Maxim (Carolina Reapers 10)

I shook my head. “That’s tomorrow-Evie’s problem.”

He laughed, and I smiled up at him. “I love the way your laugh sounds. It’s like champagne and fireworks.”

Fuck, did I say that aloud?

Maxim laughed again. “You sound like those romance books you love so much.”

My eyes grew heavy, but I kept them open, not wanting to miss anything he said. Wait, why were his arms around me again? I shifted in his embrace, meaning to walk to my room, and the damn floor wobbled again. Or was that my knees? Ugh.

“Here,” he said and slid an arm beneath my knees, cradling me to his chest as he walked into my room. “This way it won’t take you all night to get there.”

“Well, aren’t you my very own Illyrian warrior,” I teased.

“What the hell is an Illyrian?”

“A sexy-as-hell winged faerie.”

Maxim stopped on the way to my bed, our faces inches apart. “Did you really just call me a faerie?”

“Yes. A sexy one, not a scary one. They’re like huge. And strong. And secretly cinnamon rolls. Like you.”

Maxim pressed his lips together, holding back another laugh as he nodded. “Cinnamon roll faerie,” he said, sitting me down on the bed. “That’s one I’ve never been called before.”

The buttery soft comforter sank with my weight, and I sighed at the contact. Maxim took a few steps away and then whirled around as I reached for my shirt. I’d worn a pair of black leggings and a tunic and a bra and I needed them off, like now.

“Whoa, Evie,” he said, but I ignored him, and shed the clothing that was suddenly way too constricting.

“Can you throw me a T-shirt from that top drawer please?” I asked, pointing even though his back was to me.

“This one?” he asked, reaching for the drawer in front of him.

“Yep.”

He grabbed the first T-shirt he touched and inched his way backward without turning around, extending the fabric toward me.

“Thanks,” I said, instantly sliding into the oversized band T-shirt, the smooth cotton so much more forgiving than the tight bra and leggings had been. “Why are you acting weird?”

“What?” he blurted, cautiously glancing over his shoulder before fully turning back around to face me.

I scooted back on the bed, tucking my bare legs under the covers. “You’re being weird,” I said again. “I literally sat on your face two weeks ago. Why are you acting like you can’t look at me now?”

Oh, shit. Maybe he didn’t want to look. Rejection and panic threatened to steal the super delightful drunkenness I had going on right now, but luckily the gin combatted that away too.

“Wow,” he said, his voice rough. “For starters, you’re absolutely hammered,” he said. “And call me old-fashioned, but I’m not about to take advantage of you while you’re like this.”

I smiled up at him. “See. Definitely a book boyfriend.”

“What?” he asked, then shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get you water. Lots of water.”

I settled into the pillows, relishing the way they cradled my heavy head.

“Here, drink this. Eat this.” Maxim was back in seconds, handing me a bottle of water and two cute little orange gummies while he took a seat next to me on the edge of the bed.

“Candy?” I asked before popping the gummies into my mouth.

“Vitamins. Trust me. They’ll do wonders for the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.”

I drank the water down to the dregs, a few droplets lingering on my lips that I chased away with my tongue. “Happy?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “Very,” he said, but his voice was rough and low, like he didn’t mean to answer that way. “Get some rest, Evie,” he said, rising to stand, but I captured his wrist.

“Will you stay with me?” I asked, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t understand.

“I told you I won’t take—”

“Just to stay,” I said, moving over to make a spot for him on the bed.

He stood there, contemplating as he stared at that empty spot. I swear I held my breath until my lungs ached, not fully understanding what I’d asked for or why it was so damn important to my heart.

Again, tomorrow-Evie could sort all that out. Right now, I only knew I didn’t want him to leave.

Silently, Maxim unbuckled his belt, then dropped his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head until he was in nothing but his boxer briefs. Blue ones that matched his eyes and did absolutely nothing to hide how damn big he was.

My mouth went dry as he climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and laying on his side to face me. I mimicked the movement, our eyes locking.

“Thanks for taking me tonight,” I whispered, as if we needed to be quiet here in this bed, in the dead of night. “I needed that.”