by Liz Fox
Penny is the one who brings the topic back to me with a question. “What’s going on with you and Max?” She’s like a hound with a scent when it comes to fixing other people’s problems.
At the mention of Max, Lily does an overly dramatic double-take in my direction, her brown eyes wide with interest. She promptly sets her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hands in a classic ready-for-the-scoop pose.
Paige dances in her seat, the alcohol clearly not stymying her curiosity. “Yes. It’s time, girl. Inquiring minds need to know.”
I signal the server for another drink, knowing I’m going to need another margarita before too long. In between bites of tacos, I summarize the last week, starting with Liam asking me to help his friend, cleaning toilets, and working in the office with Max.
I’ve just started recapping his odd request for the community library when I notice Lily making a peculiar face. She’s nodding with a knowing expression, as if his behavior makes perfect sense.
“And then I gave him my thoughts on the library, like he asked. It was all very odd.”
“After you finished in the library, did he do something else? Like go to the post office?” Lily asks.
“Yes, he did. How did you know?”
“It’s something the Hawthornes have done for generations.” She dips a chip in salsa and takes a bite, driving my need to know up the wall with her precisely timed pauses. “This is top secret stuff. You can’t tell anyone, okay?”
Everyone nods, dying to know. There’s nothing like juicy gossip about one of the wealthiest families in the country.
“Once a month, the Hawthorne family identifies a local non-profit in the area. They determine if the organization is making a positive difference in the community. If so, they send them a sizable donation.”
“That’s amazing,” Paige exclaims.
My own eyes widen in surprise. I can’t believe I was so wrong. But wait. “Why all the subterfuge if they’re doing something good?”
Lily waves her hand as if it’s obvious. “If everyone knew they did it, all kinds of people would be knocking at their door non-stop. They’re not trying to make a big deal about it. They just want to do what’s right with the money they have.
“That’s why he couldn’t interview the library director himself. He’s such a public figure, somebody would have recognized him.”
Penny directs her comment to me. “He probably didn’t give you the details because it’s only been a week since you started.”
“Even with a signed NDA, this is big news. And once it got out, you couldn’t put it back in the bag,” Paige chimes in.
Wow. I never realized.
Everyone calls Max an ass, including myself. But this new information has me reviewing and rethinking all our encounters. I’m not quite ready to draw any new conclusions, but it’s something I’ll need to think about, especially considering the epic kiss we shared last night.
Like she can see into my thoughts, Penny leans forward and asks, “Anything else to share, chica?”
“Um, er. No,” I stutter. With these new revelations, I need some time to process on my own. Usually, I do my best thinking with an animal in my lap. The other women smile knowingly, but let my lame attempt at an answer slide.
Speaking of animals, I need to check on the kittens hiding in Max’s library. It’s time for me to go. My fur babies have been alone for a few hours, and I need to refresh their food and water before going to bed.
We signal for the check and Lily pays. “In honor of new friends.” Unexpectedly, she walks me to my car. “I’m so glad I met you. When I first met Max, I had no idea what kind of woman could stand his uppity attitude.” She pauses, looking over my shoulder as if gathering her thoughts.
“Since then, I’ve gotten to know him better. I know it’s cliche, but his hard exterior is a defense mechanism. He uses it to protect himself from people who only want to use him, which is basically everyone he interacts with on a daily basis. He’s still an ass. That’s undeniable.” She laughs softly under her breath, and then looks at me with direct, dark eyes. “But he’s not only an ass. Remember that, if you can.”
Thoughts race through my mind during the twenty minute drive home. Home. Funny, that I’m starting to call his estate “home.” When did that happen? Was it when I made myself comfortable drinking his scotch and playing with the kittens in his library? Or maybe it was during the week when we worked out of his home office, eating together at lunch. Or maybe it was that first day, when I took off my shirt and replaced it with one of his.
