Chapter 10 #2
She could read, but this was a bunch of fancy-sounding mumbo jumbo. “Whereas…the holder…hitherto and forever…” She glanced back up at him. “Max, what is this? And why is there a sketch of my shoe?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s a patent application, Ember.
It’ll be a while before we hear back, but I wanted to give you something, something meaningful.
You designed and made those shoes, and I just know they’re going to be a sensation.
If you’re willing to allow Oliphant Engraving to manufacture them, I’d like to offer you a place in the engraver’s studio upstairs.
I assume it’ll be a small operation at first, making custom orders—”
Suddenly, Max stopped speaking as he finally noticed how shocked she must look. He shook his head, then scrubbed a hand over his face as he sighed.
“Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself. I wanted to give you something to tell you—show you—that this is yours.
Even if you choose to have the shoes manufactured someplace else, or if you sell the idea entirely, they’re still yours.
They represent your future, and once they’re patented under your name, they’ll ensure your future. ”
Not quite sure what to think, Ember switched her gaze back to the paper in her hand. “A…patent?”
“The shoes are yours, Ember,” Max declared in a low, fervent tone. “No one can take that from you. No matter what you decide to do with your future, you can take that design patent to any factory owner, and if he’s smart, he’ll understand a fashion sensation when he sees it.”
“And you…?” In her hand, the patent application crunched as she tightened her grip. “You said you wanted Oliphant Engraving to produce them?” she whispered, hardly daring to hope.
When he stepped toward her, she started, her gaze jerking up to meet his. He hesitated—likely at her response—before glancing briefly at the gouge in the front of her apron, then back up. One corner of his lips curled upward wryly.
“Ember, I would be honored to arrange for you to create your art here. I’ll write up a contract and everything, if it will make you feel more comfortable. And everything will be strictly business.”
Strictly business wasn’t what she wanted. Not from Max.
“Is… Do you want us to be strictly business?” she whispered, not sure how else to phrase it.
“Hell no!” His breath burst out of him in a harsh huff of laughter, and he reached his hands up.
She thought he might be reaching for her at first, but instead, he dragged his hands across the curls on his head.
“No, I don’t want just a business partnership with you, Ember! I want—I want a real partnership!”
Her heart felt as though it was slamming against her ribcage. “A real partnership?”
Dare she hope he might actually…love her? Want a future with her?
“Yes!” Golden passion flared in his eyes, and the muscles in his jaw tightened. “Why shouldn’t I want a partnership with you?”
He still didn’t understand, did he? Her hands shook as she folded the paper and slipped it into the pocket of her apron. He’d given it to her, after all, and he was right; in many ways, it did represent her future.
But only if she couldn’t have her first choice of futures.
One more chance for him to back away, before she grabbed hold with both hands and never let go.
“Because I am a serving lass, Max,” she whispered to his lapels. “My stepmother might be a lady and put on all sorts of fancy airs, and maybe my sisters taught me what they could, but…” A deep breath. “But I am little more than a drudge. I have dreams, yes, but for now…I am just a serving lass.”
“And I’m a cowboy,” he snapped in return.
Before she could point out his new position, he was the one reaching for her, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her flush against him. And because she was the one who’d vowed to hold onto him, her hands closed around his lapels, and she surged up on her toes to meet his lips.
Their kiss tasted of hunger, and frustration, and anger—not at each other, but at the world—and need.
His lips weren’t gentle, but insistent, and when she welcomed him inside, he groaned against her lips.
His hands were pulling, pushing, heightening her desperation, and she moved her hands out of the way so she could press her breasts against his chest.
The omnipresent ache between her legs blossomed into a full-blown yearning, and she pressed her pelvis closer, moving her hips insistently against his hardness. Oh, she knew what that hardness meant, and as he gasped her name, she rejoiced, knowing he was as ready for her as she was for him.
“Ember…”
“Yes,” she groaned, her lips finding the corner of his mouth, then his jaw. “Yes, love?” Her hips pressed desperately against his hardness.
“Ember!”
It wasn’t until he set her away from him that she heard the amusement in his voice. Was he…laughing at her?
“What?” she snapped.
