What if I want you to beg?Max had asked her earlier, and Bo grasped at those words. She wanted him and needed him and so she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer to her and reaching a hand to his face. She cupped his cheek gently, catching his eye. Max seemed surprised by the sudden, soft touch, staring at her intently.
“Max, please,” she whispered, “I need this. Need you. Please.”
It was the right thing to say. She felt Max pulse within her, and he leaned into her touch. “Fuck,” he exhaled, kissing her hard. He shifted his weight and hers, and suddenly, magicallyand wonderfully, they began to move together in a hurried and eager rhythm.
How have I gone without this for months and months?Bo thought in amazement.How have I gone without him in all this time?There was no time for further reflection though, no time for anything other than the pleasure building deep within her, hot and wet and wonderful, a pleasure that was mirrored in Max’s face. He pressed his forehead to hers, kissing the desperate pants from her mouth, and when she came, it was with his lips against her own.
He gave a muffled cry, his body growing tense under her fingers, muscles tightly coiled and hot to the touch. She held him tight, luxuriating in the noises he made, wallowing in the feel of him so close to her.
Afterwards, they were quiet. Max peeled himself away from her, and she lay there, somewhat dazed, while he took off the condom and disposed of it. When he returned, his shorts had been pulled back up, and he wordlessly offered her his hand, pulling her up from the table and helping her tie her robe. His face was serious, his countenance thoughtful.
“Bo,” he said. “I think we need to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.”
Chapter Ten
“Too late? What do you mean, I’m too late?” Willa sounded frustrated. “You only called me twelve hours ago, Bo!”
“Twelve hours was all it took,” Bo explained, a little sheepishly. “You know what I’m like. I needed someone to talk sense into me.”
“Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t available as your sex interventionist,” Willa retorted. “Do you know how hard it is to leave a film set when you’re on location and in full costume and make-up to take and make personal calls? I told Scarrow it was an emergency. Something about the Titanic and Amelia Earhart, remember? He asked for more details, wanted to know who’d died, and I had to explain that myemergencywas to stop my best friend from shagging her new boss.”
“He’s not my new boss, not now,” Bo returned, shifting her phone to her other ear. “We’ve changed our arrangement.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Max wasn’t comfortable sleeping with someone he was paying a wage to. So, we decided it was for the best if he didn’t.”
“You mean he’s not going to pay you? You’re going to cook and clean for him, and now shag him regularly too, without making a penny? Bo . . .”
Bo frowned. “No, no, no, it’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then? Because I’m worried now. I will have to go to Scarrow and ask for a day off. This guy’s taking advantage of you.”
With a sigh, Bo shifted the phone again. “Max isn’t taking advantage of me. Actually, we decided that it was for the best if I didn’t cook and clean for him at all. He’s going to get someone in to do that.”
Another pause, and with it, another moment of judgement. “So,” Willa finally said. “Paid work is out, and free shagging is in?”
Bo felt a dart of embarrassment. “Something like that.”
“What will you do for money? I know you’ll have the funds from the sale of Geoffrey’s garden soon enough, but what will you live on until then?”
“Ida’s going to increase my hours,” Bo replied, shrugging even though Willa couldn’t see the movement. “I’m not entirely incapable, you know.”
“I never said you were. I know how hard you work. Hm.”
“What does that sound mean?” Bo asked warily.
“Well, two days ago you were going to be paid a regular wage to do the thing you love. Now though—”
“Now I’ll get to do Max,” Bo interjected tersely. “Come on, Wills, when was the last time I was this keen on a man? Let me have my fun.”
“Yesterday you called me desperately tostopyou having your fun. One shag later and the tables have turned so dramatically they’re practically chairs.”
“I like him, Wills.”
Willa gave a long sigh. “Yeah, I can tell. What is it about him? I know it’s not his looks. Mr Two out of Ten, remember?”
Bo wriggled on her bed, discomfort sitting on her skin at her earlier assessment of Max’s physical features. “I wish I hadn’t said that,” she muttered. “If you met him, you’d understand.”