I park my car and enter the house, ready to set my endless thoughts aside and spend some quiet time with the kittens. As I approach the library, I notice a light shining from beneath the doors.
Shit. Someone found the kittens. It has to be Max. Paige was the only other person who knew I kept them in the library and she was out drinking margaritas with me.
My heart speeds up and my breath quickens. Max might not be as heartless as I thought, but he still expects people to constantly capitulate to his smallest desires. And here I am, hiding a litter of kittens in his brand new, unfinished library. With his temper, I won’t be surprised if he fires me. And I would deserve it. Secret kittens were not in the job description.
With trepidation, I hold my breath and open the doors to the library, hardening my heart to whatever I might find. I freeze in the doorway, stunned into stillness. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the scene in front of me. My breath catches and my heart expands.
Maximillian Hawthorne the Third lays on the floor of the library, asleep on a rug with three kittens cuddled around him, also sleeping. Somehow, he discovered the kittens. Instead of throwing them out, he brought a sheepskin rug and what looks like a throw pillow into the library. Then he let the kittens out of the cage and fell asleep on his back, decorated with napping kittens.
My eyes fill with tears, and I press my hand to my heart. I’m overwhelmed by the emotions running through me. The animals I love with the man I’m coming to care for, in one place.
I need to get a picture. Later, I’m going to need evidence that this actually happened, because right now it feels like a dream.
As quiet as a mouse, I open the picture app on my phone making sure it’s in silent mode. Tiptoeing into a better position, I get him in the frame. It’s difficult. I keep getting distracted by the peaceful look on his face and his muscular physique.
The flash goes off as I take the first photo. Shoot. Cali, the kitten curled up on his chest, wakes up and blinks at me with big green eyes. I put my finger to my lips, hoping the signal for silence has some kind of universal understanding across species. I’ll never know because Max—still sleeping—instinctively brings his hand up to pet her, murmuring indecipherable endearments until she goes back to sleep.
I turn off the flash on my phone, hoping the lamp provides enough illumination for a few more pictures. The black kitten is curled up on the pillow by his neck. Eva is stretched out on his stomach, using his forearm as a pillow. I take a few more photos before tiptoeing out of the library and closing the door. A sigh escapes me as all the confused ideas in my mind come together to form one clear thought.
I’m in trouble.
Chapter 9
Max
“I learned something last night,” I announce after watching Sloane make some coffee the next morning in her silk pajama shorts and thin camisole that I guess is supposed to pass as a shirt. She obviously didn’t hear me enter the kitchen because she jumps at the sound of my voice and crosses her arms over her chest in a vain attempt to hide her beautiful breasts.
“I’m sorry about the kittens. Penny ran out of space—” Her voice cuts off as I prowl towards her.
I woke up in the middle of the night, my cock hard as a rock after a lascivious dream about the woman standing in front of me. It didn’t take long for me to return the kittens to the cage and go to bed.
It did, however, take a long time for
me to fall back asleep. I didn’t manage it until I took the problem in hand, temporarily relieving some of the pressure.
“You are unique,” I continue, stalking around the kitchen island separating us, wearing only my pajama pants. “You don’t do things for the glory, the status, or the money. You do them because you care. You care for others. You care for the animals. You care for your family and friends.” I step closer, crowding her as she backs into the wall next to the refrigerator. “I’m beginning to suspect you might also care for me.
“Do you, Sloane?” I press my hand to the refrigerator, trapping her. “Do you care for me?”
“Well, of course I do. I care for—”
I cut her off. I’ve heard enough. She might want to qualify her statement, but the truth is shining from her deep blue eyes. She isn’t just here for the job. It would take more than a personal assistant job to make her wander into my kitchen in her pajamas. She isn’t even just here for the kittens, although I’m sure they’re a factor.
She cares for me. Not my money. Not my name. Me. I’m just not sure how much.
“Yes, you do.” I grasp her stubborn chin in my hand, running my thumb over her bottom lip. She blinks her ridiculously long lashes, a question in her eyes.
