She turned to meet his gaze. “It has to be about more than sex for me, okay? I'm not like that, I … never mind,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, just take me back to the office.”
More than sex?
Maxwell couldn't see how she'd misunderstood, but it was obvious she had. Of course this was about more than sex, he thought. Why else would he have threatened to fire his best employee this morning?
Apparently, she didn't realize just how much more than sex he wanted – yet.
Switching on the ignition, he eased the car back onto the road.
After several long moments of silence, he said. “More than sex. Fair enough. I can understand that.”
Those were the last words he spoke to her during the drive.
Back at the office, he thanked her for lunch, and drove away.
Genevieve watched him go, knowing she had more or less burned her bridges where he was concerned.
He wouldn't be back.
Not Maxwell Brennan.
No, he had women falling at his feet all the time. Why would he ever want her?
She couldn't think of a single reason, other than sex, and though it pained her to admit it, she almost wished she'd have given in. Almost wished she'd ignored her own sense of morals, gone back to his place with him like he'd asked and let him love her like her body clamored for him to do.
Almost.
Chapter 4
Genevieve was still finding it hard to believe how wrong she'd been.
Eight weeks later, Maxwell was still showering her with his undivided attention … and with gorgeous bouquets of flowers, long, romantic phone calls filled with intimate promises, and plenty of wicked hot kisses.
Lots of kisses.
But he'd never tried to take more than that. Never tried to push her farther, faster, to give more than she willingly offered in all that time.
Not that he hadn't wanted to.
Many, many nights over the past eight weeks, Genevieve had watched him struggle with his control. For too many of those nights, he'd left her aching so badly she'd almost been moved to tears, and she knew he wanted her in his bed just as badly as she wanted to be in it.
Still, she had expected him to give up, to go away and leave her with a maelstrom of unfulfilled desire tearing at her insides ... and a broken heart to mend in silence.
At any moment during the past eight weeks, if she'd been asked, Genevieve would have sworn he would soon give up on her. That he wouldn't pursue her for long once he realized her insistence on 'no sex' would continue indefinitely … unless he decided to make a real commitment to the relationship.
A longer than 'long-term' one.
A forever one.
Today, it occurred to her she may have been wrong.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked.
It was late on a Saturday night, and they were lying together in a double-hammock outside on Maxwell's back deck, enjoying the last warm nights of summer.
She'd been hesitant at first to come to his house, remembering the first time he'd asked her to join him here, but Max had insisted he wanted her to be with him tonight for nothing more than dinner and maybe a walk by the lake after … and he'd promised he would take her home the minute she asked him to.
Still, being here, so close to Max and so close to giving in to the demands of her own body was infinitely, explosively dangerous to her good intentions.
More than once tonight she'd almost given in, almost been overwhelmed by her responses to Max's expert kisses and her own need for more, but somehow, so far, she'd managed to fight back her fear of giving in to her body's demands and stay with him.
Now, lying here in his arms, looking up at the stars while attempting to force herself to breathe evenly and not let on just how badly she wanted him to take her upstairs and love her most thoroughly, Genevieve was more than a little afraid she should have left hours ago.
Confused by her own distractions, she didn't quite understand his question. “Believe what?”
Max reached out, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “That I want you in my life, Genevieve, for a lot more than sex.”
His answer set her heart to pounding in her chest and her blood thrumming through her veins. “Oh, that.”
He smiled at her rather clumsy answer. “Yes, that. Well?”
She sat up, uneasy with the answer she would give, and unsure how he would react to it. But it was the truth.
“I believe you believe it – for now,” she said.
Her back was to him, so she couldn't see Max's reaction to her reply, but she could feel his body tense.
He got to his feet and pulled her up beside him, drawing her close. “You're right. I do. And I will keep on believing it. But how long will it take for you to believe it, Genevieve? How long will you expect me to prove myself to you?”
Genevieve looked into his eyes, so sure her next words would be the ones to finally make him give up on his pursuit of her she could already feel the pain of her heart breaking. “Forever, Maxwell. But I think that may be a little too long for you.”
She saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, although he quickly masked it.
“Is that what you think? That I'm not capable of forever? Of a long-term commitment?” He kissed her, a quick, playful kiss on the upturned tip of her nose that was at complete odds to the seriousness of their conversation. “You're wrong, you know. So wrong. But the only way I can prove that to you is if you are willing to prove it with me.”
He kissed her again, a real kiss this time.
Slow and sensual.
Hot. Intense.
Yearning.
There was absolutely nothing playful about this kiss at all.
“Stay with me, Genevieve,” he whispered against her lips. “Be with me. Now. Tonight. Forever.”
Genevieve wanted to. There was nothing she wanted more than to stay with him, in his arms, forever. She wanted, so very much, to believe him, to believe in him, to believe he really was capable of a forever kind of relationship.
But there were too many doubts in her head and she refused to give in to her heart.
She pushed away, out of his embrace. “I think you should take me home now, Max.”
He mumbled a curse, and she turned back to see him rake his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“Why, Genevieve? What is it you are afraid of?”
“You. Me. This.” She looked up at him, sure her eyes must be filled with all the uncertainty she was feeling at the moment. “I don't want to be hurt, Maxwell.”
He laughed then, a rough, blunt sound. “And you think I do?”
He pulled her back into his arms, pressing her close. “Nothing has changed, Genevieve. Other than knowing your name, not one thing is different for me than it was the first time we kissed – I know who you are, yes, but even without knowing, I wanted you – wanted you so badly my body shook with the intensity of need your stolen, innocent kiss aroused.”
She tried to look away, but he caught her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. “You feel it, Genevieve. I know you do, and I know you want me, too. But that isn't what scares you. What scares you is that you're afraid if we're together, if we make love, it'll go away and I won't want you anymore. Is that it?”
She glared at him, annoyed he'd cut to the heart of the matter so bluntly. “And that's wrong?”
Max shook his head. “No, it's not wrong, but walking away without ever knowing, without ever giving us a chance, without being sure … that could be. Are you really willing to risk it?”
A tear slid from her eye, and she dashed it away with her fingers. “I don't know, Maxwell. It would hurt … so much. More than you realize. I – ”
He put his fingers over her lips, silencing her.
“There's only one way to know, Genevieve, and it's up to you whether or not you're willing to find out. Let me know when you decide,” he said, and then he walked inside, leaving her alone in th
e darkness with her thoughts.
Chapter 5
It was a bit difficult making her way to the door in the dark, but she hadn't wanted to turn a light on.
Max was standing in the foyer, exactly where the two of them had stood that first night, the first time he'd kissed her, his form barely silhouetted by the light of the moon coming in through the narrow windows on either side of the door.
Genevieve wondered if he were reliving the moment, as she had done so many times in the past eight weeks.
“Maxwell?”
He turned and she went to him, laid her head against his chest, letting the strong sound of his heartbeat soothe her.
He slid his hands down her arms, along her sides, around her.
“Genevieve?”
His voice was quiet, a bit strained, but she could hear the question in it, knew she must decide.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a second, knowing what he was asking, but still not entirely sure of the decision she had made.
Finally, she lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I love you, Maxwell. I want forever … with you.”
His arms tightened around her, and his breath rushed out, as if he'd been holding it while waiting for her answer. “Thank you, Genevieve, for giving us a chance. I promise you won't be sorry,” he said.
And then he kissed her.
It was not a passionate kiss, but rather, a tender, reverent one.
Gentle, considerate.
Sweet.
Genevieve thought she might cry from the poignancy of it, but Max was too quick to allow that to happen.
He swiftly followed one kiss with another and another, each one more passionate, more intense, and finally so blistering hot Genevieve feared they both might burst into flame at any second.
* * *
The pleasure he was making her feel was sheer torture.
Genevieve hadn't been sure what to expect after her confession earlier, but the slow, sensuous trail of fire Maxwell was kissing down her body just now was more than she could take.
He'd swept her up into his arms and carried her upstairs, here, to his room. Genevieve had expected a rush, an explosion of uncontrolled passion, but not this … this careful stoking of her passion to a raging fever pitch, this agony of waiting!
