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“Yeah,” Abby says. “His Royal Highness seems eager enough.” Abby has a slightly unhealthy obsession with royal families and uses that moniker for men who pass her gorgeousness test.
“That’s between His Maximum Hotness and me,” I volley back, surprising both of them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Evelyn asks. I told them about the kiss on Saturday.
“I have no idea,” I admit with a sigh. “But the moniker fits him. He’s just… he makes me feel so many things at the same time. Too many.”
“That’s a good thing,” Evelyn insists. “Don’t be afraid to feel, Emilia.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I’m not. What I’m afraid of is losing him. My friendship with Max was always my happy place as a kid, and it is now too. Risking all that to calm down my hormones feels wrong.”
Evelyn and Abby exchange a glance, which tells me they’ve spoken about this at length. When they don’t say anything in return, I have the slight suspicion they might be up to something. Just as I’m about to question them, my phone buzzes with a message from Max.
Max: Random thought—coffee tastes better with cinnamon. Had it today for the first time. You should try it sometime too. How are you?
I love it when he sends me messages about little nothings. Even as kids, we used to meet up after school to tell each other about our day.
Emilia: Great. Managed to get some side gigs to pay off the car repairs.
Max: What? You’re already working full-time… I want to help.
Emilia: You can make me laugh. Helps me let off steam.
The moment I send the message, I know it was a wrong choice of words.
Max: Consider it done. Love hearing you laugh. BUT, and I’m just putting it out there, I know much better ways to let off steam.
Looking up from my phone, I find Abby and Evelyn staring at me. Giving them an enigmatic smile, I head inside the clinic.
***
Over the last sessions of his therapy, the chemistry between Max and me gradually gets out of control.
“What are we doing today?” Max asks at the start of the very last session. Today it’s just him and me in the training room.
“Mattress exercises,” I inform him, pointing to the mattress on the floor.
“Great. They’re my favorite kind.”
“Really?” I frown at him as he lowers himself on the mattress. He hasn’t shown much enthusiasm for any exercises until now. “Which ones are your favorites?”
“All of them. Doggy style, missionary, you name it. Which one is your favorite, Jonesie?”
My ears turn red, and I immediately avert my gaze. “You are shameless.”
“I’m being told that at least twice a day.” He says this with so much pride, it’s ridiculous.
Sighing, I shake my head. “Let’s start with leg bends. I will watch you and correct you when you’re doing it wrong.”
He pins me down with his gaze for a brief second, igniting every cell in my body. Determined not to back down, I stubbornly hold his gaze, even though my breath becomes shallower by the second. Eventually, he lies on his back and starts the exercise.
“No, no,” I correct. “You can’t push your lower back against the mattress.” I wedge my hand between the mattress and his lower back. “Your back is not allowed to touch my hand.”
As Max resumes the exercise, I can’t keep my wandering eyes from taking in the movement of his sinewy muscles. Damn it. I have officially upgraded from ogling to eye fucking him.
“You’re going to strain your eye muscles from over exercising them, Jonesie.”
Busted.
