Page 52 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
But he’s right. He’s always right. Because what he wants isn’t just a night stolen before he leaves in a few weeks. He wants something far more profound, something I don’t know if I can give without shattering.
My breath catches, my fingers still tangled in his hair.
"That's what scares me," I whisper, raw and unguarded. "That you'll see it all. That you'll know too much."
His gaze burns into mine, steady and relentless, as if he's already peeling back every secret I've buried. "That's exactly what I want," he says, voice low and certain. "All of you. The parts you're proud of and the parts you hide. The achievements and the failures."
His thumb traces my jawline, a touch both tender and possessive. "Every flaw, every fear, every doubt—I want to savor them all." His eyes never leave mine, unflinching in their intensity. "Nothing you show me will change what I want. Nothing."
The conviction in his voice steals my breath. No one has ever looked at me like this—as if I'm both a mystery to solve and a prize already claimed.
"Let me in," he murmurs, the command wrapped in velvet steel. "Because I don't just want your body against mine. I want your surrender. Your trust. Freely given. Without hesitation."
The words hit harder than his kiss, harder than the press of his body pinning me to the counter. Because he could take me—right here, right now. Every muscle in him vibrates with the restraint it takes not to. His arousal throbs against me, undeniable proof of how much he wants. And yet, he holds back, framing my face with hands that could cage but instead caress.
“I could have sex with you right now,” he admits, voice hoarse, eyes dark with hunger. “But I don’t want your body if your mind isn’t there with me. If your heart isn’t begging me to take you. I want more than release. I want everything. Yourdesires. Your fears. Every corner of you that you’ve never let another man touch.”
Heat floods my skin at his words, at the naked truth in them. His control is a leash he refuses to drop, even though my body is already his, trembling with need, silently pleading.
His thumb traces along my cheek with surprising tenderness. "This is about what you truly want. I'll wait until you're ready to stop doubting yourself. Until you know with absolute certainty that this is what you want. No reservations, no holding back."
The intensity in his gaze makes it difficult to breathe. "I'm patient enough to wait for that moment. When you come to me fully present, without fear. That's when we'll truly begin."
His mouth brushes mine again, a torment of what he’s denying us both. “Until then,” he whispers, breath hot against my lips, “I’ll keep showing you exactly how much I want you… so that when you finally surrender, it’s not just your body I take. It’s everything.”
The raw promise in his voice makes my knees buckle, makes me cling to him even as he gently, deliberately begins to pull back. His control sears deeper than any kiss—because real dominance isn’t in taking what he wants. It’s in waiting until I’m desperate enough to give it all.
And, I’m ready.
Almost.
Chapter 18
The next fewdays melt away like snow in spring sunshine. The routines Max and I have established feel both new and oddly familiar—his morning arrival with that half-smile that's just for me, afternoons of work punctuated by stolen glances across the shop, occasional evenings that stretch later than either of us intend.
We've settled into a rhythm that's becoming dangerously…comfortable.
One thing that’s new and exciting is that morning brings a parade of Angel's Peak business owners, all eager for their slice of Max's expertise. Hunter Morgan from Timberline Restaurant arrives first, tablet in hand, gesturing animatedly about inventory categories for his kitchen supplies. Before he's even finished, Mabel Wilson from the guesthouse slips into the opposite chair at Max's booth, spreadsheets and projections at the ready.
The seamless flow of entrepreneurs continues all day—Lucas Reid discussing operations at The Haven Resort, Dominic Mercer from Silverleaf Vineyards showcasing his implementation of Max's tracking system, and even SheriffDonovan stopping by to see ifthis apphe’s heard about might help manage equipment at the station.
Each visitor orbits around Max's booth like planets around a sun, drawn by his gravity, his expertise. I watch from behind the counter, struck by how he gives each person his complete focus, how his fingers occasionally brush their hands while pointing at screens, how his laughter fills the shop when someone makes a joke.
Yet somehow, no matter how engaged he seems, his eyes always find mine across the room at precisely the moment I'm looking at him, as though some invisible tether connects us.
The parade of beta testers only makes his professional appeal more potent. Watching him solve problems with the same focus and command he showed when his hands were on my body during the blizzard makes my skin warm with inappropriate thoughts.
Authority suits him, whether it's in coding or... other arenas.
Authority. Command. Purpose.
What have I opened myself up to?
An envelope sits unopened on my counter all morning, the return address—Kirkland Properties—promising nothing good. I finally tear it open during a quiet moment between customers, stomach sinking as I read the contents.
There will be a thirty percent rent increase when my lease renews next month.
Thirty percent.
