Chapter 14
LILY
Logan’s room is the exact opposite of Max’s. Generic, with washed-out sheets on the bed and the smell of cold smoke lingering in the air. The walls are empty, and the only openly displayed personal item is a pair of dumbbells next to the couch.
The longer I let my gaze wander through the room, the more seemingly out-of-place items catch my eye.
A sweater with the name Vaughn printed on it hangs over an uncomfortable-looking office chair, a glow stick bracelet peeks out from under the couch, and a half-empty bag of Max’s favorite sweets lies on top of a concerning collection of knives on the nightstand.
I make my bed, and when Max and Logan come back after what feels like an hour, I act as if I’m asleep.
They go to the bathroom one after the other without exchanging a single word.
It’s a loaded silence, not one out of consideration as not to wake me up.
Loud in a way that makes no physical sense, and once everyone is settled, I still struggle to fall asleep.
The next morning, I wake up to the feeling of eyes on me. The offender is sitting at a small table, staring at me while he cleans a disassembled pistol. I close my eyes again and only open them once I’m facing the other way, where my gaze lands on a splayed-out Max.
His shirt has hitched up, exposing a dark blond happy trail, but before I can continue to mentally remove the rest of his clothes, Logan clears his throat.
“Wasn’t done looking at you yet, sweetheart.”
Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I turn back around. Logan grins, sharklike, as he lubricates his gun before reassembling it.
The way he’s handling the pieces feels weirdly sensual, and I don’t know enough about guns to tell if it’s supposed to look like this or if he’s doing it to make me nervous. If it’s the latter, it’s working.
“Ah,” Max says with a tired voice, glancing over at Logan. “Magic Mike: Gun Edition.”
That probably answers my question.
“Wanna lick them clean, sunshine?” Logan asks, wriggling his fingers.
Behind me, the mattress dips, and Max buries his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a satisfied groan before he answers Logan.
“I’ll pass. The last time we did that really fucked up my stomach, and Dr. Russo’s not gonna believe my dumb explanation a second time,” Max says with a chuckle.
“Slept well?” he whispers in my ear, and I nod.
“Did you know Russo’s with the weirdos from the third floor now?” Logan racks his gun, inspecting it one last time before he tucks it in his drop leg holster. “Task force Spirit Halloween. One day, Sam’s going to ask for a transfer.”
“He would fit in,” Max says, hands sneakily vanishing under my shirt. “You do have to admit they look intimidating, all geared up.”
“They only look intimidating when they’re all geared up, and solely because you are embarrassingly easy to impress.”
“Oh, someone’s jealous.” A grin tugs at Max’s lips, and it’s contagious. “Don’t worry, Logan, you’re still the scariest guy on base, I promise.”
Max grabs me and turns us around so that I’m straddling his lap. He’s hard, his cock straining the fabric of his boxers, pressing directly against my clit—all while he keeps on talking to Logan like this is an absolutely normal way to start the day.
“The rookies are whispering about your collection again.”
Logan lets out an amused huff. “Gullible kids.”
“I’ll regret asking about it, right?”
Max squeezes my thigh, a mischievous smile dancing over his lips when I look at him.
“It’s not really a collection,” Logan reasons. “I just like to take things off. Or out. And sometimes, seldom, I take a little souvenir with me. No wet stuff, though. Too hard to preserve.”
“You’re scaring her.” Max laughs, his hips moving with every chuckle. “He’s just messing with you, baby.”
“Am I?” Logan asks, cocking his head to the side.
He gets up from his chair, his fingers tangling in my hair once he reaches the mattress. He grabs a fistful, not hard enough to hurt but determined enough to make shivers run down my spine. Slowly, he pulls until I have to tilt my head back.
“Can’t help myself, you look too fucking hot when you’re scared,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine.
He lets go of my hair, leaning closer until his breath fans over my neck with every word he speaks.
“I know it turns you on,” he whispers. “To imagine all the things I could do to you.” He grabs my hips, forcing me to grind over Max’s cock. “The things you’d let me do to you. I’ll have you begging for stuff you’re ashamed to even think about, sweetheart.”
Max meets my gaze with eyes full of lust, his hand snaking to the back of my head before he pulls me down and his lips land on mine.
His cock throbs against me when my tongue darts out to lick over his bottom lip, and I am so lost in the feeling I barely hear the disapproving tsk coming from behind me.
