Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(15)

Hadn’t wanted to.

And that had been enough to throw me off. Alone, in the dark of night, I could think of him that way, long for him, fantasize. But there was no room for that during the day. There was only room for the reality of what Maxim and I were. What we would never be.

So when those thoughts had lingered, refusing to stay consigned to their rightful place, I’d been thrown off and had retreated back to the safety of my room, the one place I could think of the man but not have to face him.

Or so I had thought.

I’d jumped up when Maxim entered, but stood still as he walked toward me, slow, calculating, ice-cold, and he didn’t stop until he stood close enough to touch me, huge, powerful, foreboding.

Maxim very often, almost always, actually, kept his emotions in check, made it impossible to understand or guess what he was thinking or feeling.

There was no question about what he was feeling now. He stepped toward me, his entire body radiating with anger. I backed away, twisted so I wasn’t facing him, needing to break his intense gaze.

He moved closer and stood behind me, his big body trapping me between him and the wall, his breath warm, rough against my skin. Though I didn’t look at him, I felt his eyes on me, knew that he would stand there for as long as it took for me to look at him.

After two long, tension-filled breaths, I did, saw how dark his eyes were with anger. When he moved closer, close enough that his lips almost brushed mine, I shivered.

He held my gaze, though, and I didn’t look away.

“No locked doors between us, Senna. Ever.”

The words came out a whisper, but I heard them, felt them, down to my very core. I should have moved away from that intensity, but I felt myself moving toward it, moving toward him, his warmth, his scent, the magnetic pull drawing me to him.

But when I blinked, he’d moved away from me. And after a long look, he stepped even further away and left.





Eight





Senna



I moved through Maxim’s office and to the room he had converted into a gym and stopped in the threshold of the open door. His equipment was neatly laid out, the weights, jump rope, and punching post he favored, almost all of what was there.

He used them all, especially the punching post. In fact, his knuckles were scarred smooth from the repeated impact. I’d seen him punch it hundreds of times without flinching, seeming impervious to the pain, the sound of his hands hitting it making me wince, though it seemed to have no effect on him.

But as much as he may have it enjoyed it or the other equipment, more often than not, I found him as he was now, centered in the middle of the room, moving through his rotation of push-ups, slow and then fast.

His heavily muscled back was shiny with sweat, his tree-trunk legs unmoving.

I watched but didn’t speak.

I knew he’d heard me when I’d come in and also knew he wouldn’t speak until he was ready. But I stayed quiet for another, more selfish reason.

Seeing him like this, his powerful physique on display, still focused and controlled but a little wilder, almost like I’d imagined he’d be in the throes of passion, was something I treasured, being the singular object of that focus something I would give anything to experience.

With each motion, I could see the muscles in his broad back tighten, saw that same power in the bunching muscles of his biceps and triceps. Maxim was always a breathtaking sight, but never more so than when he was like this. To see him this way, get a small glimpse of the human he kept such a tight rein on, was one of the joys of my life.

Pathetic, I knew, but true all the same.

As I watched, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be like that with me as he made love to me.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Not ever.

Maxim didn’t look at me that way, never had, so I’d enjoy watching the sweat trickle down his back, the dampness of his dark hair making me want to go to him and touch it.

I wouldn’t, couldn’t, so I didn’t move from my spot, hoping he would take his time and let me enjoy more of this.

But, as if he was reading my thoughts, he finally acknowledged me. And did exactly the opposite of what I wanted.

“There,” he said as he continued to do push-ups.

He tilted his head toward the table beside him, and I went to it and spotted the small box there. I looked at the box, a heavy, lacquered cream rectangle and then pulled the ribbon to glimpse what was inside.

A small brooch shaped like a flower, the leaves, stem, and bloom encrusted with diamonds.

It would fit perfectly with the others, my garden of jeweled flowers, all given to me by him.

I smiled, thinking of how even on this day, especially on this day, this little glimpse of the Maxim that I cared for so deeply warmed and comforted me.