Page 42 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
"As I said, not negotiable." He cuts me off with a finality that leaves no room for argument. His jaw clenches, a muscle working beneath the skin. "I have connections. People who owe me favors. Forensic experts…" His eyes never leave mine, unwavering. "What he did was theft, plain and simple. And I protect what's mine."
The possessiveness in his voice sends a rush of heat through me. He hasn't even touched me, but the intensity of his gaze makes me feel claimed.
"As for the rest..." His voice softens, though the undercurrent of desire remains. "I don't do disposable." His fingers trace a path from my cheek to my collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "What I want is to take my time. Days, weeks... however long it takes to discover exactly what makes you come apart in my hands."
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, "And trust me, what I described earlier? That's just the beginning of what I want to do with you."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice catches me off guard. We've known each other for mere days, yet he speaks as if my vindication is already his personal mission.
"Second, as for us," he continues, his voice softening though the intensity remains, "we have two options. Tonight, we can discover if what's between us is worth exploring further, but ifyou need time, we’ll take a step back and breathe." His thumb traces my lower lip, a touch so light it's almost reverent.
"You're okay if I need time?" The question feels important, a test of his earlier claims.
"Yes." His certainty is unwavering. "I meant what I said earlier—I'm a patient man, especially when it comes to something I want." The look he gives me is possessive, claiming. "And I want you. Not just for tonight. If that means we wait, then that's what we'll do."
"Just like that?" The question comes out smaller than I intended, contradicting my supposed need for time.
"Just like that." His lips curve into that dangerous half-smile. "If that's what you need, that's what we'll do. But let me be very clear—when you finally say yes to me, I'll make damn sure you'll be seeing stars."
The promise in his words sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs. This is madness—opening myself to a man who represents everything I fled, who admits to desires darker than I've known, who speaks of patience yet radiates barely controlled hunger.
"And if I say yes tonight?" I sway slightly toward him.
He shifts closer to adjust the blanket over my knees, knuckles grazing the bare skin above my sock. Goosebumps race up my leg. His eyes flick down, linger a moment longer than they should, then travel back up to meet mine.
The spark in his gaze—undeniable, almost predatory—makes my breath hitch. He doesn't hide how he's looking at me, how he might devour me if I'd only let him.
He settles in beside me, his thigh pressed flush with mine at last. The thin barrier of denim and wool can't hide how hot his skin feels against me, how easily I could move into his lap, let him take whatever he wants.
My mind whirls, racing ahead—if I ask, will he show me how dark he can go, how far he’ll let me fall? Do I dare?
A part of me says that if this is a fantasy, a storm-trapped dream, I want to taste every inch of it while it lasts. And if Max wants to take control, to show me things about myself I've only ever imagined in secret, maybe—just maybe—I'll finally let myself say yes.
His hand slides up my arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When it reaches my neck, his thumb traces my jawline with deliberate pressure.
"Lily." My name on his lips sounds like a claim, a promise. "Tell me what you want."
The command in his voice makes my pulse jump. His eyes track the movement in my throat, a predator noting weakness.
"I want..." The words stick. How do I tell him I want everything he described earlier—his mouth, his hands, his control—without sounding desperate?
He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Say it."
"You." The confession breaks free. "I want you."
Chapter 15
Max’ssharp inhale is my only warning before his mouth claims mine. This isn't the hesitant, testing kiss from earlier—this is possession, pure and demanding. His hand fists in my hair, angling my head exactly how he wants it, while his other arm bands around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
I gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his groan. His tongue traces the seam of my lips before delving deeper, tasting, exploring. The controlled strength in his movements—holding me exactly where he wants me, taking what he desires while somehow giving more than I knew to ask for—makes me melt against him.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, a gentle bite that sends sparks racing down my spine. When he pulls back, just enough for me to catch my breath, his eyes are dark with promise.
"More?"
"Yes, please," I whisper, already leaning toward him again.
This time, he slows, his mouth moving with deliberate purpose. His tongue strokes against mine, teaching me his rhythm. One hand slides beneath my sweater to span my lower back, his fingers splaying wide against bare skin. The heat of his palm brands me, anchoring me to this moment, to him.
