Chapter Twenty-Two
Sweet Patience
Juliet
“ T HIS IS WHAT you want to do?” Maximo asked, his lips tipped at one side as he looked at me.
Clutching the candy I’d pilfered from Freddy’s stash, I nodded.
When I’d researched ideas for our day together, most of the things listed were geared toward tourists, partying, or were super expensive—or all three.
Going to a movie was the best option, but it seemed stupid when Maximo had a media room with recliners, a big projector screen, and a popcorn maker.
Not to mention, I got the feeling he rarely hung out and did a whole lot of nothing.
Before I’d come there, I hadn’t either. I’d always had more chores and errands than one person could do in a day.
A year of being a homebody—by force and then by choice—had taught me how needed the occasional chill-day was.
“Phase one,” I said. “Well, I guess this turned into phase three.”
Phase one had been Maximo waking me with his mouth. He must’ve been at it for a while because by the time I woke, I was already on the edge. After I came, he’d carried me into the shower where he’d taken his time washing my body and hair before making me come again—that time with his fingers.
Phase two had been breakfast in bed where Maximo had listened to my hem frustrations. I’d listened while he’d told me about the boxer who’d dropped out of a fight with less than two weeks’ notice because he thought he deserved more money. Neither Maximo nor his fight coordinator agreed.
Once we were done with breakfast, Maximo had thrown on a tee and his gray joggers, and I’d…
Well, I’d drooled everywhere.
But once I’d found my brain again, I’d thrown on the non-janky sleep shorts I’d made and the store-bought ripped crop. Then, much to his confusion and amusement, I’d dragged Maximo to the media room.
Grabbing the remotes as he moved, he went to the front and center recliner. I didn’t try to sit in a different one. I dumped my bundle of goodies on the little table next to us before landing on his lap. I knew it was the right move when his arms circled me, hauling me closer.
He turned on the TV, clicked a bunch of buttons to load a list of movies, and handed me the remote. “Pick whatever you want.”
Ultimate power.
I flipped through before landing on Thor .
Action movies weren’t usually my preferred genre, but a Hemsworth made a girl do crazy things.
“Have you seen any of the Marvel movies?” he asked.
“Bits and pieces on TV but never all of one.”
“Then we can’t start here.”
“What? Why?”
“Cinematic universes are made to be watched in order.” He grabbed the remote and returned to the Cs. “We have to start at Captain America .”
A Hemsworth may make a girl do crazy things, but Chris Evans made them do batshit crazy things while he cheered them on and encouraged their individuality.
“Have you seen these?” I asked while it loaded.
“A few.”
“Probably hard to binge a whole series of movies when you never take a day off,” I teased.
As if I’d sent a message to the universe, his phone rang.
Me and my big mouth.
“Shit, I’ve got to get this.” His expression was soft and apologetic as he hit pause.
“Hey, I’m the one who jinxed it.”
I moved to get up, but he held me in place as he took his phone out of his pocket.
“Yeah?” Whoever it was talked for a moment before Maximo bit out a harsh laugh.
“That was the point.” He was silent a beat.
“Miles on it? Good. Get his picture around. I don’t want their asses on my property, or it’ll be worse. Yeah. Call if shit goes sideways.”
When he ended the call and set his phone near the snacks, my curiosity got the better of me. “Everything okay?”
“My lawyers served the boxer who bailed with a breach of contract lawsuit. He called to apologize, trying to get back in. It wasn’t going to happen, but we would’ve considered dropping the suit. Unfortunately for him, his manager got on the line and threatened Serrano.”
“He should fire his manager.”
“His manager is his father.”
“That’s a recipe for disaster.”
“Now, because his old man thinks he’s a made man with connections he wants to throw around, no one is going to book him.”
I knew all too well what it was like to be punished for my dad’s big mouth.
Poor guy.
As though he’d read my thoughts, Maximo added, “The prick apple doesn’t fall far from the prick tree. Costa is a prima donna who thinks he’s the Italian Mayweather.”
“Why’d you book him then?”
“Because he may not be Money Mayweather good, but he’s still good.” His smile was cruel and cold. “And now he’ll be lucky to work as an instructor at a kickboxing gym.”
Yikes .
Maximo pressed his lips to my forehead before settling me back against him. He lifted the remote. “Ready?”
“Yup.”
And if it sucks, I’m comfy enough to take a nap.
_______________
Captain America did not suck.
Nor did Captain Marvel .
