Mister Romance (Masters of Love #1)

I close my eyes and suck in some deep breaths.

It takes me a moment to understand how I got to his loft and why I’m in his bed, but then it comes back in excruciating detail. Oh, yeah. I inflicted my mental and emotional breakdown on him. As I was blubbering all over his chest, he must have patted himself on the back for being attracted to a crazy woman.

I slowly move out of his arms and retreat to the other side of the bed. As mortifying as my ugly crying was, I can’t deny that I feel better today. The simmering anxiety that’s been with me since Nan’s accident has faded to a dull buzz rather than a deafening roar. Of course, I now have a different brand of anxiety brewing – the type that comes from my ever-expanding feelings for Max. Even watching him sleep inspires an uncomfortable level of affection.

I study his face, so relaxed as he dreams. He really is beautiful, and that has nothing to do with his chiseled jaw or perfect face. It’s because he has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known. He thinks he used to be a terrible person, and maybe he was, but I don’t see that in him now. Everything he’s done for me since Nan’s accident proves it. I’ve never had a man want to take care of me like this before. And even though I’d like to believe I don’t need him, maybe I do. And maybe I can learn to be okay with that.

Goddammit. Why did he have to complicate everything by being so amazing?

I squeeze my eyes shut and lie flat on my back as an epiphany hits me, making the room spin.

Sometimes when self-awareness comes, it’s in shadows and stealth, like a cat; winding around your body until it settles in your chest, comforting and warm. And at other times, it crashes down like a sky-diving elephant looking for a soft place to land.

Right now, the elephant is sitting squarely on my heart, and its name is I’m in Love with This Man.

I drape my arm over my face and sigh.

Shit.

I wasn’t lying last night when I told Max I didn’t know how to do this. A real, grownup relationship is something I have zero experience with, and I’m sure that if there are a hundred different ways to fuck it up, I’ll find each and every one, plus a few no one’s ever thought of. Furthermore, avoiding fucking this up is something I have no time for while Nan’s sick, so if Max thinks I’m going to drop everything to become some perfect little girlfriend, he can just ...

I jump in surprise when a warm hand takes mine, and I open my eyes to see Max lying on his side, watching me as my heart skips several dozen beats.

“Sorry,” he says with an amused expression. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Maybe not, but your grin tells me you’re enjoying it, right?”

He gives a non-committal shrug. “The noise you made was cute. Like a gerbil having shock therapy.”

He looks down at our hands as he links his fingers through mine. “How are you feeling this morning?”

I run my other hand over his and allow myself to enjoy the soft brush of skin on skin. I’ve never thought twice about putting my hand in a man’s pants, but stroking Max’s fingers? It’s such an everyday gesture for most people, but for me it’s a whole new world of intimate contact.

“I feel a bit better,’ I say. ”Thanks to you. I’m sorry for falling apart. I don’t usually do that.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Really?” I tuck some hair behind my ear. “I went full-on emotional disaster area. Can’t think of anything more embarrassing than that.”

“I can.” He props his head up with his hand, and against my will, I stare at his bicep.

“Would you like to share?”

“Well, you did wake up once and look at me like I was an axe murderer waiting to kill you. Then recognition sank in, and you ... uh, well ... then you made yourself comfortable by putting your hand on my crotch.”

“Really?”

“Yep. At first, I thought you were making a semi-conscious pass at me, but no. You just put your hand there and went back to sleep.”

“Did you move my hand away?”

“No. Cupping that general area seemed to soothe you, which is the only reason I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“Wow. Selfless.”

He shrugs. “Eh. I do what I can.”

“I don’t remember that at all.”

He glances down at my bare legs then back up to my face. “That’s okay. I remember it vividly enough for both of us.”

I know he’s thinking about touching me, because there’s no disguising his current arousal in those boxer briefs, but even though I want him more than is probably healthy, how on earth can I contemplate taking something for myself when Nan’s in the condition she is?

“I should go.”

“No, you should rest. You still look exhausted.”

“I wanted to be back at the hospital by now.”

“Dyson’s already there. Honestly, Eden, the best way to help your Nan is to take some time for yourself. We can call to see how she is, but then you need to take a day off.”

He’s just picked up his phone from the nightstand when it buzzes with a message. He checks the screen then holds it out so I can see. It’s from Dyson.

<No change in Nan’s condition, despite some of my best work as Darcy. Never fear, this morning I’m starting on Dickens. My Nicholas Nickleby is sure to do the trick. Tell Eden to relax and get some rest. I got this.>

I smile. I barely know Dyson, and yet he’s giving up his time to help me.

“Are you paying him?” I ask.

Max shakes his head and puts his phone back on the nightstand. “Nope. When he heard, he wanted to help. I think he could tell how worried I was about you. And how important your Nan is to you.” He turns back to me. “So, there you have it. Stay in bed today. I’ll provide whatever you want. Food, drink, emotional support ...” He looks into my eyes. “Physical release … just tell me what you need.”

We both go quiet as the air fills with tension. A big part of it is sexual, but there’s also a sense of awkwardness that comes from not knowing where we go from here. I can no longer deny I need him. Last night proved that. But a few hours of emotional intimacy doesn’t make any of the issues I have go away. It just puts pressure on me to try to be different, and I don’t know how.

“So,” he says then clears his throat. “You ... uh ... never mentioned the stuff we talked about at the warehouse. About my family.”

I take his hand again. “Do we need to?”