Chapter 8

Emma

From the second Max first came over and grabbed me, I’d been on cloud nine. At first I was a little nervous, sure, but the alcohol soon took care of that. I knew I was saying things I’d probably regret in the morning, but I didn’t care a lick. All I wanted to do was keep talking to him, flirting with him. I loved that women around us were captivated by his dark good looks, but I was the only one capturing his attention. It made me feel special. Even if I only had his attention out of some sort of supervisory courtesy.

And then Lance had to go and ruin everything.

It was one text message, one stupid measly text message. It probably meant nothing to him, but to me it was like a bomb going off.

I miss u.

My heart thumped pathetically, and part of me wanted to run out of this bar right now and go find him. The logical part of me forbade it, and knew it wasn’t right. That side of me knew Lance had callously broken my heart and that he didn’t deserve even a moment of my time. But the other side of me still yearned for him, especially given that the only other guy I had any inkling of a crush on was my completely unattainable boss.

I looked at the text for a couple seconds more than I probably should have, then shoved my phone back into my bra. Max was looking at me, likely wondering what was going on. Across the table, Jeremy and Willow started making out.

My night went from 100 to 0 in the blink of an eye. Now I just wanted to go home.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Max asked.

I looked at Willow again, wondering if I should say something to her about the text. Would she be okay with me dragging her away from Jeremy to do so? Would I be okay with dragging her away from Jeremy? She hadn’t been with a guy in a while, and Jeremy was a pretty prime choice as far as I was concerned. He was smart, handsome, successful, and probably not all that bad a guy if he was close to Max. I was jealous, but I wouldn’t stop her just because I’d received a text message from my jerk of an ex-boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You don’t seem fine.”

I wasn’t. My happy drunk had taken a nose dive into sad drunk, which was only a step away from angry drunk.

“It’s just an ex-boyfriend thing.” I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Max clearly didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either. I knew that getting into my ex-boyfriend drama with my boss, who I had a crush on, was a bad idea. Willow certainly wouldn’t allow it, but she was a little too preoccupied to notice at the moment. When Max ran a comforting hand down my arm, I broke. I blabbed the whole thing.

“Until about a month ago I was dating this guy Lance. We lived together. One day he kicked me out, said he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore and that I was no longer welcome in our apartment. Since then I’ve been living with Willow. I haven’t talked to Lance since, except when he drunk dialed me a couple weeks ago and now this…” I pulled my phone out of my bra and showed Max the text.

His mouth drew down into a frown. “The guy sounds like a dick.”

“Tell me about it.” I put the phone back and took a sip of my drink, trying not to stare too mournfully at Jeremy and Willow. It was getting creepy. “We spent two years of our lives together and he just dropped me like a sack of potatoes the first chance he got.”

I watched Max’s jaw tighten and wondered if he was upset on my behalf. The thought that he might be sent a current of pleasure down my spine.

Finally, Max’s jaw relaxed and he smiled. “Fuck that guy.”

“Thanks.” I dropped my chin to look down at my drink, but Max reached out and tipped my head back up. Our eyes locked, and I felt as though I couldn’t breathe.

“No, Emma, really. Fuck that guy. He’s missing out.” Max dropped my chin, but snatched up my hand instead. I was confused for a second, until he stood up and inclined his head to communicate that I should do the same.

“Are you... asking me to dance?” I inquired.

He tugged on my hand. “Come on.”

I stood up and Max practically dragged me out into the mass of swaying, shaking bodies. I had no idea what was going on, but I was willing to put aside my awkwardness and let myself enjoy the moment. How many opportunities would I have to dance with my hot boss? Maybe he was just doing it because he pitied me, sure, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with it anyway, right?

Max pulled me close and, quite unexpectedly, put a hand on my waist. His other held mine aloft. I looked at him quizzically.

“You do realize this isn’t how people dance in a club like this, right?” I asked.

Max spun me, and I nearly slammed into a girl wearing all leather. When I was back in his arms, his eyes glinted mischievously.

“I realize that,” he replied, dipping low to speak into my ear. “But this is how we’re going to dance. Problem?”