“Enough dry humping for one morning,” Logan says, and Max presses his hips against me one last time before he lifts me off of his lap.
“Killjoy,” he grumbles, but Logan ignores him.
“Talley got new recruits.” Logan puts his foot on the armrest of the couch, tightening his shoelaces.
“I’ll help with basic training until we’re getting interesting jobs again.
If things don’t change soon, I’m gonna talk to Cantrell.
I’m fucking tired of the bottom of the barrel shit we’ve been getting recently. ”
Max looks over at the clock, immediately jumping up from the bed. “Fuck,” he says, searching for his clothes. “My meeting with Joyce starts in ten minutes.”
“Why are you talking to her?” Logan asks the moment the name Joyce leaves Max’s mouth, his voice carrying a weird undertone.
“Because of my contract,” Max answers, and all of a sudden, the uncomfortable tension from last night is back as if it was never gone. “And I promised Hewitt and Osorio to prepare our monthly demolition disposal training, so I won’t be back until the afternoon.”
The last part was directed at me, and Max strokes over my cheek while he gives me an apologetic look. “So beautiful,” he whispers, smiling when I look up at him. “God, I wish I could take you with me, baby.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Logan says, putting on his jacket.
“I know, I know,” Max mumbles, searching his pockets for something. “Charlie is doing his grocery run today, and if you want to, you can go with him.”
When Max finally finds what he has been looking for, he pulls a credit card out of his wallet and forces it into my hand. “Buy whatever you want.”
“Do you really think Hunter’s able to keep her safe?” Logan asks, and the idea of him being worried about my safety causes a fluttering feeling in my stomach before I can argue with Max about the whole credit card thing.
“It’s a Costco, Logan, not an active warzone,” Max groans. “Who’s gonna attack them? The lady handing out samples?”
Logan shakes his head, turning my way. “If someone follows you or tries to grab you, you go straight for a throat punch.”
“Throat punch, got it,” I reply, and he gives me a pat on the shoulder as he walks past me.
I am too scared to admit I don’t know how you throat-punch someone. My self-defense knowledge is barely enough to calm down a first-grader during a meltdown. One of the smaller first-graders.
“Ah, shit, the phone,” Max mumbles to himself once Logan leaves the room, walking over to Logan’s bedside table.
“We got some evidence from your house yesterday. Your phone was completely ruined, and Logan and I decided it would be safer to get you a new SIM altogether.” He opens the top drawer, pulling out something. “So I got one of my old phones ready for you.”
He hands me the old phone that’s still at least three generations newer than mine had been, and I don’t know what to say.
One look at the clock and three hissed ‘fuck’s’ later, Max gives me a rushed kiss on my forehead.
“The WiFi’s connected. You’ve got mine, Logan’s, Charlie’s, and Sam’s number in case you need anything,” he says, already halfway out of the door.
“Thank you,” I yell after him while I stand in the middle of the room, a little overwhelmed, phone in one hand and credit card in the other.
I’m elbow-deep in a bag of chips and four episodes into the last season of Unsolved Mysteries when Max stumbles through the door. The hallway lights are on, and I must have been so focused on my show I completely lost track of time.
The smell following Max into the room is a mix of gunpowder, his cologne, and a hint of burnt hair. Gleaming at me, he starts to undress before the door even falls into the lock.
“Had a nice day, baby?”
“Mhm,” I mumble, trying to let the chips disappear as subtly as possible. I don’t know if Max meant ‘buy the entire snack aisle’ when he handed me his credit card. “What about you?”
“Would have been a better day with you by my side,” he says, winking at me before he pulls his shirt off. “Was Charlie nice to you, or do I have to slap him?”
“No need for physical violence,” I say while I fight to keep my eyes trained on Max’s face. “He was great. Tried every sample first to make sure no one was attempting to poison me.”
For the entire drive to the supermarket, Charlie and I were stuck in the awkward small talk stage. It got better once we got to the actual shopping part, and after an hour in the garden section, we found out we have quite a lot in common.
“Logan’s gonna be relieved to hear this.” Max laughs while he bows down a little to get out of his pants, and now I have the perfect excuse to let my gaze wander. “Want to shower with me?”
Max picks his shirt up from the floor and throws it over to me. It smells so good I have a hard time resisting the urge to shove it in my face and inhale his scent until I pass out.
“You’ve got the bathroom all to yourself, I showered earlier.”
“A pity,” Max says, shaking his head. “I’ll make it quick then.”