I clutch the edge of the sink. Standing in a slight lunge, head dipped, so he can reach my neck without extending his arms high.
Maximoff grips my shoulder to keep me steady. Then he runs the blade across my neck. He’s doing better than a good or decent job. I’d seriously believe he’s trimmed my hair a thousand times before. I remember what his brother said. How Maximoff is a pro at everything on his first try.
Okay, it’s somewhat true.
His forest-greens flit to me in the mirror.Yeah, I’m letting you help me.It’s turning him on.
I stretch my arm behind me and grab his ass, and then he steps nearer, his dick up againstmyass. My breath cuts short,fuck—I can feel him hardening.
My muscles sear, veins pulsating. “Someone’s excited.”
“Barely,” he rebuts.
I roll my eyes. “I know what your‘barely’hard cock feels like, wolf scout, and that’s not it.”
He tries to glower, but he has seriouskiss me, fuck me, cuddle meeyes right now.
I grit down, my dick rousing.
I watch him turn off the clippers, finished, and I brush pieces of hair off my shoulders and into the sink basin. I check out the back of my hair that he trimmed.Yeah, he can do that again.
Maximoff puts away the clippers. “Good?”
“Eh,barely.”
He shoots me two middle fingers and straightens up. Nearing me. I lean my shoulders on the wall and give him a slow once-over. He still needs to wash out his hair dye.
Fuck,I can’t stop looking at him.
My nickname for Maximoff fits him better than he realizes. He’s aggressive, short-tempered and insanely protective of his pack. Like a wolf. Then he’s resourceful, resilient, reliant and responsible. Able to survive any situation.
Those two words embody Maximoff Hale more than any other. And for as long as I’m alive, he’ll bewolf scoutto me.
He places a hand on the wall. Beside my shoulder. I unbutton his jeans, and his other hand already dives down the front of my black pants, stroking me—fuck, a groan scratches my throat.
I watch his gaze drift for the slightest second, then focuses more clearly on me.
I rub his very-far-from-barelyhardcock. “What were you just thinking?”
He licks his lips. “That I fucking love how you smell.”
This is the first I’ve heard this from him. “What’s the scent?”
His muscles flex, as I change grip. He curses beneath his breath before he says, “Mint…fresh water and man.”
I could push up against him, but the timerbeepsand cuts us off. We retract our hands, trying to ignore the unresolved tension for right now. Within maybe a minute or two, he’s buck-naked in the shower, rinsing out the hair dye.
While I wait for him, I grab aCelebrity Crushmagazine out of the drugstore bag. He bought the tabloid to see if they mentioned the Charity Camp-Away that begins in five days.
I rest against the sink and flip through the glossy pages.
Showering, Maximoff rakes his hands through his dark brown hair, watching me while water douses him.
I look up at him and flip another page. “Something you want to say?”
“It’s fucking weird seeing you with a tabloid.”
He doesn’t realize how often I have to search social media and tabloid comments for potential “chaos” and threats.
