Maxim (Carolina Reapers 10)

He visibly swallowed, then reached over to push some stray hair out of my face. I leaned into that touch, my eyes heavy as they closed. “You should always tell me what you need, Evie.”

His voice sounded far away, or maybe I was just sliding backward down a tunnel of sleep. I couldn’t open my eyes, so I abandoned trying. Instead, I scooted closer to him, seeking out his warmth, his intoxicating scent, his comfort, and found myself settling against his muscled chest.

“Whatever you need,” he said, his fingers trailing through my hair in the most delightful way.

“I’ve always wanted you,” I whispered, the words heavy on my tongue and in my mind. “The only thing I ever really needed…” I sighed. “Was you.”

My eyes were hard as hell to open, but I managed to pry them apart after what felt like a dozen attempts.

Warm, early morning sunlight streamed through the blinds of my room, painting the space in a soft light that easily illuminated Maxim’s face.

Maxim.

Who was sleeping right freaking next to me.

I froze, willing my muscles to lock as I spiraled in my mind, searching for the answer to the question of how the fuck Maxim ended up in my bed last night.

Flashes from last night—all seen through a foggy as hell, gin-colored haze—came back to me in pieces.

Maxim bringing me home.

Water and orange colored vitamins…

And then nothing.

I blew out a breath, studying him. His normally hardened features were so much softer in sleep, his chest rising and falling easily. The blue comforter had fallen off his body, his chiseled abs on full display, the ink winding over his skin beautifully tempting.

I glanced beneath the covers, finding myself in one of my favorite oversized band T-shirts and my panties definitely on. Good. Thank God. Not that I would ever for a second think Maxim would sleep with me while I was drunk, but God knows I would’ve done it regardless. I wanted him that bad, but I sort of wanted to remember it if we’d crossed that line.

Maxim stretched, his eyes opening as he did. “Morning,” he said in the most sexy, raspy tone I’d ever heard. It was a marvel I didn’t moan back. He shifted on his side, tucking one muscled bicep under the pillow as he faced me. “How are you feeling?”

I parted my lips, then closed them. Now that he mentioned it…

“Not great,” I said, noticing the full-on headache pulsing behind my eyes. “Not terrible though.” It could be worse. I’d had worse hangovers before in the rare occasions that I drank too much. The vitamins conversation popped in my head. “I have you to thank for that, right?”

He grinned at me, an effortless smile that probably could’ve melted my panties right off if I looked at it too long.

“Why did you stay with me?” I asked before he could answer. “Not that I’m complaining,” I hurried to add. “Just, remind me?”

“Because you asked me to,” he said, his dark-blue eyes on mine.

Every inch of my body awoke with awareness at his words, at the realization of just how close we were in this bed and how little clothes we currently wore.

He stayed because I’d asked him to and from the clouds clogging my mind, I swear there was some conversation about needs? Ugh, I hated gin right now.

Maxim shifted on the bed, reaching his free hand toward my face, tracing the line of my jaw. I went tight and loose at the innocent touch, my body sparking with need from the simple caress—

He quickly drew his hand back, almost as if he could feel how hot I burned for him, and he was out of the bed before I could blink.

“You need breakfast,” he said as he rushed back into the clothes he found on the floor. His hair was disheveled in a just-woke-up-way that would’ve been super cute if he didn’t look like he was panicking right this second.

Panic crept up my spine as I sat up way too fast, my head screaming at me for last-night-Evie’s choices.

“Pancakes? With strawberries, right? That’s your favorite?” He didn’t let me answer, just bolted toward the door.

God, he was fast off the ice too.

“Wait!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing last night, did I?” I asked, wondering if I’d confessed my undying love for him and that’s why he was bolting right now.

“Nope!” he said from down the hallway.

I sank against the pillows, relief unfurling at his answer.

But minutes later, under the steam of the hottest shower I could manage, I had this nagging sensation at the back of my brain, screaming at me that there was no way drunken-Evie wouldn’t have said something she regretted.

9

MAXIM

I cranked up the speed on the treadmill and ran, and ran, and then ran some more. Every time I thought about Evie—about those grabbable curves and sweet moans, about the sound of her voice as she whispered, “I’ve always wanted you,” I sentenced myself to another mile.