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I bite my lip to stop my sniggers.
“How about we share? You can choose which hole you want to fill?” Max offers, rubbing his cheek along mine as he hooks his face over my shoulder.
Nate facepalms Max and shoves him backwards off the edge of the bed.
“Don’t remember inviting you,” Nate announces, then hooks his arm around my waist and tugs me firmly into his body. “You can wait outside and beg her for your turn once I’m done.”
“Honeybee, you need to sweet talk the bear into letting me join next time. Tell him I can be real good and follow instructions,” Max suggests.
I glance over my shoulder at him and giggle at his pouty face as he walks backwards to Nate’s door. His tanned, toned body snags my attention, and my gaze trails down to the underwear straining tight over his hard length.
My mouth falls open, ready to try to talk Nate around, but he tugs my chin back to him and hungrily thrusts his tongue in. All thoughts and protests fizzle out as Nate sweeps me away with his possessive, claiming kiss.
FIFTY-SIX
MAX
“Do you have a weird mug addiction we need to be aware of, honeybee?” I ask as she hands me another, which I carefully wrap in paper and place in the box.
As we’re only taking this all next door, we aren’t bubble-wrapping everything. Although I’m starting to doubt we’ll have the space at this rate. Seeing as she’s handed me six mugs so far, and there’s still more in the cupboard.
It’s hard to protest too much. Every time Rosy reaches up, the cute pink denim shirt she has on rises to show her jean-clad ass. Maybe I have a denim kink. Or just a Rosy one. Can you have a kink for a specific person?
“No.” She snorts. “I mean, I love them, but some of them have a sentimental attachment. Like this one. It was Nanna’s favourite. She drank her morning coffee from it every day for years,” she says, holding up a bright yellow mug with a protruding nose and a winky face printed on it.
It’s ugly as fuck, but she stares at it with a soft, warm smile.
I swallow hard as she hands it to me, hoping I don’t suddenly fumble and drop it. These are her memories, the things that are important and made her who she is. I can’t break that.
“Oh, and this one! Nanna said it was Mum’s,” Rosy says, as she stares down wistfully at the delicate, floral mug cupped in both hands.
Her fingers stroke over it, and suddenly it’s harder to inhale, my chest too tight as I watch her get lost for a moment. There’s a weird feeling building in me that wants to wrap her up, protect all her memories for her, then help her build so many new ones that she’s overflowing with smiles and happiness.
When she hands it over to me, I cradle it securely and triple the wrapping to ensure its safety. “The mugs are important. Got it.” I nod, and we continue to pack up the kitchen space.
It doesn’t take too long, and we only fill a couple of boxes. The rest of the belongings are Steph’s for her to pack up and take. When I lean down to pick up one of the boxes, Rosy does the same to the other.
“No, honeybee. I got these. You make a start in your room.”
She pauses, her hands hovering over the box as she looks up at me. “Are you sure?”
“Got to keep you interested in me somehow, so I can’t have you taking away the chance to impress you with my strength,” I tease, offering her one of my wide smiles that I know distracts her, and I love it. Fuck, I love her attention. It somehow manages to boost my ego but also makes me feel safe and secure.
When her eyes land on my mouth, I beam even wider.
“Um, okay. Can you bring the sports bags Nate left out for me, please?”
I promise her I will as I heft the boxes out, making sure I go slowly to not risk dropping them as I go.
The smile resurfaces when I enter back through Rosy’s apartment, the empty bags she’d asked for in one hand. I follow the noise coming from her room. I don’t step in. Instead, I prop myself against the doorframe, arms crossing over my chest. I take in the sight of Rosy with her eyes closed, twirling around to the music playing from her phone’s speaker.
My head tilts, lightly thudding against the timber frame as my heart warms whilst I watch her for a minute. Until her eyes open and widen, then her pretty cheeks flush a bright pink.
“Sorry,” she says and reaches for her phone.
Before Rosy can turn it off, I step to her and tug her hand onto my chest, then slide mine along the small of her back, holding her to me.
“What?”