Page 8 of Her Reclusive Beast

He must think so too, because he gives me a curt nod and stalks from the kitchen.

I take my toast and coffee back to the office, somehow feeling like Max will come up with an answer. The story is reaching its climax now. The young boy, now a man, is wrestling with his feelings for a young woman who is unaware of his origins. He knows he doesn’t want to risk children inheriting his manipulated genetics, but he doesn’t want to impose that restriction on her otherwise normal life. Nor is he convinced that she has feelings for him.

I flip over to the next page and realize I’ve reached the end of the stack that Max gave me. That can’t be it. That can’t be the end!

Without even considering my actions, I spring up and go on the hunt for Max. I finally find him in that funny back room with the reading chair. The light is on against the early gloom and he’s glowing faintly with that same blue-white light I observed last night. He’s reading some old tome or other. I park myself at his side so I can lean in and glare at him. “Where’s the rest of it? He’d better be telling her how he feels or I’m going to make you re-write it again,” I threaten with full editorial ire.

Max blinks, then scans my face. With lightning speed, he pulls me down on his lap and seals his lips over mine.

My gasp of surprise is all the opening he needs. He seizes the opportunity to thrust his tongue between my teeth. My hands clutch his shoulders to keep from falling, although something is telling me even that won’t be enough to regain my equilibrium. Finally, he releases me, only to pull me tighter against his chest.

“Max?” I quaver, wondering whether the whole world has gone crazy or just my little corner of it.

“Max? I’m confused,” I state again directly into his cotton-covered chest.

There’s an inquiring rumble beneath my ear, but he doesn’t bother to form words or to release me sufficiently to evaluate his expression.

“You obviously wrote that before I arrived, so while I can guess the main character is you, there’s no way I’m Ella. And you alternate growling at me and hugging me. And then there’s that kiss… anyone would be confused.”

Finally he speaks. “It has to be completely your decision, Jenna. And from your heart. Not because of your job or your sympathies.”

“You think I feelsorryfor you?” My voice rises to a startled squeak, and I push back hard enough for Max to loosen his grip. I stare into his stern face. “You are a world-famous author. You have all this house and woods to yourself.Youcertainly don’t need five roommates just to keep a roof over your head.”

He has the grace to wince. “But do you wantme?” I don’t think he meant to say it. The startled look on his face tells me he desperately wants to claw the words back.

Max averts his gaze while I take my time, tracing every line of his face with my eyes. The small bump on the bridge of his nose, the high cheekbones, the elegant arch of his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do. I have for months. But I won’t be your temporary fling just because you finished a book and want to celebrate.”

He both growls and laughs. “And I won’t be the older man who uses power and influence to bind you to me. So I guess we’re both in agreement and at an impasse.”

I mull over his words, trying to find the hidden meaning. I think I understand. He’s worried my feelings aren’t mature and voluntary, that they might fade quickly in a different environment, and I’m worried that he has feelings at all.

“So what do we do?”

He sighs. “We wait. Until you quit your job, and my relationship with Rudnam is at an end.”

“And then what?” I press him for more because that sounds too ambiguous and will have me crawling out of my skin.

“And then we explore this connection between us. I need to know that this is what you want, Jenna. So once you’re free of your entanglements, it will be up to you to set the pace. You want to know my secrets? When you come to me and offer up your own orgasm, I will tell you one story from my past. Sleep with me in my bed and I will allow you to explore my body. But I won’t be fucking you until you know everything and have had a chance to reflect.”

His even tone tells me he’s thought about this for a long time and is dead serious. I pick at one of his shirt buttons, frowning in concentration. “It sounds awfully transactional,” I mutter.

Max snorts softly. “Believe me, if I did what I want to do, you would never leave this house again. You’d be too sore and exhausted. This way is better for you. It allows you to back out with minimal consequences.”

He’s putting me first, I realize, and fall a little bit more in love with him on the spot. If I decided to leave in a month, I’d have a story of might-have-beens and Max would be here… all alone. Just like before.

“If you already had these feelings for me, why didn’t you want me to come?”

He shrugs. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d be too perfect. Afraid the Jenna I saw was just an illusion. Sometimes it’s easier to simply enjoy the dream.”

I hmmph at that. Maybe easier for him. But it’s obvious to me that he’s not going to waver from this plan of his. At least not until I can loosen him up a little. “Well, if that’s the case, then where’s the rest of this manuscript so I can get it done?”

His lips twitch and he reaches to pull out a small drawer in the side table next to his chair. He hands me a fresh stack of notepads, significantly shorter than the first, thank God.

“I wanted to see your honest reaction to the book up to that big decision point. You didn’t disappoint me, sweet girl. Your response gives me the patience to wait for you. Now, back to work, Jenna.” He drops one soft kiss on my forehead and then lifts me off his lap.

Max quirks one eyebrow and then stands. “Go on, that manuscript won’t edit itself.” He tugs me out of his little snug and towards the front of the house. But when we reach the entry, he pushes me gently down the hall towards the office.

---