And definitely not Iron Man .
I enjoyed Chris Evans’ good-guy, super soldier-ness, but I loved RDJ’s snark and cockiness.
Apparently, I had a type.
“Iron Man 2 is next,” Maximo said.
I glanced out the window to see the sun had begun to set.
Pressing the button to sit the chair upright, I stood and shook off the crumbs. “It’s time for phase four.”
Maximo stood, pulling me to him. “And what’s that?”
“Dessert.”
His gaze dropped pointedly to the empty candy boxes stacked on the table before returning to me.
“Those were snacks,” I dismissed. “This is the official dessert.”
“Isn’t dinner supposed to come first?”
“Yeah, but then we might ruin our appetite for dessert.” At his unconvinced expression, I crossed my arms. “Hey, you said I could plan the day. If you want to be a healthy adult with an appropriate diet, do it on your own time.”
He smirked and gestured to the door. “Then by all means.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “First we have to change.”
“Dessert is a formal occasion?”
Glancing over my shoulder to take in his furrowed brows, I laughed. “You’ll see.”
When we got up to our room, I released his hand and went to the armoire.
Opening the drawer that held my swimsuits, I pulled out my favorite.
The dark gray top had thin straps and a wrap-style front.
The bottoms were tiny and white, with a dark gray feather pattern.
I was pretty sure they were supposed to be palm leaves, but they looked more like feathers to me.
“Your idea of dessert is swimming?” Maximo asked.
“Just get changed.”
So neither of us were tempted to jump the other while naked, I closed myself in the bathroom before stripping. I changed and pulled my hair up into a ponytail before opening the door.
I had good intentions with changing in the bathroom but there’d been a vital miscalculation in my plan.
Maximo still looked hot in his black trunks that hung way low on his hips, and I still very much wanted to jump him.
“You keep looking at me like that, Juliet, I’m gonna be ready to eat something even sweeter than dessert.”
Realizing my eyes were aimed at the deep indent of his pelvic muscles, I darted them up to his face.
Oops.
But also not really.
Before I changed my mind and stripped out of my suit, I headed for the door. I didn’t have to check to see if Maximo followed. I could feel him. Feel his eyes on me.
When we got downstairs, I turned to Maximo. “Can you light the fire pit?”
He lifted his chin and headed outside.
I stopped in the kitchen to get the skewers and marshmallows Freddy had stashed for me.
When I got outside, the backyard looked like a small island paradise.
Unseen lights dimly illuminated the path to the glowing blue pool.
A fire burned in the center of the rectangular pit, the reflection of it dancing off the water.
But the most paradise-y part of paradise was Maximo in the hot tub. With his muscular, tattooed arms stretched along the ledge, he almost looked relaxed.
Almost.
But his eyes were too alert. Too watchful.
Too hungry.
The fire flickered to the right of him, casting shadows that played with his angular features.
Devilishly handsome and sinfully wicked.
Phase four is definitely my favorite.
Uh, phase one and then phase four.
Wait, phase two and three were also…
Fine, all the phases are my favorite. I planned a good day.
Maximo’s eyes softened and lit with amusement when he saw my supplies. “Roasting marshmallows is phase four?”
“Technically phase four is just relaxing with the fire.” I put a marshmallow on a skewer and handed it to him. “These are a bonus.”
Getting my own ready, I set the bag down within reach and held Maximo’s offered hand as I stepped into the water. The quiet jets were set low, the foam and bubbles soothing. It was the perfect complement to the fire.
It wasn’t the first time I’d used the hot tub, but it was the first time I was using it at night with the fire pit. It was also the first time I was using it with someone.
Maximo settled me in his lap before putting his marshmallow in the fire.
In it.
Like some kind of monster.
“You’re gonna,” I started before his dessert turned into a torch, “burn it.”
He blew out the flame. “That’s the way I like it.”
And then he ate the charred mess.
Again, like some kind of marshmallow monster.
“You’re crazy.” Positioning mine perfectly to the side, I spun the stick like I was roasting a pig on a spit.
I was careful not to get it too close, unlike the insane person who grabbed another marshmallow, jabbed it onto his stick, and then jammed it into the flame.
Again, he blew out his mini torch and ate it.
I waited until mine was just right before removing it from the heat. Careful not to burn myself, I slid it off and popped it into my mouth. The outside was perfectly browned with a hint of chewiness and the inside was liquid amazingness.
His arm tightened around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder.