Page 1 of Max
Chapter 1
Maya
The cocktail menu at the lounge we picked to spend our Saturday evening might as well be written in hieroglyphics for all the attention I’m paying to it. I’m too busy trying not to stare at Max’s hands. They’re fucking huge. With thick, lickable veins running at the back. Stupid, perfect, long, strong fingers. Neatly trimmed nails. Tiny scars, marking his sun-kissed skin from lab work and rock-climbing. And the way his thick thumb keeps tracing slow circles around the rim of his glass? This motherfucker’s killing me…
Maxwell Morgan -Dr. Morgan to his undergrad students, Max to our group of colleagues and friends- is the bane of my existence. We’ve been working in the same department at U.C. Berkeley for the past year, collaborating on projects, arguing about science, and pretending there isn’t enough sexual tension between us to power the entire damn campus.
He’s three years ahead of me, infuriatingly brilliant, and I want to climb his tall, sexy ass like a damn tree.
“Your compatibility data is shit, Max. Your matrices are too rigid,” I reply to the exposé he just made about his most recent experiments, stabbing my finger on the table like there’s a research paper between us. In all fairness, I feel like there always is. While our friends are sitting at the bar shooting the shit, Max and I, as usual, ended up by ourselves, talking shop. Fuckmy life and my obsession with this quiet, sexy, nerdy giant. I’m never gonna get laid ever again if I don’t find a way to break my fascination with this man.
Max replies in that annoying way he talks, like he’s reading from the world’s most boring textbook. In that infuriatingly slow drawl, I try not to find sexy. “The flexibility can be adjusted.” All rumble and lazy pace.
Jesus Christ.It’s even worse right now. After a long week of lectures, endless hours in the lab, and way too many faculty meetings than is good for anyone’s sanity. Plus the loud, fun dinner we all shared earlier at some steak place down the block. Tired Max sounds like someone turned the button to dial down the speed of his speech even more than his measured, articulate pronunciation. I drop my forehead on the table with a thunk, mumbling with my face between my forearms, “Max. I’m begging you. Can you please talk like a normal human being?”
When I raise my head, I catch a ghost of a smile. That barely there, sexy twitch of his full pink lips that makes his mouth hitch at one corner and my nipples stand at attention.Fuck me.Then he gives a small headshake, making his thick, dark curls move around his stupid perfect face. All that olive skin, those cut cheekbones, that sharp jaw, his masculine nose…ugh, kill me now.
“I hate you so much,” I mutter grumpily, but it comes out more like breathy and pathetic.
“No.” His voice drops to a low, gravelly note that has my ears perk up. “You don’t.”
Ex… Cuze me, sir?!Max is looking at me with an intensity I haven’t seen in his dark eyes before. His gaze moves across my face, stopping on my lips, sliding down my throat… Pretty sure I forget how to breathe. Our friends are still chatting loudly and laughing somewhere behind us, but they might as well be on another planet.
“Max… you’re staring,” I finally manage to croak out, trying to sound pissed off but mostly landing somewhere around panting, horny teenager.
He leans in closer over the small, round table until I can smell his cologne… it’s deliciously woodsy and masculine and probably ridiculously expensive. I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes, the square line of his stubbled jaw, and how his white button-down is pulled tight across his wide, muscular chest. Sleeves rolled up, revealing his corded forearms, dusted with a thin layer of dark hair, and thick veins that make me want to lick and bite.
“Baby, I’ve been staring for months.”
Well, sheeit.
“That’s…” I swallow hard, and his eyes track the movement like a predator. “That’s kind of creepy, Max.”
“Is it?” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m some fascinating experiment. “You walk by my office every morning to check on me.”
My cheeks are burning now.Thank the Lord for melanin!“I’m just being friendly!”
“At 6 AM?”
“I’m an early bird, asshole.”
“Maya.” He says my name in a rough whisper that makes my thighs clench.
I open my mouth to tell him off, but then his hand covers mine on the table. His palm is warm and rough, and his fingers are so much bigger than mine… I can’t help thinking about what those hands would feel like on my body.
“I’m done waiting,” Max adds.
Fuck me.All these months of pretending I don’t want to get in the man’s pants, of telling my girlfriends they’re crazy when they say we have chemistry, of lying awake thinking about hisbody after his brain has flooded me with intellectual orgasms. And now…
“Max…”
“I’ve been patient for a fucking long time, Maya.” His thumb starts tracing maddening circles on my knuckles. “I’ve watched you destroy students, argue with professors, and do brilliant work.” His dark, almond-shaped eyes crinkle at the corners. “Hot as fuck.”
I’m staring at this lunatic genius who most of the time talks like he’s dictating a research paper, but right now looks at me like I’m his favorite meal and he’s been starving.
“You’re insane,” I whisper hoarsely.
Max just smiles, then he lifts our hands and presses his lips to my palm. They’re soft and warm, and when his tongue flicks out to taste my skin, I nearly moan out loud. “That a yes, sweetheart?”
