Page 69 of Except You

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He nods again, and I pull away, turning toward him and placing my hands on his cheeks. He’s warm and rough and leans into my touch. His eyelids flutter shut and he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to my wrist, and I about melt into a puddle on the floor.

Oh my god, I’m in so much trouble.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to meet up with them anymore, that I needed a break, but I did it anyways. And fuck, Beau. It’s just the way they talk about people, how hateful they sound. It’s gross and it reminds me of who I was. Before you. Before therapy. Before I started pulling my head out of my ass.”

I nod and he threads his fingers through my hair. It’s my turn to sigh and lean into him.

“You’re becoming a better person. I firmly believe people can grow and change. That makes you stronger than those dickheads. I promise you that.”

Max nods, his eyelids flickering open and settling on my lips.

Oh my god, if he ever kissed me, I’d just expire. I wouldn’t survive it.

But he doesn’t. He just pulls away and then presses another kiss to the inside of my wrist before dropping it.

“It smells good in here.”

“Ah, yes, I am trying out a new recipe I found online. Had a craving.”

He nods and then follows me back to the stove, watching me with his hip against the counter and his fingers fluttering out to mess with my apron and my exposed skin more times than not. It’s like he can’t stop touching me.

“Make the salad,” I say, my voice coming out a lot more commanding than it should.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. I’m Bow-tie to you, mister.”

He grins at me, the first one since he arrived home, and gets to work. When we finally settle down at the table, our plates heaping with food, I watch as he chews and swallows. His Adam’s apple works seductively, and I swear, the small moans he makes when he tries my garlic bread make me so hard it hurts.

“Could you stop with the sexy noises,” I grumble.

He pauses mid-chew. “I’m just eating.”

“You make the same sounds when you eat as when you come. I know these things.”

His cheeks pinken, and he shifts on his chair. “You do.”

Oh well, now I’m all hot and bothered, thinking about him straddling my legs and coming all over my chest.

“Stop ogling me. I need to finish this. I spent an inordinate amount of time cooking it, and we will not stop to jack off.”

“If you say so,” Max says with a grin and then bites his bottom lip. “But after we can.”

“Oh my god.”

I don’t even want to eat now. Just want to get to the good stuff, but I make myself finish my plate. On principle.

When we’re done, Max just eyes me, those blue eyes stormy now.

I know what he’s thinking. I know what he wants.

Too bad Doggo has other plans. He whines at the door, probably needing to go out to use the bathroom. So, we take him for a walk, our hands linking and separating the entire time we stroll around the block, and when we finally make it back to the house, Max unleashes Doggo and then pulls me into the bedroom.

The door closes with a snick, and he locks it.

I swallow roughly, not sure what to expect, but he just reaches over and tugs my shirt off my head, tossing it onto the floor.

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