No, she hadn't expected this at all. It was consuming.
He had forbidden her to touch him while he'd undressed her.
Slowly.
Reverently.
His eyes devoured every inch of her.
His hands caressed and teased, tortured and soothed.
The heat of his mouth explored her, tiny kisses, hot love bites, from her nape to her knees and back.
She burned.
She ached.
She wanted him – now.
Maxwell refused to be rushed, postponing her release as long as he possibly could.
He wanted her to lose control, to know how it was for him every time she touched him, every time they kissed.
He wouldn't let her touch him now.
He didn't think he could take it.
To feel her soft fingers on his skin just now … he groaned. Just thinking of her touch almost sent him over the edge.
“You're the only woman who has ever been able to make me want this intensely, Genevieve, make me feel this … this uncontrolled,” he whispered against the soft skin of her thigh.
Genevieve was shaking, her need was so intense.
Uncontrolled.
Yes. That's how she felt.
His mouth touched the curls between her thighs, and she cried out. If he kissed her there ….
He did, and she almost came undone, but he left her there, staggering on the precipice of reason, in danger of sliding over the edge into insanity. She gasped out his name, a ragged plea of need. “Max...?”
She could hear him undressing, and then he was in her arms, his body sliding over hers, pressing into her, claiming her for his own.
“I'm sorry, Genevieve,” he whispered. “I can't wait any longer.”
Wait?
It felt like an eternity had passed since they'd come upstairs already, and Genevieve thought she might truly go mad if even one more second passed without him inside her.
“Now, Max. Don't wait.”
He didn't, and she moaned with pleasure.
The feel of him inside her, so hot, stretching her, filling her, moving …
Genevieve tossed her head from side to side, wanting the sweet agony to end, praying the pulsing pleasure spreading through her would never stop.
The sound of their breathing amplified, and Genevieve could hear her own heartbeat.
Maxwell gritted his teeth, fighting his own need to go faster, to drive into her and find his own release. Instead, his movements slowed. He wanted to draw out the experience for her for as long as he dared.
But the pleasure was too intense, all-consuming, almost unbearable – and then the world suddenly seemed to explode, bursting into a myriad of light and mingled breathing, pulsing heartbeats and rhythm.
* * *
“And now forever starts. I hope you meant what you said, Max, because I'd really be disappointed to see you get carried away by the next big fling...” she said later.
Her words sounded somewhat flippant, but Maxwell knew she was using the tone to hide her uncertainty. He leaned back to see her better, and arched a brow in question.
“After what just happened, you're worried?” He laughed. “I already want you again.”
She burrowed her head against him. “But that's just sex, Max,” she whispered.
He raised himself up on an elbow and stared down at her. “Making love with you will never be 'just sex', Genevieve.”
She raised her hand to trace a finger across his forehead and down one cheek. She sighed. “It was amazing, wasn't it?”
He grunted in agreement. “Unbelievably amazing. Stunning. Incredible.”
She chuckled, dropping a quick kiss on his lips. “So I really shouldn't worry?”
Max shook his head. “No. You shouldn't. Forever started eight weeks ago for me, Genevieve. After that first wicked kiss, I knew my life had changed – forever – and there would be no going back.”
About the Author
Tiffany St.Claire - the “Queen of Romance in Minutes”
Better than chocolate, without the calories!
Strapped for time, but still want to “live”a little? We’re here for you. Whether you’re in need of a quick “pick me up” or on the lookout for a fast-paced, heart-pounding, breathtaking adventure, you’re in the right place. Sit down with and get lost in one of our romantic short stories today. One taste and you’ll fall in love, guaranteed. You’ll be glad you did!
Tiffany St.Claire is a mother and daughter writing team who weave tales of romance from the sweetly heart-wrenching to downright hilarious, warm and cuddly to scorchingly sensual, filled with wit, magic, and lots of love and laughter.
Grab yourself a “Tiffany” romance today and feed the crave – they’re scandalously delicious!
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
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