Page 5

5

MAX

T he door to my hotel room flashes green and I hold it wide open as Anna pauses. She’s practically bristling, her arms wrapped around her middle like she can hold in all the words I know she wants to hurl at me. I don’t want to spook her and have her change her mind. That said, I throw up a little prayer to the universe that Vienna is having a freak winter storm and there’s no room at the inn. No room, that is except for my room.

The door snicks closed behind us and I follow her in, watching as she stops in front of the large king-sized bed dominating the room.

“Do you want the top bunk or the bottom bunk?” I say, lightly.

Her head swivels to me in disbelief, like I’m some kind of idiot. She surveys the room and I see it through her eyes. It’s luxurious as far as hotels go, with a dark, wood-paneled wall behind the admittedly huge bed – always a plus when you’re over six-two – and intricately patterned fabric wallpaper that is highlighted by the heavy pale gold satin drapes, drawn now by the turn-down service, but earlier framed an incredible view of the city. There’s a small sitting area, with a desk, chair, and floor lamp but it’s clear the room’s main feature is the bed, piled high with crisp pillows and a comforter that looks like it could double as a cloud.

“There’s no sofa bed?” she asks. I shake my head, even though it’s clear there isn’t one. “What about a cot?”

She wanders past the bed, over to the curtains and slides them open enough to peek behind them, as if maybe by some miracle there would be another bed hiding in there.

“There’s just one bed,” she mutters.

“Yep. Just one large, comfy looking bed.”

Her eyes track past me to the bed. “But don’t worry, Anna. I’m a gentleman and I’ll take the floor.”

Anna steps back and turns, crossing her arms again like she’s trying to shield herself. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We’re both adults. We can share.” She sighs, drawing my attention to how she’s hugging herself.

Is she shielding herself from... me? Or just this moment? The same buzz of attraction that crackled between us like electricity the first night we met fills the room. The only difference right now is Anna. When she didn’t know exactly who I was, the night was filled with possibilities. We were just two people caught up in some crazy instant attraction, chemistry making us feel like we’d known each other forever and that this was the start of something new and amazing.

Right now, her guard is up. She’s a fortress, all sharp edges and locked gates, but I’ve spent my entire career learning how to read defenses, and Anna’s body language tells me everything I need to know.

She’s fighting herself, not me.

I shrug off my coat and hang it up. I’m not about to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but I can’t let this opportunity go. If nothing happens, then maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time and I need to put my obsession with this incredible woman in my rear view.

I carefully move closer but lean back against the dresser and shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from reaching for her too soon. Outside, the wind howls against the window, rattling it like it might break. It’s the only sound, apart from the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“I can’t believe I’m sharing a hotel room with you. I’m not even sure how this happened,” she mutters, her voice just above a whisper. She avoids my eyes, studying the floor like it holds the answers.

“You’re not?” I tease, keeping my tone light. Playful. God, I hope it works, because inside, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at her, and hoping she’ll take the leap with me. “Pretty sure it started with a storm, then a hotel capacity issue, and, oh yeah, I offered for you to stay here instead of sending you off into dangerous weather.”

“Because you’re a nice guy?”

It feels like a loaded question. And I know why she’s asking it. I’m not a nice guy. If I were a nice guy, I wouldn’t be able to do my job. But that doesn’t make me a bad guy either. I like kittens and babies, as long as they aren’t trying to take the puck from me.

I shrug. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’ll take the chair.”

She glances down at the overstuffed club chair. It looks comfortable enough to watch television, but I can already feel my back twinge at the thought of waking up there. I’d be better off on the floor. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Anna frowns. “Define fun.”

“Fun as in seeing how long it takes for you to realize you actually like having me around.”

She rolls her eyes “I don’t.”

“It seemed like you were having fun when we were skating,” I say mildly, taking a seat in the chair and bouncing on the cushion. “It’s got some give, and I can put my feet up on the coffee table.” I stand to face her. “I invited you to share a room with me so you would be safe. If that means I take the chair, it’s fine.”

