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“And your t-shirt is probably the same size as the ones I bought at stupid, overpriced festivals and concerts when I was a teenager.”
He released my chin and grabbed the hem of his shirt then pulled it over his head. He slung it over my shoulder and took the fork from me with a look that said he wasn’t falling for my woe-is-me, I’m-a-little-too-chubby-for-this-to-be-cute routine.
That was weirdly refreshing.
Still, I huffed and stepped out of the goat’s area so no poop ended up on his t-shirt, and glanced back. “Don’t look.”
“Because I’ve never seen it before.”
“Shut up!”
Max laughed, and I slipped the sleeves of my dress down over my arms and pushed the fabric down to my waist, then pulled his t-shirt on. As soon as I put my arms through, it fell down my body, and I quickly shimmied my dress down my legs where it pooled on the floor at my feet.
His t-shirt was looser than I’d expected and not quite as long. It barely covered my bum, just skimming the top of my thighs, and I glanced down at my legs.
“Well, I hope nobody sees me in this or I might flash them.”
Max turned around and looked pointedly at my legs. “Don’t bend over, or you definitely will.”
“Why does it feel like you’re hinting for me to do that?”
He held up a hand in defeat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I sighed, leaning back against the wall of stacked hay. This was a lot more leg than I usually showed, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable. “I should go back and change. And put this dress in the washing machine.”
“Let me finish this and I’ll walk you back.”
“No. This isn’t really… a dress,” I said, tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt self-consciously.
Like I was showing a lot of leg. Alot. And I did have a lot of leg to show.
Max leant the fork against the wall and stepped away from the goat pen. He was gloriously shirtless, and despite my mild discomfort in this t-shirt, I couldn’t help but run my gaze over his body.
I swallowed.
The man was something else.
Without missing a beat, he laid his hands on my cheeks, cupping my face, and lowered his lips to mine. I felt the softness of his kiss in every fibre of my being. The hair on my arms stood up as goosebumps danced down them, and leaning into him was almost instinctive, something so natural that I barely even realised I was doing it until my toes bumped against his.
“Remember when Winston escaped? You were wearing running gear and told me you were searching for a rabbit under a bush?” he said in a low, soft voice that was just rough enough that heat pooled in my lower belly.
“Not my finest moment,” I murmured in response.
“No,” he agreed, smiling. “Do you remember what I said to you then?”
“You said a lot to me.”
“I said I thought you look great the way you are.”
“I’m impressed you remembered that. Mind you, it was a rare compliment, so perhaps it was easier to remember than a snarky comment.”
His shoulders shook, and if he tried any harder to hold in his laugh, he was going to explode.
At least that was how it felt.
“Well, I was wrong.”
I bit the inside of my lip, shifting as a bit of hay poked out and scraped across the back of my thigh uncomfortably.Spiky.
