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My skin prickles, a treacherous heat stirring between my legs as I replay that delicious, gravelly voice, his tone low and commanding:
I want to spank that sweet little ass until it’s the same color as your hair.
I shift in my chair, pulling my collar from my neck. Jeez, it’s hot in here. So much for drinking this coffee. Part of me wanted to bend over his lap right then and there. Beg him to put his money where his mouth is. I’ve had to endure the adrenaline spikes every time Max is near me.
I could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical pressure on my skin, even when I was halfway across the room. It had been like that all night. Every time I turned to clear a table or adjust the tray on my hip, I’d catch a glimpse of Max. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle anymore. He’d lean back against his leather chair, a glass of scotch in hand, watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
He’s always watching, cataloging the room with those predatory, scrutinizing eyes. He owns a cybersecurity firm. I’m sure he treats everyone like a variable in an equation. But then again, I don’t blend in with the other girls. Maybe that’s why he stares. He’s simply trying to figure me out.
Yet nothing could’ve prepared me for those dirty words tumbling from his lips. Every word is usually so cool and controlled. After the shock wore off, I wanted to test him. See how far he’d go. Max is a man made of steel and encrypted files, but for a split second, I saw a glitch in his armor.
“I’m heading back to the club’s gym. Sebastian Lee is coming to train for a bit,” Holt says, breaking my trance. “Then I’ve got to catch a flight back to New York for my next shift.”
“Already?” I swallow hard. I’m champing at the bit to tell him. To share I’m actually using my training, assisting Max. But Holt would only interpret working with Max and his cybertechnology investigations as a dangerous venture. I’m way too energized about the work to let him ruin it with a lecture. I’ve been careful. I trust Max to keep the monsters at bay.
By the time we get back to the club and Holt says his goodbyes, my nerves are humming for a completely different reason. I’m proud. Not only did I venture out of my comfort zone, but I’m fairly certain I could do it again on my own. Well, sort of. That’s my next test. Baby steps.
I walk through the front entrance to the club and stop short. Max is standing in the hallway, a laptop tucked under his arm. My heart rate picks up speed. I only hope he can’t hear the frantic, rhythmic thumping from there. It’s my day off, but I’ve been secretly hoping he’d need me today.
“Cassidy,” his voice is a low vibration that coats my skin like a warm glow from the sun.
“Hey.” I almost reach up to tuck my hair behind my ear out of sheer nervousness until I recall the action in romance novels is considered flirtatious and immediately drop my arm by my side.
“I was hoping you’d be around,” he greets. His gaze sweeps over me. “The work you did on those data strings... it helped tremendously. Freed me up to focus on the bigger threads. You’ve got a real knack for this.”
A ridiculous surge of pride fills my chest. I beam, unable to hide it. “I’m so glad I could help.”
He gestures toward the private offices. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d love for you to work your magic on another case.”
We head into Gianni’s office. The moment the door clicks shut, my pulse spikes again. Max turns to me, his expression softening into something uncharacteristically sheepish.
“Before we get to work, I want to apologize for anything I might’ve said or done the other night. Too much scotch in a den of bad decisions doesn’t bode well for me.”
I feel a flush creep up my neck. “You were fine, sir. Really.”
His pupils dilate before he corrects me. “Please, call me Max when we’re working together. No formalities.” He sets the laptop on the desk and pulls up a series of encrypted files. “Please sit. Look at this.”
I slide into the chair, and he again leans over me. He’s standing right behind my shoulder, one hand on the back of my chair, the other pointing at the screen. He smells of expensive sandalwood, citrus, and something uniquely him. He’s intoxicating.
He’s so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his chest against my back. Embarrassed that I’ve missed whatever he was saying, I turn to apologize and realize he isn’t looking at the screen anymore.
He’s looking at me.
His eyes trace the thin, jagged scar along my jawline, and then, with agonizing slowness, they move to my lips. The air leaves my lungs.
Is he going to kiss me?
Then, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s back talking about code, number tracing, and IP addresses. His voice is direct, professional.
I try to focus, but I’m completely distracted by the arm porn happening right next to my face. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, exposing tanned skin and corded, veiny forearms. He simultaneously looks rugged and cerebral. I had no idea that was a thing, yet it’s a devastating combination. He seems completely unaffected, while I’m struggling to breathe.
After an hour of rhythmic typing, his phone buzzes. He glances at it and sighs. “Damn. I forgot I have a Zoom meeting with my team in twenty minutes.”
Closing the laptop, I respond, “That’s okay. I was going to go for a walk anyway.”
He gives me a strange smirk that I don’t quite understand.
Standing, I head for the door. As I reach for the handle, I turn to say goodbye. But he’s right there. Our eyes lock, and before I can think to move, he reaches up. His thumb, rough and warm, tracing the scar on my jaw.
