Chapter 9
9
Max
“This is not fun. You lied.”
Fleur glared at me. “It would be if you weren’t so grumpy.”
“You’ve dragged me to six stores, we still haven’t found anything and you promised me food two hours ago and haven’t delivered. I ran five miles and strength-trained for an hour today. I’m hungry.”
“After you find a suit,” she sniped.
“I’ve found lots of suits. This one’s nice.” I held up a gray one, my eyes pleading with her to just decide so we could be done.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t send the right message.”
“What message is it supposed to send? It’s a suit. Newsflash, it can’t talk.”
She smirked at me. “You’re wrong about that. If you think clothes don’t speak, then you’re missing the whole point of fashion.”
My head throbbed, my stomach growled and I swore my calf was cramping. I considered myself to be in pretty good shape, but shopping with Fleur was something else entirely. She was like an invading general, marching from shop to shop, dragging me along with her. I wanted a beer, I wanted food and I wanted to sit down.
“What does my outfit say?” she asked.
“Have you been listening at all? No idea.”
“What does my outfit say?” she repeated, hand on her hip, foot tapping against the ground.
Cute and annoying at the same time.
“That you always get your way? That you’re hot?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What part of my outfit says that?”
She was right. I wasn’t describing her outfit; I was describing her.
I sank down onto one of the sofas in the store, something the shop had graciously provided for men luckier than me.
“Take pity on me. I haven’t eaten in hours. Haven’t had water. I don’t know what a pinstripe is, have no preference on double-breasted versus single-breasted. I’ve never worn a suit in my life. Where I’m from, you wear a suit when you go to court, get married, or go to a funeral, and that’s about it. I’m trying here, but I lost my will to live like two hours ago, and I’m sorry, I have no clue what your outfit says other than that it makes every guy who sees you—” including me “—want to take it off.”
She laughed, not one of the laughs she employed like another piece of her armor, but a real laugh, one that had her shoulders shaking.
“Fine. No more shopping. I have a feeling this will be our lucky stop anyway.”
I closed my eyes and offered a silent prayer to the heavens. “Thank you.”
She laughed and the sound skipped through me, leaving a trail of want in its wake. It was a feeling I’d been fighting all day. I’d never really hung out with Fleur one-on-one without distractions, but she had a quick sense of humor and she was fun to be around.
“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a gray jacket.
I shrugged. “That one’s nice.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the jacket again and back at me. “I think you might need something with a little more presence. A classic black suit gives a more powerful image. You want to walk into the interview like you own it.”
She put the jacket back on the rack.
“Since you don’t care about single-breasted versus double-breasted, I’m just going to go with single-breasted.” She flashed me a blinding smile. “I want you to look like this suit was made for you.”
I shook my head, fascinated by the intensity with which she approached shopping.
“Why do you care so much?” I asked, my tone more curious than anything else.
“Because it’s important. You said you need this job, right?”
I nodded.
“So I’m helping. It’s not a big deal. Shopping isn’t exactly a hardship.”
Maybe she didn’t mind the shopping, but it was a big deal. It was nice of her to help me out. Maggie had always said Fleur was loyal, but I hadn’t believed her until now. I got it. Fleur was loyal, and the fact that she somehow counted me in her list of people to take care of was surprising.
“I’ll take you to dinner after to make up for the torture,” she promised. “You can even pick the restaurant.”
I shook my head. “Only if you’ll let me pay. Seriously. You’re doing me a huge favor here, and even though I’m giving you a hard time, I really appreciate it.”
“It’s a deal. Are you ready?”
I forced myself to smile. “Let’s try on some suits.”
Fleur
I shifted the suits to my other arm, the heavy fabric weighing me down, the long trouser legs dragging on the floor slightly. If we were in a fancier store, a normal store, there would be someone to do this for me. I knew I was being a snob, and I wasn’t trying to be, it was just hard when we had such different views of normal. We came from totally different worlds, and while I’d grown somewhat used to that with Maggie, it was different when it was a guy. There was ego involved, and male pride and a whole lot of things that made it a tricky situation to navigate. I’d compromised by going to the high street to save his budget, with the caveat that I chose the stores. So far the selection hadn’t been bad.
I’d promised Max this was the last stop, but I hadn’t put a limit on the number of suits I wanted him to try on. He was in the dressing room with number six now.
Part of the problem was his budget, the other his size. Most of the stores we’d gone to carried suits cut for European builds, not bulk. With his short time frame, custom-made wasn’t really an option, especially when he couldn’t afford it. And off-the-rack was turning into a challenge.
Luckily, I’d never found a fashion challenge I couldn’t overcome.
I headed back toward the dressing room, three more suits in hand. He’d found a nice dress shirt that worked, so that was one problem down. Shoes and suit remained. Somehow, I was guessing he had big feet.
I rapped on the door. “I found a few more.”
Muffled sounds and thumps came from the other side.
