Page 54 of Cosa Nostra


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"What?" I mutter to no one, squinting at the ripples where Max just disappeared beneath the surface. My heart hits the back of my throat when something grabs me, and then Max reappears. I'm in his arms now as he powers through the water towards the jetty.

"Max, stop it!"

Once beside the ladder, one big, tattooed arm reaches to grab the railing, bicep contracting as he pulls us both up. Water rushes off us. As soon as we are on top of the wooden slates, he lowers me down, a fierce scowl etched onto his face.

"Big fucking boats speed down this fucking canal, Cassidy!"

Carter is suddenly nearby. "I've been keeping an eye-"

Max snaps his deadly stare to him and points. "I'll get toyouin a fucking minute!"

His eyes hit me again. They snatch my breath straight from within my lungs. I try to stay firm, but he's making me tremble beneath the intensity of his near-black eyes. "Xander said you guys swim in it all the tim-

"Xander isn't pregnant!"

My eyes well up. "Don't yell at me."

He turns around and grips the back of his neck with both hands, arms growing as they pulse beside his head. Turning back to face me, his expression has quelled in anger a bit. "Little one, you're pregnant. I feel like you're being fucking reckless."

I blink the tears out. "Swimming? I was just swimming."

He reaches to wipe my tears away and I step backwards, not wanting his comfort right now.

"Don't do that," he admonishes curtly.

I pant through my agitation. "You turned my phone off. You have no right."

"What?" His brows draw in tighter. "No right?" His body, big and powerful, looms over mine, the cords in his neck bulging, his jaw clenching. "Anything to do with you is myright."

My sudden need to settle the darkness in him replaces my agitation. So when he turns to leave, I reach for his arm. He stills with his back to me. Circling around his staunch frame, I position myself in front of him again.

"Max." I reach up to press my palm to his pulsing jaw. As he moves into my touch, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs that rough sigh that is almost a growl.

I smile softly at him. "You just have to ask me, okay? Please, just ask me next time."

He opens his eyes, the black of his pupils slightly smaller, allowing a ring of that beautiful grey-blue colour to shine through. "Everything okay with the ultrasound?"

I breathe a little harder in response to the soft confused edge to his voice. Why was he worried? I don't understand. "Yes. Everything is fine." Stroking the afternoon stubble on his jawline, I say, "Why did you book it?"

He lifts his head to look over my shoulder. I twist around and relax slightly when I see Toni is out of earshot, chatting to Carter. I turn slowly back to the half-naked man-god in expensive black pants dripping canal water. "No one can hear us."

The look on his face tells me he doesn't want to share. "I fucked you on your stomach."

Warmth moves through me and I try not to let my smile break my face because Max Butcher is irrationally concerned for our blob.

Yay.

And I have learned to accept his affections in the form of hints, tones, and actions. That is his way. And that is what he has just wordlessly told me.

"He's safe, Max. I promise." My fingers trace the tight cord in his neck. "It's not until the third trimester that they kind of run out of room and we'll need to be careful."

The tension in him drops off like a lead belt and he wraps his big arms around my middle, arching my back, lifting me onto my tippy toes so he can kiss me deeply. The water on our skin causes our bodies to slide together. His tongue moves into my mouth, demanding mine. We breathe each other's breath. I cup his cheeks with both hands, feeling his jaw work as he loves me with his kiss.

His hands start to roam, kneading down the muscles of my back to cup my bum and lift me so I can straddle him.

"This suit," he groans, palming my cheeks. One of his hands slides lower, fingers dripping to tease me. "I wanted to tongue every part of your body when I first saw you in this."

The need behind his lips is devastating to my will. To my sense of self. To the space between us because we don't want any space. Want to be as connected as two people can possibly be. Moans crash loudly from me and into his mouth. He swallows my sounds as if they are his to claim, before shamelessly walking us up the bank towards the house.

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