I wanted to see what made him tick, and apparently, it was me. His jaw twitched, and a soft look of challenge flickered across his face.
“You’re staring too,” he said after a moment, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he countered easily. “I think you like what you see.”
I rolled my eyes, heat creeping to my cheeks. But I was relieved his brief absence of Max-isms was over. “You’re so cocky.”
“All 8 and a half inches would agree.”
His grin stretched smugly across his face when he saw my mouth drop open. He cranked up the music.
We pulled off into town, and instead of heading straight to the tattoo shop, Max parked in front of a tiny corner diner.
“I’m starving,” he said. “And you need food, otherwise you get… moody.”
“Moody?” I arched a brow, getting out of the truck and meeting him on the sidewalk.
He mimicked me, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. “Max…”he whined in a high-pitched voice. “I’m so hungry, I’m shaking.”
I shoved his shoulder, laughing, but he caught my wrist and spun me into him.
For a second, we were too close. Chest to chest. His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered, and for one second, I swore he might actually?—
He cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing me. “Come on, baby. Pancakes.”
He mimed an eating motion, and I stared hungrily at the way his arms flexed with the movement.
Baby. He had called me,baby.
Get a grip, Mackenzie.
His hand squeezed my waist on the way inside, just enough to make me squeak. I needed to start calling himdangerous,because he was making me feel things I had never felt before.
The diner was washed in sunlight, and the booth was too small for someone his size. He grunted as he tried to get comfortable. We sat side by side, despite the tight squeeze, practically on top of each other. His thigh brushed mine every time he shifted, and though my mind pretended not to notice, my body did.
We were too entuned to each other. It was hard not to react. I could feel his restraint rippling through his movements, too. We were both trying to behave, but we didn’t want to.
“Want a milkshake?” I asked, clearing my throat and flipping open the laminated menu.
“It’s 10 a.m.,” he said, looking down at his menu.
“So? Afraid it’ll ruin that perfect body of yours?” I teased.
His head tipped back slowly, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he draped one arm across the back of my chair, his thumb resting provocatively close to my shoulder.
“That’s the third time you’ve mentioned my body, Trouble,” he said. “I’m starting to think you’ve got an obsession.”
His tone was cocky, but his eyes softened, like he liked the idea of me wanting him. Like it made him weak in ways he’d never admit.
The soft click of the jukebox cut through the chatter in thediner. “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac began to play, and I let my gaze drift over to Max. His knee bounced under the table, jittery, fingers toying with the napkin holder. He was nervous.
A slow, wicked sort of confidence unfurled inside me, settling in like I’d just been handed the next move in the chess match.
“Maybe, I do.” I bit my bottom lip between my teeth, my eyes dragging over his shoulders and the veins in his forearm. “Or maybe, I just haven’t decided what I want to do with you yet.”
The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I didn’t even realize how breathless I sounded until the words came out. The thrill hit me low in my stomach. I’d never flirted like this with anyone.
