Page 89 of All the Forbidden Things
I shrug. “Then you best do what you gotta do.”
He looks down at his lap before tipping his head towards the bedroom door. “You need to go first, I’m stark bollock naked under here.”
My cheeks burn, but I don’t move. I don’t say anything either. My eyes slide from his face to his lap, then back to meet his eyes. His brows rise when I do.
The bottle I’m feeding Layla makes a sound, and I pull it from her mouth when I realise she’s sucking on air. “Shit,” I mutter and stand.
Layla lets out a wail as I lift her to my shoulder and head towards the door.
“Bamm,” Max calls, and I turn and meet his hawk-like gaze over my shoulder. “At some stage, we are gonna get creative, you know that, right?”
Despite the fact I’m standing absolutely still, the room feels like it sways and tilts as the sound of my blood whooshes through my ears.
Without saying another word, he turns, allowing me to witness the perfection that is Max Young’s bare back and arse retreating into his bathroom.
Max
What the actual fuck amI doing?
Could be the stress Whitney’s return has caused me. Could be the total lack of sleep caused by the stress of Whitney’s return. Could just be that I’ve lost my fucking mind.
Standing naked in my bathroom, I take in the bleary-eyed reflection looking back at me from the mirror above my sink, and I sigh while I smile. I don’t care what the reasons are. I don’t care about the rights and the wrongs. I want Billie Wild.
I just have no fucking clue what I’m going to do about it.
Everything?
Nothing?
Something?
I have no clue. My life is already a fuck up of catastrophic proportions, and starting something with Billie will only take that to another level.
I exhale a long, slow breath before splashing my face with water. My beard needs a trim, my hair’s a fucking mess, and my life . . . my life is in need of some divine intervention.
I tilt my head back and stare up at the white emulsion on my bathroom ceiling and think about Pete. He was always the father figure I turned to with any “blokey” problems I’ve had in the past.
“What do I do, Pete? Fuck it all and give this a go? Ignore it? Run far away?” This is the level of tiredness I’m at. I’m asking a dead man whether or not I should pursue a relationship withhisdaughter, his twenty-two-year-old daughter.
“Sorry, Pete, ignore that,” I say to my ceiling. I’m not even religious, and I’m not even sure if I believe in heaven or god or any of that, but if any of it does happen to be true, I’m pretty sure I’ll be going to hell when the time comes.
Billie
When I reach the bottom ofthe stairs, Deana is coming along the hallway.
“Oh my god! Is this Layla?”
I want to be sarcastic and tell her it’s some random kid I snatched off the street or an orphan I’ve just adopted from Russia, but then I remember she’s half Russian, and even though what I’m saying might be a little true, I decide it might also be a tad inappropriate. So, instead, I play nice, while holding Layla protectively against me a little tighter. “Yeah, I’ve just got her off to sleep.”
“Could I have a little hold? I’ve only ever seen photos and videos.”
“I don’t think—”
“Maybe take her in to see Whit? She’s having a bad day, and it might just be the pick-me-up she needs.”
“All of that is something you need to discuss with Max.”
She might be tall, blonde, tanned, good-looking, and at least ten-years-older than I am, but I’m pretty sure Max will give a categoricalnoto her request. So, I refuse to be intimidated by any of that, and until I’m told otherwise, that’ll also be the response she gets from me.