I’m more than ready to answer. I’m ready to claim this woman. Her delicious curves. The sassy looks she gives me. Her tempting mouth. Everything. Is. Mine.
“You’re mine. The kittens are mine. Every part of you is mine except what I choose to share.”
She shakes her head in denial, and that’s when the simmering coals inside me transform into an uncontrollable wildfire. I slam my mouth onto hers, licking, biting, and claiming her lush lips.
Her fingers dive into my hair, holding me close. Every muscle in my body tenses as she moans in pleasure.
I rip my mouth away, needing to know that she wants this as much as I do.
“Admit it.” I grip her hips and grind against her, bracing us both against the wall. “Admit you want me.”
I wait barely a second for her response before I’m devouring her mouth again. I need to get deeper. I need to own the taste of her. I’m addicted. She tastes better than the finest scotch, something I could savor every day—morning and night.
Her tongue sneaks into my mouth, rubbing against my own. Her responsiveness only makes me want her more.
I pull away and look at her damp, swollen lips. They’re full and red, and they’d be amazing wrapped around my cock.
“Do you want me, Sloane?”
She squirms like she’s trying to get away. Instead, her breasts rub against my bare chest, the camisole a thin protection against the heat of my skin.
I continue the slow grind, making sure the full length of my arousal presses against her sensitive nub. My lips follow the curve of her jaw, down her neck, glorying in the silky skin under my tongue.
Her erotic gasps are sweet music to my ears, but they aren’t enough.
“Tell me, Sloane.” I pause the motion of my hips, keeping my rock hard cock away from her warmth.
Her hips swivel erratically, desperately searching for more friction. Still, I wait.
I feel her capitulation before she speaks. “Yes, damn it. I want you.”
That’s my girl. She deserves a reward. I lift her leg and press my cock against the thin fabric of her shorts. Harder, increasing in speed, getting drunk on the sound of her whimpering “yes” in my ear.
Her hands grasp my shoulders hard enough to leave imprints of her nails in my skin. Her body shudders in my arms, tension building until she reaches her peak. She feels like an angel, sweet and fresh. And I’m the sinner who wants to keep her hot, wet, and coming on my cock.
Her head falls onto my shoulder, and her body goes limp in my arms. But I’m not done. Not even close. The thought drifts through my mind that I might never be done with the woman in my arms.
“Now, it’s my turn.” I keep her pressed tightly to me, marveling at the dampness and heat seeping through the two thin layers of fabric.
“Wrap your legs around me, angel.” I grab both of her thick thighs and lift, waiting until I feel her flex her legs around my waist. “Goddamn, you feel good. Your sweet, hot pussy rubbing against my cock.” I can’t help thrusting upward a few times. It takes all of my willpower to stop. “Angel. Fuck. Hold on.”
I carry her down the hallway into the office on the main floor. The house doesn’t have much furniture, and this room is the closest one with a rug and a condom. Thank god. If I tried to carry her to my bedroom, I’d end up taking her on the stairs.
Inside the room, I set her down on her feet. “Lay down on the rug,” I demand. I get a condom from the desk before I fall on her like a slavering beast.
She hesitates, pouring fuel on the fire inside me. With the beginnings of an idea, I grab the scissors from the desk as well.
“Are you scared of me, angel?”
Sloane shakes her head.
“Do you trust me?”
Her breath quickens, nipples tightening beneath her silky camisole as she gives me a tiny nod.
“Are you going to let me take care of you?”
She licks her lips. Responding with a breathy, “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Fiery satisfaction blazes through me. Fuck, I’m going to own her body. Ruin it for anyone else. That is, if I don’t explode with unfulfilled desire first. “Now, lay down on the rug.”
Her body shivers, limbs barely supporting her as she lays down in front of me. She looks like a fucking wet dream in her silky pajamas, with her long, black hair spread across the rug. The morning sun shines on her through the window, adding a golden glow to her skin.