I shook my head, mouth suddenly dry. If he wanted, I’d do the cha-cha up and down this dance floor. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be close to him.

Max rocked me back and forth, side to side, spun me around and round. People seemed to keep clear of us, which was probably for the best. By the second song we were both laughing and being ridiculous. I was having so much fun that I forgot all about Lance, my broken heart, and the laundry list of things I would need to do to feel some control of self once more. I was wrapped in a comforting blanket of Max’s scent, my alcohol buzz, and the possibility of what if. In those precious few moments on the dance floor, everything was right in the world and it seemed like it always would be. The kind of peace I found in Max’s embrace was just as addicting as it was sweet—and it was very sweet.

The song changed again, this time to something with a noticeably darker vibe. The bass came heavy and slow, and people around us swayed with their hands toward the ceiling like barren trees waving in the wind. Max pulled me closer, dropping my hand and placing his on my waist instead. I slung mine around his neck, or at least as close to around his neck as I could get with the height difference.

He didn’t speak, but the fire in his eyes roared at me. My mouth was dry. The room was hot, sweaty. I could feel my shirt sticking to my skin, my hair sticking to the nape of my neck. My body sticking to Max’s.

We were close.

So close.

I swallowed hard and looked away, afraid of the sudden intensity between us. The rest of the crowd fell away, and I looked back to him because I was already missing the heat of his gaze.

His shoulders were hard and muscular, and from this distance I could tell that the rest of him was just as sculpted. My hands longed to slide down his chest, to take his measure right here on the dance floor. It felt like I could, like he wouldn’t even stop me.

I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted him with every fiber of my being, every cell of my composition. And was I crazy to think that the look in his eyes meant he wanted me too?

A hand on my arm dragged me out of the moment. Literally. I looked to see who’d grabbed me and locked gazes with Willow.

“I’m ready to go home. Do you mind if we leave?”

I wasn’t ready to go. Not even close. My knee jerk reaction was to tell her to go sit down and I’d come find her when I was good and ready, but I knew that wasn’t fair. That was just the lust speaking.

“Sure.” I turned back to Max, who was glaring at Willow. “We’re gonna leave. Thank you so much for the drink.”

“Anytime.”

He still hadn’t dropped my waist, and didn’t until I took a step back. How badly I just wanted to stay there! Why did Willow have to come interrupt us like this?

Willow was already holding our stuff, so we headed for the exit. I waited to question her until we were outside, knowing it was pointless with all the noise.

The night air was as refreshing as a cold glass of water on a hot and sweaty day. If I’d had a glass of water to go with it, I would’ve been set. As it was, I’d have to wait until we got home. We started trekking in the direction of the subway, skirting around the crowd of people waiting to get inside.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Willow handed me my jacket, but I didn’t put it on. I was too warm to need it. After my encounter with Max, I thought I’d never be cold again.

“You were about to kiss Max,” Willow said. “I figured I should step in.”

A bolt of white hot indignation cut through me and I dropped my mouth open. “What? I was not about to kiss him.”

“Or he was about to kiss you. I don’t know.” She shrugged, tugging on her jacket. “I just know things looked pretty intense.”

My face was impossibly hot. “You think so?”

Willow rounded on me, looking very serious. “Dude! You’re drunk. I know he’s Mr. Hottiepants but he’s also your boss. Remember that. Think about how awful you’d feel in the morning if you made out with your boss tonight.”

She was right. I sighed.

Willow slung her arm over my shoulders and pulled me in tight against her side. “Did you have fun though?”

I nodded. “Lots.”

Probably too much, now that I was thinking about it. Max was probably just trying to be nice, and here was I reading way too much into it and thinking we were having some kind of moment.

As if.

I appreciated him trying to make me feel better, and it had worked, but next time I shouldn’t allow myself to get so sucked into him like that. If we’d appeared to outsiders like we might’ve been about to kiss, that was probably my fault for staring at him all doe-eyed.

Anyway, it was over. Max and I would probably never have another moment like that again, and while the thought made me sad, it was also a bit of a relief. I didn’t think I could be that close to him again and come out intact.