I take in a deep inhale, my lungs filling with the air in this house that always holds a little bit of his scent.
I don't mean to. My body just does it.
Zero takes another unbothered sip of Bane's beer and watches me like he’s trying to diagnose me.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. You've lost it."
I think I have. I step into the foyer anyways.
Max is on the stairs.
Charcoal suit. White shirt, top button open and I can see the hollow where his collarbones meet. The tie I chose is in his hand. He's hesitating on the third stair and I realize he probably doesn’t know how to tie the tie.
He looks up.
He sees me.
His mouth parts on a soft smile and my heart lurches in my chest. He looks so fucking handsome it almost hurts.
His scent reaches me a second later. Vanilla. Honey. Something darker tonight—warm, like sugar at the edge of burning. The bond between his sternum and mine flares.
Mine.
The thought lands the way it always lands. Hard. Possessive. Total.
All fucking consuming.
"Hi," he says, on the stairs.
"Hi."
"I—I can't do the tie."
"Come here."
He comes. Three more stairs. He stops on the bottom one so we're roughly the same height, which puts his face a hand-span from mine, which is, possibly, deliberate. He looks at me through his lashes and lifts the tie like an offering.
"I tried."
"I know."
"I YouTubed it. Twice."
"Mm."
I take the tie out of his hand. Flip up his collar with two fingers. Feed the silk underneath. Start to knot it. Slow.
He's watching my hands.
He's watching my mouth.
He's not breathing.
The tie goes into a half-Windsor that'll hold all night. I run my thumb over the dimple to set it. My knuckles brush his throat and his pulse jumps under my skin.
Christ.
"There."
