“You like me for more than sex,” I add, grinning at him even as he stares at me blandly.
What I expect is for him to say nothing to confirm or deny, but instead, he says, “As I said, if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be in my bed. I don’t need my bed for sex.”
I cock my head, riding the high. “That’s dangerously close to sounding like a declaration of love from you.”
This time, he does turn and walk away without saying anything, as that annoyed look takes over his expression. I laugh to myself as he punches in the code to the door.
“I’m not sure why you seem surprised that I like you for more than sex,” he says quietly.
“Mostly because you’re still a mystery, which makes me feel like you don’t trust me with your secrets. It’s mostly me telling you about me, and you telling me nothing in return.”
His hand pauses on the doorknob, and he glances over his shoulder at me. “I don’t tell anyone my secrets.”
“You told Drex,” I remind him, since he told me that in the beginning.
“Drex and I met in juvie, and he was in the same group therapy session I was in. And he had my back in that place, so I had his and kept him from getting killed. He overheard what was said in group when they basically told me to start talking or I wasn’t getting out until I was eighteen.” He shrugs. “He kept his mouth shut about it, and I came to live here.”
He gestures around the warehouse.
“Now it feels like I live here again, since going home hasn’t been safe in a while,” he adds.
“Why were you in juvie?” I ask curiously.
“My foster home had a prick kid five years older than me, who slammed me against the wall. It was one of those times I didn’t want to be touched,” he tells me with a cold smile. “By the time they were able to pull me off him, he was unconscious.”
“Why did—”
“Enough twenty questions, Maya. We’re here to look at what you paid for, remember?” he asks, interrupting me.
“Why does it feel like you told me something and nothing at the same time?” I volley, crossing my arms over my chest as I grin up at him.
Frustrated—with me—he pushes open the door, and I follow him into the garage. When I see all my party vans, I move to the first one, and Axle opens the door, letting me inside.
Quickly, he shows me the numerous hidden compartments, all of which don’t knock hollow and have secret levers to open and close them. He breaks down the x-ray blocker—not that they’ll have that, but I like his preparation—and the body heat hiders for me.
I listen to him be…really fucking genius as he explains all this. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve known he’s clever, but this is brilliance at its finest.
And seriously hot.
When he’s finished, he moves me around to the other fifteen, though I’m only halfway inspecting them, since I know they’re up to par. Axle wouldn’t leave me with something that would screw me over.
He has too much integrity for that.
Yes, even criminals have integrity.
I lean against the back of a van, cocking my head as we finish up, and Axle explains what’s next.
“We’ll drop these off at the drop point, and leave the code for the doors on the burner phone number you gave us. They can pick them up with a list of instructions that explains every detail,” he says to me.
“So do you really like the blonde, or were you just telling me what I wanted to hear?” I ask him.
He rolls his eyes, something he’s done a lot around me. And only at me, I’ve noticed.
“We’re discussing the vehic—”
“We’ve been discussing them for two hours. I know what happens next. It’s the third time you’ve walked me through it, and I know you’ll handle it without fail. It’s business, and you handle your business. What I want to discuss is if you like the blonde. Because I almost went red.”
“It’s your hair,” he states dryly.
“I don’t have to see it unless I look in the mirror, but you have to deal with it all the time.”
It always makes me smile more the more exasperated he gets with me.
“I like the blonde, but I’ll have to fuck you facing me for a while. It’ll confuse me if I’m behind you and think I’m fucking someone else.” He says this with a straight face. Yep.
“No wonder you brood so much,” I say on a sigh, causing him to tilt his head in confusion. “You really are terrible at making jokes.”
A small rumble of laughter leaves him, and he presses against me, kissing me as I lean into the back of the van. The obnoxious motors roaring outside are the only things that break up our moment.