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“That’s the one. Well, we didn’t use our likeness just for pranks, we also exchanged tasks from time to time. Christopher is an excellent cook.”
“What tasks did you do for him?” I ask suspiciously, turning the pancake in the pan.
“Mainly outdoors stuff. Cutting wood, mowing the grass.” A short pause follows and then he adds, “Kissing his girl.”
I gasp. “You didn’t.”
“I was actually trying to help him, at his request.”
“And somehow your lips landed on hers? They have a will of their own?”
“Something like that,” Max says with a self-satisfied smirk. “He was preparing some crazy romantic scheme, and he wanted it to be a surprise, so he asked me to pretend to be him with his girl for about an hour while he got everything ready.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“We were sixteen. It seemed flawless logic back then. At some point, the girl kissed me, and well, I was a horny sixteen-year-old. How could I resist kissing her back?”
He says this with such honesty that I can’t help chuckling. “I imagine that went over very well with Christopher. Did he punch your sorry ass?”
“You could say that. It was the longest period we went without talking. Then we beat the shit out of each other and made up.”
“Men.” I shake my head, removing the perfectly cooked pancake, putting it on a plate, and starting with the next one. This is my favorite breakfast. “Why do you always have to solve things by fighting?”
“We’re basic creatures. I think it’s the fastest way to get the anger out of our systems.”
“I see. Any other secrets you want to share?”
Max folds his arms over his broad, strong chest. “Nah, I think it’s enough for today. Wouldn’t want to scare you off.”
“So first you got me in your bed, and now you’re sharing the ugly stuff? You’re smart.”
He hooks one arm around my waist from behind, flattening my back against his chest, and I wiggle my ass straight against his crotch.
“You’re a little devil,” he whispers in my ear, raising goose bumps along my arms.
“I have my moments,” I reply boldly.
Chapter Sixteen
Emilia
After breakfast, Max gives me the official tour of his apartment. I catalog everything in my mind, eager to discover more about him. Ironically, I already know more about Max than I
did about any man I dated, including my fiancé. But most of my knowledge is about Max the boy. Now, in his apartment, I’m getting a snapshot of Max the man.
We’re back in the living room, and I’m scanning it for a second time, when my eyes fall on a guitar case lying on top of a cabinet.
“You play guitar?” I ask in delight.
He follows my gaze to the case and grins. “Yep. Just one of my many hidden talents.”
“What are some of the others?” I challenge, enjoying the easygoing banter. I feared things might shift into the weird territory after doing the nasty, but so far, I love this.
“Out of this world orgasms,” he says confidently.
“Never thought it would be possible for you to get even cockier.” I head over to the cabinet and, standing on my tiptoes, I blindly reach out for the case, with the intention of pulling it down. Max rushes next to me in an instant.
“Careful, it’s heavy,” he warns, and pulls it down himself.
