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I crack my neck. “Good.”
Max glares at me as we climb into the car. “Threatening to have your baby sister deal with pimps just to prove a fucking point isn’t fucking funny, jackass.”
I glare right back, spoiling for a fight. “Sort it then.”
Max slams his hands on the steering wheel. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re always a pain in my ass, but you’re in rare fucking form today.”
“Just drive, Max.”
“Not before you tell me what the fuck is going on,” he snaps back, folding his arms over his chest. “You’ve been acting like a bear with a hornet’s nest up its ass all fucking day.”
“Have not.” Fuck, I sound like a child.
“On top of your little outburst back there, you punched a fucking steel door and almost broke your hand, and you smashed the butcher’s window with a meat cleaver because he didn’t have any prime rib left. What the fuck’s going on with you?”
I let out a long breath. This asshole isn’t going to let up. “I slept with Mia.”
He gapes at me.
“Max?”
“Fuck, Loz.” He shakes his head. “How was it?”
“What the fuck, dipshit?”
“What?” He frowns, face a mask of hurt. “She’s the first since Anya, right? It’s normal for me to ask how it went.”
“That is not a normal response, Max.”
He finally starts the car. “It is. That’s what I was expecting you to ask me after you found out I banged your sister,” he says, deadpan.
I turn in my seat, ready to unleash hell on him, but he’s bent over the steering wheel, laughing so hard that I can’t help but laugh too—just a little. “I should fucking cut your throat for that, you know.”
Wiping his eyes, he sits up and shoots me a wink. “But you won’t. Your sister would kill you in your sleep, and you know it.”
I shake my head and stare out the window while he pulls out into traffic.
“Seriously though, Loz. How was it?”
“The fuck, Max?”
“I don’t mean how was the actual sex, fuck-nugget. How was it”—he waves a hand around—“like after and stuff. How were you? Is it an ongoing thing?”
“Never happening again.”
“And is she good with that?”
“More than good,” I snap.
“Oh?” He glances at me before turning his attention back to the road.
“I don’t think she…” I swallow.
“Don’t think she what?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Enjoyed it,” I mumble.
“Sure she did,” he insists. “You’re like a top fucking Dom or something. I see those women drooling over you whenever we go anywhere near one of those clubs you used to go to.” He arches an eyebrow at me.