He blew out a breath and winced, breathing heavily and obviously affected by their kiss. “I’m not used to…”
When she raised a brow at him, not sure if she should be embarrassed, he waved a vague hand toward her pelvis. Apparently, she should be embarrassed—thanks to the way she’d reacted to him.
“I will not apologize,” she declared, lifting her chin in defiance. “Your kisses make me want…”
She trailed off, not certain if she should admit those things out loud. But to her surprise, he smiled ruefully.
“No, love, not—” Chuckling, he reached for her apron. “It’s this.” He pulled the thick gouge from the leather pocket. “I’m just not used to so much hardness grinding against me.”
Relief burst over Ember so quickly, she couldn’t help the surprised laughter which burst out of her. “I was wondering what I was feeling.”
“Oh, I think you had a pretty good idea of what you were feeling,” he quipped.
As he placed the gouge on the workbench to his left, he shifted his own pelvis forward again, and Ember groaned at the sensation of his hardness pressing against her core through the leather apron, and she reached for him again.
This kiss was slower, deeper. They explored one another, not just with their lips and tongues, but with their hands and hearts as well.
Max’s fingers were magical, Ember decided. They were everywhere, and everywhere he touched left a spark of fire behind. An ember of desire.
The thought had her smiling against his mouth, and she felt his lips curl in response.
Then his lips were moving across her jaw, down her throat. She tipped her head back to give him better access, while simultaneously grinding her pelvis against his, chasing that delicious pressure which had built between her legs.
She needed this.
She needed him.
When Max’s mouth reached her blouse, she was the one to yank the material to the side, and she felt him smile against her skin as his kisses trailed hot fire across the top of her breasts. Thank the saints she’d neglected a corset today!
“Max!” she gasped as his tongue found her nipple. “Oh, God, yes.”
The pulsing in her core was more than she could stand, and he seemed to understand.
With a sudden shift, his hand was between her legs, and he was nudging her back against the worktable.
She wanted to climb atop it so she could straddle his waist, but each movement sent indescribable little flickers of pleasure through her body, and she knew she was ready to come apart.
Max continued to worship her nipples, one hand splayed across her back to hold her in place while the other pressed against her core. The heel of his hand ground against her sensitive pearl, providing all the pressure she needed, while his fingers pressed her petticoats into her wetness.
It was crude and wicked and exactly what Ember needed. When his teeth scraped against her nipple, she came with a mewling sort of gasp, grinding against his hand as pleasure burst over her in waves.
Max knew, of course. He gathered her close, holding her and whispering words of devotion against her hair as she rode out the pleasure.
“That’s it.” He kissed her temple. “That’s the way. Good girl.”
“I am not—” She sighed, relaxing against him. “I am not a horse, Max.”
She felt him grin. “No. But if you were a filly, I would say this was the moment you became mine.”
Was she? His?
Ember tipped her head back to meet his dark eyes, fully aware of the dirtiness of their surroundings, and not caring. “Am I?” she whispered. “Yours?”
“Always.” He dropped a kiss to her lips, and that felt like a promise.
So she turned in his arms, wrapped hers around his neck, and snuggled up against him. “Then make me yours, Max. For always.”
“I don’t think—”
“I do. I want you, all of you.” She wriggled against the hardness in his trousers, the sensation teasing her already sensitive core. “All of you.”
With a groan, he dropped his head forward. “Ember, we’re in a factory.”
“I do not care if you do not.”
The sound he made was somewhere between a growl and a laugh, then he was suddenly moving, scooping her up in his arms, her blouse flopping open between them.
When had that happened? Ember didn’t have time to consider it, because he was taking the stairs up to the offices two at a time, and she merely hung on as he barreled down the corridor.
Then he was using his hip to push open the door to his office, and gently setting her down in the center.
“Ember, are you certain—”
She cut him off by surging up to kiss him as her hands frantically stripped his jacket off his shoulders. “I have dreamed of this,” she confessed in a whisper as she helped him undress.
His moan of surrender was her only response, as his hands moved frantically, stripping off his suit as her fingers flew over her buttons.
When they came together again, both naked, it was glorious to feel his skin against hers.
“Ember,” he whispered, his voice harsh with need as his palms skimmed across her skin. “I want…”
“Yes.” It was all she needed to say, all either of them needed to say.