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My fingers still burn from when we shook hands, my womb quaking and trembling and screaming at me to touch him again, to claw onto him and never let go.
“Thank you for doing this,” I murmur, unable to sit here silently as he stares at me with firm eyes. “It means so much.”
“It’s not a problem,” he says, with a gruff note in his voice. “Honestly. Your letter really moved me.”
“I can’t even believe you responded.” I whimper, finding it difficult to meet his eyes when he keeps staring at me with so much unwavering attention like a bomb could go off outside and he wouldn’t even turn away.
Is he angry?
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“I had to,” he growls, as though he’s struggling not to upend the table.
“You… had to?”
My voice falters and I reach for my coffee, just to give my hands something to do. But then I remember it’s too hot and snatch my hands away, almost scalding myself. I feel even less coordinated than usual, clumsy and slow.
“Because of your letter,” he says stiffly, nodding.
There’s something in his eyes, those intense wolfish eyes I’ve stared at so many times on my laptop screen. My belly aches with the desire to read him, with the need to be able to penetrate that steely mask to what’s happening underneath.
My sex doesn’t care about the need to be civil. It tingles and buzzes with sensation, as though commanding me to throw myself at him, grind myself against his pulsing manhood until he’s rock solid and ready to thrust up inside of me.
“So.”
He leans forward, looking at me with even more intensity in his expression like he knows all my hopes and dreams and is ready to support me, ready to be the rock I’ve never had.
Except for Kelly, but that’s not the same as a life partner.
As the only man I ever want to be with.
For-freaking-ever.
I warn myself to focus as my overactive imagination tries to get away from me.
“What sort of stuff do you write, Maddison?”
“You can call me Maddie if you want.”
My cheeks turn a hot shade of red once the words escape, the blush spreads down my neck and over my breasts, making my skin hot. Or maybe that’s just him, his heat, burning through me as I struggle to return his gaze.
Nobody calls me Maddie except for Kelly.
But I feel so freaking close to him, as though I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.
Heck, what am I saying?
And I have.
“I write fantasy,” I tell him. “I know it’s dorky as heck, but there’s something about disappearing into magical worlds that really appeals to me.”
He stares, his expression existing somewhere between hot and cold, as though even he doesn’t know how to feel about me. But that’s just my eager mind again, inventing shades of him that don’t exist, that I only wish were true.
“Because of your parents,” he says matter-of-factly.
A shudder travels through my whole body, causing my skin to tingle and my heart to drum heavily.
I bite my lip, nod, and quickly let my lip go because maybe he’ll find it gross.
“Yes,” I murmur a moment later. “I used to read so much fantasy as a kid, and then one day I just started to write. It felt right, you know? It felt like the genre I should be writing. I know it’s not as commercially viable as crime, thrillers, that sort of thing…”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snarls. “I can see how passionate you are about it, Maddie. I can feel how passionate you are. So if fantasy is what you want to write, write it. I won’t be able to help you with the specifics of writing fantasy, but I can help with your writing in general if you think it would be helpful.”
I let out a giggle, shaking my head as disbelief makes my head spin.
“Um, yeah. I think that would be very helpful.”
He studies me for a few moments in silence, with that intense unreadable look in his eyes. I wish I could reach past that steely dreaminess to the emotion underneath. I wish I could push past that shield of gruffness to pick through his thoughts.
Because he looks pissed.
Even as he offers to help me with my writing career, he looks like he’d rather throw his drink in my face.
“I… Where do we start?” I mutter, simply to fill the silence, the awkwardness hovering between us. I nod to my handbag on the floor near my feet. “I’ve got my laptop and some notes.”
“First I want to talk about you.”
His eyes glimmer and the corner of his lips twitch like he’s about to break into laughter. But despite the sparkle in his eyes now, and the stern attention aimed at me before – like I’m all that exists for him and nobody else matters – I can’t fight the feeling I’ve done something to upset him.
