Page 58 of Open for Negotiation
Chapter 11
Scarlett
Waking up in the arms of Maxwell Duke should be called an ethereal experience. The warmth of his body against mine and the strength of his arms encasing me completely could even be called religious, biblical.
I snuggle back, making sure my back is touching his chest completely, smiling when he instinctively pulls me even closer and laces his legs with mine. His light snoring tells me that he’s still sleeping, so I take the moment of privacy to slide my fingertip up and down his forearm resting across my stomach. His skin is slightly tanned and dusted with brown hair and so soft. Tilting my head to the side, I press my nose into the cloud-like pillow and inhale the scent left there. It’s a heady combination of him, me, and sex.
I’ve never gotten a good look at his bedroom until now, and it screams rich, tortured bachelor.
With the dark walls, deep blue bedding, and black furniture, it is cool and inviting. It’s him.
On the wall directly in my line of sight hangs a large piece of art, nearly covering the entirety of the wall itself, and it takes me a moment to interpret what it might be, what it could represent.
There is a woman in the middle, I think, with her back bare and her long, dark hair billowing over her skin. She’s delicate and small, fairy-like, but that’s not what takes my breath away. The area that she’s staring off into is dark, black as night, with pops of color bursting through, almost like fireworks. It’s visually stunning and so unique.
I shift a little to get more comfortable and my bladder screams for relief. As much as I don’t want to, I have to peel myself away from him and tiptoe over the hardwood and into his huge, en suite bathroom.
After handling my business and splashing some water on my face, I step back into his darkened room to find him on his back, arms behind his head casually, staring at me in my fully nude glory.
“I could get used to this,” he says with his voice rough with sleep.
“Get used to what?”
“Waking up to find you standing naked in my doorway, looking well-rested and thoroughly fucked.”
I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe. In any other circumstance, I’d be immediately inclined to cover myself, to shield myself from judging eyes, but the way he looks at me has shoved those insecurities aside. I just want him to keep looking at me like he wants to devour me alive.
That’s something that I could get used to.
“I suppose I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”
“While I’m more than happy to sit here all day and stare at you, I’d really like it if you’d come back to bed with me and let me get my hands on you again.”
I shrug nonchalantly, like I could care less what he wants, but I have a feeling my smile is betraying me. “I don’t really feel like it anymore. You’re kind of arrogant, and I’m just not into that,” I joke.
“Are you going to make me come get you?”
He cocks his head to the right and gets that look on his face. You know the one that all hot, overly powerful men get when they think they aren’t going to get something they want. Some men don’t wear it well, but when you mix it in with his mussed-up hair, sleep rumpled cheeks, and those eyes… I’m a fucking puddle of quivering goo in his hands.
“I may run.” I take a step toward the door. “Will you catch me?”
“You wouldn’t get two steps out that door before I had that sexy ass tossed over my shoulder and back in this bed where I’d tie you down and make sure you never ran from me again.”
My body tingles at the thought of Max having his way with me like that, but I can’t pass on the chance to goad him about it.
“You know, Boss, I am what one would call a true crime fanatic, and what you just said could be taken in the wrong way if you aren’t careful.”
I take one, very small, step toward the door, pushing his button purposefully.
“Well, I think you’d know me a bit better than that. I may not be a psychopath, but I wouldn’t mind kidnapping you and holding you hostage right here.”
He sits up now, letting the sheets pool around his waist, leaving him bare from there to his jaw, where the incoming beard is beginning to show again.
“Should I be scared?” I ask, smiling ever so slightly, taking another step toward the door.
“Very,” he adds simply as he rises to stand, just as naked as I am. His abdomen is perfectly carved with muscles in just the right places.
I can’t help it, but my eyes drop south, following the line of hair that begins at his navel, trailing down between the V of muscles that makes women go crazy, to the thick tuft of hair above his cock that is beginning to stand at full attention.
