Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

“Yes, you did. I know how your mind works by now.”


I feel my face flush in embarrassment. “There are a lot of beautiful pieces here. Your mom had good taste. Expensive, too.”

“My father bought them for her.”

I nod. “Ah, so he was Mister Romance senior?”

His face twists, and he laughs, short and bitter. “No. Not at all.” His shoulders bunch. “What are you doing here?”

I close the drawer and slide my phone into my pocket. “I’m just trying to find out the truth, Max.”

“I had every intention of telling you the truth.”

“When?” He stares at me, unblinking. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but you’re the king of stonewalling. For all the time we’ve spent together, I still know virtually nothing about you – the real you. Is it any wonder I’m having trouble trusting your motivations? Yes, we’ve been getting close, but you’re a fantastic actor. And let’s not forget, you gloated you could make me feel something for you as a way of killing the story. So the fun time at Maxwell’s apartment and then the kiss ... For all I know, this is all part of your grand plan to protect yourself.”

“My grand plan went out the window the moment I realized I was the one developing feelings.”

“That’s what you say, but according to the steroid twins who moved your furniture today, you’re freaking out about a reporter who’s been sniffing around and working your ass off to get rid of me.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he stares at me. “And you found it all too easy to believe, didn’t you?”

“I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore. My brain hurts, and for the first time since I was eleven years old, my heart hurts. And neither of those things feels good.” I rub my face, feeling tired and thoroughly confused. “All I wanted out of this arrangement was a story. That’s it. Not whatever the hell is happening between us.”

“Do you think I had any intention of feeling like this? Because in case you don’t already know it, you’re a pain in the ass. You complicate my life in the most intoxicating ways, and everything I used to want has been thrown into chaos because of my intense goddamn need for you.”

Every time he says something like that, he carves another chink in my armor. But if I accept him at his word, I have everything to lose, and he has everything to gain. Admitting I want him means he’s won, and the moment I kill my story, he’ll have a free pass to say, “Oh, oops. Never mind. All those pesky feelings have conveniently vanished. See ya!”

He waits for me to say something, and when I don’t, he walks over to the desk beside me and pulls a framed picture from the top drawer. “Okay, fine. It looks like we’re doing this.” He hands me the picture. “This is my fucked-up family.” I study the faces looking back at me. “At least it was. I don’t have a family anymore.”

The picture was taken in a garden, with what must be his mom and dad laughing as they hug their two tall sons. I recognize Max but not the other good-looking boy.

“That’s my older brother, Spencer. He died of a drug overdose when I was seventeen.” He points to his father. “That piece of shit is my dad, and he’s currently lazing around in a cushy white-collar prison for screwing hundreds of people out of their life savings. And that ...” He swallows as he brushes his finger over the pretty woman’s face. “That’s ... my mom.” He stares at her with a haunted expression. “She killed herself three weeks after Dad was arrested, which was six months after Spencer died.”

He opens the back of the frame and pulls out the picture. “Here,” he says. “You’ll need to scan this for the story. Spencer overdosed on heroin, in case your editor asks. And mom took sleeping pills. Dad’s due for parole in a few months, but I really hope he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t deserve to be free after everything he’s done. He’s dead to me.” Max thrusts the photo into my hand. “Take it. You’re right, I’ve been holding out on you. I promised you full exposure, so here it is.”

“Max ...”

He walks over to a filing cabinet and yanks open the drawer. “I have more pictures of Spence in here somewhere. Even a couple taken at a party where he looks like he’s out of his mind on drugs, which he probably was. And there’s a nice one of Mom that was from a charity event a few weeks before she died.” He rifles through a box of photos in the bottom of the drawer. “There are even a few of me at my high school prom. I’m sure you’ll get a laugh out of them.”

When I walk over and put my hand in the middle of his back, he freezes.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come here. I should have waited until you were ready, and I –”

That’s as far as I get before he spins around and pushes me up against the filing cabinet as he kisses me. The unexpectedness of it shocks me into stillness for a second, but as soon as I register the warmth of his lips against mine, I moan and open my mouth to him.

Jesus, the taste of him. The white-hot hunger that flares when he kisses me as deep as he can. He groans in relief as I kiss him back, and then things go from hot to downright incendiary when he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He shoves my back flush against the filing cabinet as he grinds against me. The metal clangs loudly when he plants his hand on top of it to get more leverage. The rock-solid feel of him, even through his jeans and mine, launches my body into a level of arousal it’s never felt before. I squirm and pull him closer, trying to get some relief from the incessant pulsing between my legs.

“God ... Max.”

I anchor my hands in his hair as he kisses my neck, nipping and sucking, his breath hot and ragged. I want to get naked with him. Tear off the clothes separating us and press my fevered flesh to his hard, warm skin. He talked last night about the difference between sex and fucking, and right now, there is zero doubt in my mind I need Max Riley to fuck me, furiously and with zero restraint.

With rough, desperate hands, I shove his jacket off his shoulders, and he puts me back onto my feet so he can help. My jacket is next, flying onto the desk as I press Max against the wire fencing and palm his erection.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes. “Fuck, Eden.”

“I need this,” I say, savoring the hard line of him. “Please.”

I fall to my knees and start on his belt, but before I can get it unbuckled, strong hands close over mine. “Wait.”

I look up at him in confusion. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.”

“I’m not. I’d like nothing more right now than to fuck you until we both can’t see straight ... but I can’t.”