Her eyes snap to mine, a hint of fire flickering there. “Fine? You weigh, like, two hundred pounds, not to mention those trees you have as legs. It will be torture.”

I grin, because there’s that spark I’m craving. “You think I weigh two hundred pounds? I don’t know whether I’m flattered or insulted.”

Her lips press together, but the corner of her mouth twitches. A win. “You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt, stressing the word as I straighten and take one careful step toward her. “I’ll take it as a compliment. Most stats make me sound like a tank.” I do a little catwalk turn. “I guess Luxx wanted me for my model-esque svelteness.”

She laughs but tries to stifle it, and the sound is the cutest snort I’ve ever heard. Her arms drop to her sides, though her fists remain clenched. It’s progress as far as I’m concerned. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” I say, closing the distance between us in another slow step. I want to reach for her—more than I want my next breath—but I don’t.

Not yet.

I’m known for taking risks that pay off and my next gamble feels like it could change the outcome of the game. “This whole thing between us should be impossible, but somehow we’re here, together.”

She blinks up at me, her brow furrowed, and I can see the war she’s waging with herself. It’s written all over her face, in the way she chews on her bottom lip and shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

“Max…” she says softly, her voice trembling just enough to make my chest ache.

God, she’s killing me. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a rough laugh. “You know, you’ve got this way of saying my name that makes it sound like both a compliment and a warning. I know where I stand with you, Anna.” I take a deep breath. “But I want you anyway.”

She frowns, her fingers now fidgeting with the ends of her hair. “I’m just trying to figure out?—”

“What you want?” I finish for her, taking another step that brings me close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something that smells like summer and contradicts the storm clouds in her eyes.

She gives a hesitant little jerk of her head, the tiniest nod ever and the vulnerability I see there, in the most composed woman I’ve ever met, nearly undoes me.

“Come on, Anna” I say, my voice a hoarse whisper. “You don’t have to keep fighting it.”

She swallows and I can see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her collarbone. “Fighting what?”

“Whatever this is.” I gesture between us. Our eyes lock and the air practically crackles with tension.

“This is nothing.” Anna’s voice is barely a whisper, but she doesn’t move.

“Feels like something.” Her fair skin can’t hide the blush that spreads across her cheeks. “Feels like you’re just as curious as I am.”

“Curious?” Anna scoffs, but it’s a weak attempt and I can’t help but notice she still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t pushed past me or turned her back or told me to get out of her space.

“Yeah,” I say, taking the last step towards her. “Curious about what it would feel like to stop pretending you don’t want this. To stop pretending you don’t want me. ”

My hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her breath hitches, and my heart stutters, letting my fingers drop to her jaw in the lightest of touches.

This is it.

This is where she decides.

This is where my future is decided.

“Anna,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be. “If you don’t want this, just tell me. Say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, her gaze drops to my mouth, just for a second, but long enough to make my heart trip over itself. I still don’t dare to hope until her hand comes up to my chest, but instead of pushing me away she closes the space between our bodies and tilts her chin up.

That’s all the permission I need.

I spread my hand over her jaw and pause, giving her one last chance to pull away. She doesn’t. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, and her eyes are wide, flickering with uncertainty and something else. Something that makes hope bloom in my chest.

When my lips meet hers, it’s tentative at first—a question, not an answer. Anna hesitates, one heartbeat, two, and I give her enough space to pull away. But then she sighs against my mouth, her hands finding their way around my neck, and the world tilts on its axis.

I deepen the kiss, my other hand sliding to her waist, pulling her closer, her breasts against my chest and she melts into me, leaning closer, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life.

I’m undone. Completely and utterly.

Her lips are plush and warm, her touch demanding, and I don’t know if it’s the storm outside or the one raging in my chest, but I feel like I’ve just won the biggest prize I could ever aspire to.

When we finally break apart, she’s staring up at me, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. I can feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I don’t care if she hears it. I don’t ever want to wear a mask around her ever again.

“Still unsure?” I ask, my voice hoarse, the teasing edge gone.

She doesn’t answer. But the way she presses her forehead to mine, her hands still clutching my shirt, tells me everything I need to know.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.