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Max shrugs, pointing to the bag of crackers. “Anyway, I was just being self-absorbed. I thought my chances of Grams chasing me out of the house with a broomstick would be lower if I brought her favorite crackers.”
“I love it when you’re being self-absorbed.”
“You’re mine, Emilia. Get used to me being around all the time.”
Mine. The word rolls back and forth in my mind, goose bumps rising on my skin. I like the sound of it. It makes me feel safe and hot and bothered at the same time. I never thought the two feelings could coexist. But if there is a man on this planet who can achieve the impossible, I have full confidence it’s Max. Almost instinctively, I lean against him, resting my head on his chest, close to the crook of his neck.
***
Max
“Don’t you want me to move you somewhere more comfortable?” I ask her.
“Nah, moving makes me want to throw up.”
Damn, hadn’t thought of that. But there must be something I can do to make her feel better. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Emilia grunts, but nods. “Just don’t forget that I can’t move too much.”
Carefully, I prop her up on her ass, and that’s when I see the traces of vomit on the front of her shirt. She tries to cover them with her hands, offering me a mortified smile.
I remove her clothes one by one, and there is nothing sexual about this moment. We’re quiet as I wash her, rinsing her skin and her hair. Afterward, I intend to carry her to the bedroom, but no sooner do I lift her in my arms that she says, “Oh no. Put me down, quick.”
She makes it to the toilet in the nick of time. I hold her hair back while she throws up.
“I’ll sleep here.”
“Won’t Grams need the bathroom over the night?”
“Nah, she sleeps like a rock until morning. I’ll stay here. It doesn’t make sense to leave. You can sleep in my bedroom,” she tells me after rinsing her mouth over the sink while I hold her.
“Stayin’ right here, sweetheart.” I lie down on the floor, patting my chest, indicating for her to place her head there.
“I don’t know if I should. What if I throw up on your shirt?”
In a stroke of genius, I remove my shirt. “Problem solved. Clever tactic to get me to strip, Jonesie.”
She chuckles, leaning next to me, perching one leg over me and resting her head on my chest. My dick twitches when I feel one of her boobs against the side of my torso. Forget it, Bennett. You’re not getting laid tonight.
“Thank you for staying here with me,” she says softly.
“Hey, I’m spending the night with a beautiful, naked woman in my arms. Couldn’t get any better.”
Well, it could. The floor is damn hard, but my woman finally seems comfortable, so I’m not moving even if my back will kill me tomorrow. Emilia traces some lines on my abs with her fingers, which further endangers the situation below the belt. Damn it.
“Why do you have to be so perfect?” she murmurs. “I have to get you to drink lots of beer.”
“You want me to have a beer belly?” I ask in confusion.
“Yeah. We must do something about your pretty face too. Make you uglier. Or maybe cover it up with a thick beard.”
“Why?”
“So no one can steal you from me,” she whispers, hiding her face from me. I barely stop myself from kissing her senseless to show her how much she means to me.
“No one will, Emilia. I want to be happy, and lately that means making you happy.”
Chapter Twenty
