even more true in the bedroom.”
“What do you mean?” Something about the way his muscles tense beneath my thighs, the starkness of his words, has me more intrigued than scared.
Max sighs before answering, “I need to be in complete control. I haven’t been with a woman since I moved here, fifteen years ago. It’s too difficult to keep things casual in a small town. That and the fact that I’ve never had such strong feelings as I have for you — makes me want to mark every inch of you.”
My pussy floods, but my brain intervenes before I do something rash. “You only want something casual?” I quaver, bracing myself to hear the affirmative.
Instead, Max growls. “No! Would I have brought your cat up here if I intended to send you back? I only meant that my previous relationships were casual, and most of those women thought I was too bossy and domineering. My need for you, baby… You’re likely to hate me before I even get a taste of your sweet pussy.”
Hate is nowhere on my agenda. My heart swells with the enticement he’s offering. “Can you spell it out for me, Max? What does marking mean? How do you want to dominate me?”
His hand slides over the curve of my butt. “I don’t want to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. I need to kiss you all over, Jenna. Lick and suck until every bit of you has my scent.”
That doesn’t sound so bad. “So what’s stopping you?”
“You couldn’t even remove your jeans, Jenna,” he reminds me dryly.
I push back on his chest so I can look up and into his eyes. “So you only want to take over when it’s convenient?”
Max stills, and then a thoughtful expression transforms his face. “You mean you don’t mind if I…”
I shake my head. “I trust you, Max. If you say you don’t want to hurt me, I believe you. I’m not very good at — being proactive — I guess you’d say. I’d much rather you take over, so I don’t have to think about it. If that’s really what you want, that is. I’m not volunteering to have my heart broken.”
Max chuckles and at first I’m afraid he’s laughing at me, but then he cuddles me close once again. “Maybe I’m a tiny bit afraid that you’re simply too perfect, little Jenna. Right now, I want to watch you cum while I hold you. Are you ready for that?”
I still, trying to figure out how he plans to accomplish that when I’m still fully dressed but then I shrug. I did just tell him I was good with him taking over…