“I didn’t say sleep,” Max clarified. “But yes. I can’t get an Uber, and I can’t stay there.” He gestured towards the main house. “So, if I can’t stay in here, I’ll camp outside. Don’t worry, I’ve done it before. And then as soon as the first train runs, I’ll be out of here.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m sure as hell not staying.”
“But Geoffrey told me you were staying for a week.”
“Geoffrey was mistaken,” Max replied tightly. “I’m leaving in the morning, and I’m never coming back.”
“Never?”
“No. Not while Geoffrey lives and breathes and — look, as much fun as it is having this conversation while facing a panelled wall, can I turn around now?”
“Oh, umm, yes,” Bo replied, running a hand through her hair, feeling awkward again. “I’m decent now.”
He turned around, raising an eyebrow at her T-shirt. “Decent?” he asked sceptically. “You call bare-legged in a T-shirt decent?”
Bo blushed again. “What the hell? All the good bits are covered.”
He paused. “Good bits?”
“Well yes, my, umm . . .” Bo gestured down, before she stopped.What the fuck am I doing?This guy climbed into your room, remember?She took a deep breath. “You’re sure you just need a blanket? A pillow?”
“Yes.” He watched as she pulled at the duvet of her bed, which she’d kicked away earlier. “Don’t give me your own sheets,” he protested. “Just any old blanket will do.”
“I don’t have any others,” she replied easily, before throwing him one of her pillows, which he caught deftly between hands with long and surprisingly strong-looking fingers. Bo stared at his hands for a moment, a sudden jolt of attraction running through her.Fingers don’t have muscles,she reminded herself.So why do his look like they’ve done years of CrossFit? They’re so big they probably have their own rock-hard abs, biceps and an Instagram account with hashtags like #catchpillowsnotfeelings and #fingergymismylife.
She was so lost in thought about his fingers that she was caught off guard when he threw her pillow back at her. She didn’t have time or the wherewithal to catch it, so instead it caught her hard in the face, and she tumbled back down onto her bed.
“Ouch,” she complained, and in an instant he was next to her.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I thought you’d catch it.”
“How are you so strong?” she muttered back. “You don’t look like you—”
“Don’t look like I what?”
“Well, no offence, but you don’t look like you work out,” she replied, rubbing at her face, which smarted in slight pain.
“I don’t work out,” Max replied.
“No? You’ve got a strong arm.”
He made no reply, reaching down to rub at her cheek. “Sorry,” he said again, his voice soft, and something inside of Bo sparked with new and unexpected longing at the touch of his long fingers on her skin.
For a moment, she stopped to consider her options. She didn’t really like this man, she didn’tknowthis man in fact, but all the same, her body decided it wanted him. She hadn’t had sex in a while, all her desire having been packed away with the hurt and betrayal of her last relationship. Her ex-boyfriend, Oliver, had cheated on her and Bo had been wandering in a kind of sexual desert since he left. As she stared at Max now, she found herself somewhat flummoxed that it washimher body now suddenly sparked for. Certainly, he wasn’t her usual type. His hair was that dark kind of blond that wavered somewhere between looking irresistibly golden or emphatically unwashed, worn a little too long so that it hung over his ears. His face was wide, his eyes a simple grey and his mouth was a little too large for the face it inhabited. He wasn’t the tall, hulking type shenormally took to her bed. He wasn’t the usual good-looking male poster boy she fell for. All the same . . .
All the same.
A decision somewhat made, Bo leaned into the hand that still traced her cheek. “I can’t sleep,” she said, emboldened by the lust that was currently coursing through her blood. “And you currently have nowhere else to go.”
Max, to his credit, appeared to recognize an invitation when he saw and heard one. For a moment, he seemed to think, and Bo knew he was considering his options as much as she had considered hers. He didn’t need to think for long though, thank God, and the hand that held her face became infinitely firmer. His fingers were warm, his grip tight, and Bo couldn’t help the shudder of pleasure that rushed through her. Max must have felt it too, because he laughed, soft and low and sultry.
“There’s still the option of the grass, sweetheart,” he murmured, a note of challenge in his tone, and she felt another rush of want go through her. Under her shirt and vest, her nipples suddenly ached, while her skin felt tight and hot.
Sweetheart? One simple and sarcastic endearment and you’re ready to roll over for him?Bo lectured herself, but not for long. She could reflect on this new and unexpected addition to her list of turn-ons later. Right now, Max was looking at her with a delicious expression of desire in his eyes, and she was curious to know how much further she could push him before his hands and mouth were on her body.
“True,” she returned, “the grass is all yours if you want it.”
