Page 23 of Bewitching Her Monsters
He stares at the dead phone, looking guilty, and then gazes into my eyes.
His presence is so big and imposing that I almost imagine that his energy presses into me—into my mind.
I hurry to explain further, “I shouldn’t have taken the pics. I wasn’t going to share them. Just trying to remember you for inspiration. But I guess that still sounds sleazy, huh?”
Maxum finally blinks, and I fall back in my seat. “And what did you write about me in your notes?”
“Um, just your appearance. Nothing much.”
He takes a bite of his scramble and watches me, waiting for me to break and tell him more.
I crumble under his gaze. “Don’t be mad. So… as you know, I write romance… well,paranormalromance. And I imagined you could be a demon in disguise, and the broody leader of a ragtag group of mythological beings.”
He stops chewing, appearing shocked that I’ve cast him as a monster.
So much for my flirty date!
“But you’re a hot demon. A bad boy, but you could also really fall hard for the heroine. Touch her and die vibes. Believe me, it’s a compliment in the romance world!” I cover my eyes, waiting for him to get upset and lecture me.
“You’re not wrong,” he says quietly.
I peek through my fingers. “And you’re not mad?”
He shakes his head.
I finally feel settled enough to eat, but while I do, I can’t help but wonder why he agreed with my assessment. “What part did I get right? Do you fall hard when you fall in love?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever beeninlove.” He picks at his food with a fork.
“Oh… Then what part did I get right?” I cock my brow and grin. “I see… you consider yourself a bad boy. Or would you be possessive and protective? Or both?”
“All of it.” He flashes his dazzling and almost frightening smile.
Is he a psycho?
He has dark red tattoo lines peeking out from under his long sleeve shirt where it pulls up at his wrist. The ink probably covers his arms and chest. He would probably lookfucktacularif he were shirtless, posing as some promo model for a dark mafia book.
So I pegged him… well, ahem, not pegged. I hop onto that caboose to travel to my imaginary scene and wonder if he’d be into a woman strapping one on and going to town on his perky ass. Fortunately, I quickly jump off the sex train of thought.
Goodness, I’m worse than a teenager.
Where was I?
Oh, yes, Iguessedcorrectly. Maxum is a possessive bad boy.
“Good to know.” I take another large bite of my eggy scramble.
“And the others? Do you have anyguessesas to what they are?” he asks. Why the question sounds so loaded, I do not know.
“They aren’t guesses, just musings. Creating characters, you know?” I really hope he doesn’t make me answer this question. It’s not like he doesn’t already know I’m a perv. But admitting my list of perversions and kinks to my object of lustful desires is a whole other level I’m not ready for. “Wouldn’t you rather we talk about you?”
“No. I’d rather talk about you,” he states firmly, with a stern look that makes me want to obey.
He’s giving off dominant, master of the dungeon vibes, and my panties are officially flooded.
He continues, “It sounds like getting to know you means understanding your life as an author.”
Well, isn’t he fucking smart. And dang, he’s called me out. I sort of have to answer his question now.
