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A large hand landed on top of his head and gently petted his hair. “It’s okay,” Ed murmured.
“It’s not okay!” Max exploded and then covered his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry.” The apology was muffled, and he dropped his hand. “You don’t need my rage as I sit comfortably from my position of white privilege. What can I do to help you?”
Ed smiled at him. “Just keep being your adorable self.”
Max narrowed his eyes at his companion but kept his skeptical comments to himself. No one had ever called him adorable. He had serious doubts about his general adorableness, but if Ed thought he was adorable, there must be something to it.
“I’m sorry for interrupting. Would you be willing to continue?” Max asked.
“Adorable,” Ed whispered and yep, there it was. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. This man was killing him. “Anyway, joined the Navy and spent three years on an aircraft carrier. I initially wanted to be a fighter jet pilot, but I was too tall. Not long after, I went through my training to become a SEAL. That’s where they let me specialize in my next favorite thing: demolitions.”
A giggle nearly escaped Max at the look of pure joy on Ed’s handsome face. “That’s where you learned to blow shit up, right?”
Ed nodded. “Yep. I know explosives inside and out. All the latest bombs and grenades. I even know dozens of ways to make homemade explosives from household items. I can rig tiny distractions or take down an entire building. You just tell me what you need.”
“Okay, your job is way more badass than mine. I talk to dead people, and you make things explode.” Max threw up his hands. “You win.”
Ed snorted. “It was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t even my favorite part of the job.”
“You’re kidding!”
Ed shook his head, grinning broadly. “I got to drive everything.”
“What?” That…that didn’t make sense.
“When on a mission, a SEAL team is very small and specialized. It does most of its work independently. We’d hitch rides with the Navy or some of the other military forces to a certain point, and then after that, we were on our own. My job was getting us to and from our target. That meant I had to be comfortable driving whatever was at hand—car, boat, plane, helicopter, whatever.”
“You got your pilot’s license,” Max breathed.
“Yep. Just about the only thing I can’t fly is a fighter jet, but I can handle pretty much anything else.”
Max turned more toward Ed, matching his position with his right arm propped on the mattress and his head resting against his hand. “That is so fucking cool. Like James Bond but hotter.”
Ed turned his face away, seeming embarrassed. “If you want James Bond, you can talk to Soren. He was the Bond of our group. I was simply support.”
Max sat up, his hand braced on the edge of the bed to support him. “What? Soren? You mean he was a spy? You’re all spies?”
“I was a SEAL for about four years. I blew out my knee on a mission and needed surgery to fix it. From there, I was discharged because they wouldn’t let me back into the field.” He snorted, his grin turning lopsided. “The ink was barely dry on my papers when the CIA recruited me. That’s where I hooked up with Charlie, Soren, Kairo, and West. Did that for several years and then shit hit the fan.” Ed waved a hand as if to brush away the past. “In the end, we were a bunch of guys who had some unique skills that could help people, so we started our group.”
“That…that is amazing,” Max whispered. “I guess I got lucky by running into you.” He reached for his plate and glanced at his watch. “Shit! We’ve been talking for hours! I need to get to work, or you guys are going to be stuck with me forever.”
Ed grabbed his hand and squeezed, drawing Max’s gaze up to his soft, warm eyes. “Nobody is feeling stuck with you, I promise. I’m personally glad that you’re here and safe.”
Max sighed. “You can’t help it. You’re just a natural-born sweet talker.”
“When I want to be,” Ed admitted.
“You know, you didn’t bring up anything dessert-like for lunch. Any chance I can get something sweet from you to carry me through my work?”
Ed huffed a laugh.
Yeah, yeah. It was cheesy and dorky, but Ed was still leaning closer, so fuck it. Cheesy worked sometimes.
They kissed once, twice. Slow, careful kisses that had Max drawing in, wanting even more. Kissing Edison was so addictive. He felt safe, treasured, and sexy. Who else in the world could do that? No one, that’s who.
It was only at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs that Ed drew away, earning a pathetic whimper from Max. He didn’t want it to end, but he needed to return to work.