“We’ve been here an hour,” he grumbled.
I bit back a smile. He was back to being surly. It was kind of cute on him. Most guys would be complaining a hell of a lot more than he was after being dragged all over London shopping. And his complaining was funny, although I’d never admit it.
“Just a few more,” I cajoled. “Can I come in?”
I didn’t wait for a response. I turned the knob, opening the dressing room door, and I froze.
Holy fuck.
Max stood in front of me in one of the suit trousers I’d picked, white dress shirt unbuttoned, trousers open enough to see a hint of the top of his black boxer briefs, giving me one hell of a show.
Gah.
Neither of us spoke.
I stared at that exposed patch of skin—tan, smooth, muscular—and warmth began to seep into me. I didn’t think, I just moved. I walked the rest of the way into the dressing room and closed the door behind me, locking it with a click.
I dumped the suits on the chair in the corner of the room and then my arms were around his neck, my lips on his, and his hands cupped my ass as he pulled me up against him—hard—and I lost myself to pleasure.
Max
She kissed me like she had to kiss me, like she was made to kiss me. She kissed me like she wanted to take, and I gave her everything.
French spilled from her lips in a rapid tumble I couldn’t even begin to decipher, and my heart turned over in my chest.
Her mouth pressed against mine, her tongue grazing me before I opened and tasted her heady and sweet flavor, our tongues tangling, bodies plastered against each other. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her breasts rubbed against my chest, her hands traveling to the front of my shirt. She pushed aside the fabric, her palms flat against my skin. I was so hard already, but the second her hands touched my abs, just above my hips, my cock jerked.
She stroked my skin, exploring my chest until her hands drifted lower and lower, pushing the shirt off my shoulders with an impatience I easily matched.
My hands came up from the curve of her ass to the small of her back, reaching under her top to stroke at the smooth skin hidden under her clothes. I didn’t care that we were in a dressing room, didn’t care that she was Fleur, that she would likely crush my heart under the heel of one of her thirty pairs of shoes.
I wanted her. Fuck the rest of it.
Her hands moved up from my abs, tracing the planes of my naked chest, reaching higher to stroke the muscles on my shoulders and back. Someone moaned, the sound lost between our mouths. I wasn’t sure who it was, wasn’t sure where she ended and I began. My hands roamed higher, teasing her back, my fingertips grazing the lace around the strap of her bra, higher still until I held the back of her neck, stroking and teasing a shiver out of her.
She responded by pulling me even closer. Her legs threaded with mine, her lower body pushing against me in an unspoken demand for what she wanted and what I was determined to have.
Fleur
Best kiss ever.
I wanted Max. Bad. I had to have Max.
Done.
Max maneuvered me up against the dressing room wall, his hands reaching down to grip my hips. He lifted me up, cupping my ass, squeezing, stroking. I wrapped my legs around his waist, rocking against his body, his hard length bringing a shiver out. Some infrequently used, rational part of my brain knew this was taking things a little too far—we were in public, in a dressing room—but a bigger part of me didn’t really care.
He held me up with one arm, my body levered between his and the wall, the other gliding up, over my clothes, until he palmed my breast, his fingers stroking my nipple through the thin fabric.
Mon dieu.
My head lolled back, hitting the wall with a thud that sent a crack of pain through me.
Max froze. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I mumbled, desperate for his lips on me again.
He fumbled with the hem of my top, his hands moving to my front, his fingers teasing my body, searching for skin. They slid under the fabric, palming my stomach, up, up, until his hands reached my cleavage. He pulled back, and all I could do was stare into his beautiful green eyes, stunned by the look reflected at me.
Heat flooded me, and without thinking, I moved closer to his body, craving it.
This was what had been missing before, this look, this feeling blazing through my body. I’d once told Maggie I wanted a spark; Max gave me a forest fire.
The sound of a salesperson talking to a customer filled the space around us, and then footsteps tapped against the wood dressing room floor, getting closer, closer...
Max groaned. “We gotta stop.”
He was right, and yet it was the last thing I wanted.
He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. He moved forward, his forehead coming to rest against mine.
“As much as having sex with you right here, right now would be hotter than any fantasy I’ve ever had...” His lips quirked as his eyes fluttered open. “Well, besides that dream last night. We gotta stop.”
I nodded, breathless as he released me, gently setting me down on my feet. I tilted my head up to meet his gaze. I liked that he was taller than me. Liked that he was so strong that I felt delicate in his arms.
I didn’t get to feel delicate or sweet very often. It wasn’t something I wanted to take on permanently, but it did feel good to try it on occasionally. It felt good to be delicate with Max.
“You okay?”
I nodded again.
He reached out between us, capturing my hand and lacing his fingers with mine. Something thudded in my heart. There was something so innocent about holding hands after that kiss, and fuck me , I liked that, too.
“Rain check?” he whispered, that dimple flashing back at me.
I beamed back at him. “Absolutely.”