My cock throbs at the sight.
“You’re so damn gorgeous, angel.” Her eyes widen as she sees the strength of my desire for her tenting my pajamas. Unwilling to wait any longer, I kneel beside her on the rug.
“If you want me to stop, tell me. Otherwise, don’t move.” My fingers trace the skin along her inner arm while I wait for her answer.
She swallows, a wealth of desire and a hint of nerves in her voice as she says, “Yes, sir.”
I bring the scissors to the bottom of her camisole, cutting through inches of silk. I make sure the cool steel of the scissors slides along her skin with every snip as I cut through the length of the fabric. Once I’ve finished, I set the scissors to the side.
“Do you like that, angel?” I ask, parting the halves of silk so her chest is completely exposed. I barely register her nod, too overwhelmed with the bounty in front of me. Full breasts, creamy skin, pink pebbled tips. And from this point going forward, they’re all mine.
“Do you want me?” My voice is so raspy with need, I’m surprised she understands me. She responds with a nod.
Rewarding her, I give my full and enthusiastic attention to her glorious breasts, worshipping them with my mouth and hands. Learning what makes her moan and what makes her squeal with every bite, pinch, and flick.
“Please, Max.”
I pause in my assault, glancing up to see pure need on her face. “Please what, angel?”
“Touch me.”
I slide one hand between her legs over her pajama bottoms. My fingers find her moist heat while my palm presses against her mound offering friction to her swollen clit. Giving a moan of relief, Sloane throws her head back, tilting her hips until my fingers press against the silk, forcing it into her hidden depths.
Any semblance of control disappears at the feel of her pulsing around my fingers. Consuming heat takes over, vicious in its need.
I rip off her pajama bottoms, throwing my head back as her soft hand folds around my throbbing cock. It’s not enough. I need to be inside her. To feel her heat. Leave my mark on her body. Ride her so hard she always remembers who she belongs to.
Pushing my pants down, I tear at the foil wrapper. A second later, I’m poised between her legs, hovering over her, pressing my aching tip into her soft folds.
“Fuck, angel.
You’re so tight.”
She moans as I press forward another inch. “It’s not me. It’s you.”
“Are you saying I’m too big?” I chuckle darkly, shifting in and out until she begins to relax around me. “That’s unacceptable.”
“I can’t. It’s too much.”
“It’s not too much until I say it’s too much. You can handle it. You’re so strong. So fiercely beautiful. I’ve never met anyone as strong as you.” I thrust my cock inside her, treasuring the way her body trembles as she accepts my full length.
“You’re the only one who dares to challenge me.” I bite her earlobe while pumping wildly into her heated flesh.
“You disobey me.” I leave a bite mark where her neck meets her shoulder. “You wore my shirt that first day, even when I told you to stay out of my things.”
She mumbles something that might be an affirmation.
“Did you know that when I got home, I wrapped that shirt around my thick cock and came harder than ever before?”
She shakes her head, still gripping my wrists to keep from sliding across the rug at the strength of my thrusts.
“It was my shirt, but it was covered in your scent. Now, you will be covered with me.” I lean down, claiming her lips as my own.
“You’re mine,” I hiss, unable to temper the primal instinct that demands that I mark her.
“Tell me who you belong to.” I take everything she’s offering me, but it’s not enough. I take it and demand more.
“Tell me!” I drill harder into her, punishing her, punishing myself. Thrashing and thrusting until we’re both delirious with fiery pleasure. Powerless to stop until she submits to me.
“Yes! Yes, I’m yours,” she cries out.
A roar of satisfaction builds in my throat. Both our bodies drenched in sweat, mindless, breathless. Her hands clasp my ass—pulling me closer or pushing me away. I don’t think either of us knows which.
Her walls clamp around my cock, her orgasm triggering my own violent release—pumping into her, filling her up, staking my claim.