Page 8 of Sam (Eye Candy Ink)

“Mischa.”

“Oh, no. It’s just me.”

“So you were just teasing me? Do you want him?”

I shrug one shoulder. Nice to see that some of my attitude is coming back now that I know that I’m not about to be murdered.

“Enough, Samantha,” Max almost growls as he backs me up against the wall. “I can’t do these games anymore. I’m not some little boy that you can toy with. You say you don’t want a boy, that you want a real man? Well sweetheart, I am a man and I want you. You want me to chase you? You want me to work for it? Sweetheart, I’m more than happy to do both but don’t you ever pretend like you’re with another man or interested in some other guy. Now you need to decide. Do you want me? If you don’t then say it now and I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t want you,” I say in a rush as my heart thunders in my ears.Liar, liar, liar,it says with each beat and I hold my breath. I don’t want him to leave. I want him.

“Liar,” he says as he cups my face in his hands. “Tell me the truth, Samantha.”

“Fuck you, Maxwell,” I say but it lacks my usual heat. Probably because he has me pinned between his hard body and the wall and I can feel everything through my thin jersey dress.

“I want to fuck you. I want you. All of you. Now tell me you want me too.”

“Never.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says as his hands tangle in my bright red hair and he angles my head back. His mouth hovers an inch above mine and I hold my breath, waiting for him to kiss me. I need him too. I need his lips on mine more than I need my next breath.

“I want you, Sam. But I’m not going to take you until you admit it too.”

His lips brush the corner of my mouth and I bite back a groan at the soft caress.

“Don’t take too long, Samantha. I’m not a patient man,” he says before he turns and heads back out the door, leaving me a panting, shaking, horny mess.

6

Max

I’ve always beengood at reading people and situations. It’s how I’ve gotten so far in life and business. I’m willing to gamble on my gut. Which is exactly what I did that night with Sam.

I had almost lost it when she had wrapped her arm around Mischa. I love that kid but I’m not messing around when it comes to Sam being mine. I had watched them leave together and I had followed them, letting out a breath when I saw them leave in separate cars. I still had to follow her home. I told myself it was to make sure that she got there alright, but really I wanted to make sure that she wasn’t meeting him back at her place.

She’s feisty and strong willed and I know that she was fighting this thing between us but I don’t think that she’ll be able to resist a challenge.

Or I didn’t.

Now, I’m starting to have doubts. It’s been three weeks now since that night I laid down my challenge and told her to come find me when she made up her mind about us. I haven’t heard from her since that night either. I thought if I gave her space that she would realize how much she liked having me around and miss me. Now I’m wondering if I really know a damn thing about women or this particular one.

She’s the only woman who matters. I know I promised that I would leave her alone if she didn’t want me too but thinking about not seeing her again has a lead weight settling in my stomach. It feels like someone is trying to pull my heart out. Like I’m not whole without her in my life. When the fuck did that happen?

All of this has led to a lot of confusion and stress over the last few weeks. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been in the best mood. I’m at Abernathy Brewhouse, filling in for my head chef who just quit and walked out. He thinks that he’s too good to be working in a pub. He’s about to find out that my connections are wide and no one that I know will touch him with a ten-foot pole. I’m looking to turn him away when he comes crawling back but for now, I need to figure out the menu and get everything running smoothly again.

The kitchen is chaotic since we’re in the middle of the dinner rush and I’m sweating from the heat of the ovens and stoves, bent over the counter as I try to arrange the truffle burger on the little tray just right. Dress pants and a button-down shirt are not the things to be wearing in this environment and I let out a puff of breath, dying to go outside for just a second to cool down. Servers bustle pass me, asking for orders and taking out trays but I ignore it. I’ve almost got this tray just right when the kitchen door bursts open and I jerk, sending fries skittering across the counter and onto the floor. I curse under my breath, standing up as my patience snaps.

“For fucks sake! What? What do you want?” I snap, spinning on my heels to face the person who just barged into my kitchen.

Sam stands there in a pair of frayed blue jeans and a black Eye Candy Ink shirt. She must have come to see me on her break. Her eyes are wide as she looks around the mess that is the Abernathy Brewhouse kitchen. I rub my own eyes, exhausted from this whole day, from the last three weeks.

“I don’t have time for this,” I murmur under my breath but when I open my eyes, I can tell that Sam heard me. Regret fills me and I want to snatch the words back. I step forward but she takes a step back.

“You can’t be in here, Samantha. If the health inspector saw you in here, he would shut me down.” I try to soften my words but she still looks taken aback and pissed off as she turns to leave and I know that I just royally fucked up.

“Fuck.”

The kitchen is silent as the door swings shut and I know that I should say something to the staff to get back to work but I don’t have it in me. The bitter taste of the words I just said to Sam are still in my mouth and I just want to go home and crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened but I know that I can’t.

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