Page 117 of Maximus

“Did you ask them about switching rooms?” I asked in an effort to keep my dick under control.

“Liam was excited to have his own room. Elijah not so much. They’ve always shared, so I think Eli’s just nervous.”

“Then they’ll share for a while. Liam won’t mind.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I just hate that Liam always has to sacrifice for his brother.”

“Come here, Eva.”

I pulled back the comforter and waited for her to climb in next to me before I dropped the covers and settled her on my chest.

“I was just thinking the same thing earlier when I was watchin’ TV with the boys. I’m torn because I want him to just be a worry-free kid. But he does worry, he wants to take care of his mom and brother. Which I have to tell you makes me proud. Maybe one day, that will change and he’ll turn into a self-centered teenager.” I gave her a soft squeeze. “But for now, I think you have to let Liam be who he is—a really great kid who’s already showing signs of growing up to be a great man. We’ll keep an eye on him and if need be, step in.”

“I agree. I think once their stuff gets here and Elijah gets a little more comfortable, he’ll want his own space.”

Now that the topic of the boys getting their own rooms was settled, it was time to move on to something that we needed to hash out.

“We need to talk about you sleeping here in bed with me and not sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

Every night, we started in this bed, but after we’d made love, she’d leave and I’d sleep alone. Not only did I hate her not being with me, I was worried about why she was doing it.

“Just a few more weeks.”

“Explain to me why you leave.”

Jesus, could I sound anymore pussy?

“I just think it’s the right thing to do. This is moving really fast, Max. Like at warp-speed. I mean, we’re already living together but I don’t want the boys to see me sleeping in here with you—not yet. I think they need more time to adjust.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

Fuck, now I sounded like a desperate pussy.

“What? No. Of course not.” Eva picked her head up off my chest, her yellowish-green eyes full of concern. “Are you?”

“Fuck, no. Why do you stop yourself before you tell me you love me?”

Yep, I just threw that right out there.

Smooth, asshole, real smooth.

“Wha’?” Her question was more a swoosh of oxygen on an exhale.

“You start to say it, but then you stop.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can see it. Hell, Eva, I can feel it. You get ready to say it and my heart starts thundering in my chest preparing to finally hear what I’ve been waiting for, then you close down.”

“You want to hear it?”

“Jesus, woman, what do you think we’re doing here? I’m not playin’ house, passin’ time, twiddling my thumbs. I want this—not for a while—forever. Of course I want to know if you love me.”

“Well, you haven’t said it. Do you love me?”

“Hell, yes, I love you.”

I seriously needed to work on my delivery.