Page 64 of Wished

“Laying them flat ruins the spine,” I say, indignant on the book’s behalf.

He grins. “Itwasyou. And the scent of chamomile that lingered on my sheets. I thought it was the detergent, but?—”

“It’s aromatherapy. For healthy sleep. If you don’t like it?—”

“I like it.” He takes my hand and places it back on his chest, inside his jacket, so that I can feel the strong beating of his heart and the heat of his skin through his shirt. “The weekly vase of flowers in the entry?”

“Me.” I look to the side, avoiding his eye.

Max takes my chin in his fingers and tilts my face back up. “The fresh cakes of hand-milled soap laid out on freshly laundered towels?”

“Me,” I whisper, my throat raw.

“The hazelnut croissants last Christmas? They weren’t from your company?”

“No,” I admit.

He nods, his thumb brushing over my chin and then lighting on my bottom lip. “I ate them all in one sitting,” he says, smiling. “I glutted myself on them. I devoured them.”

My breath is tight in my chest and it feels as if I’m breathing through a straw. I can’t get quite enough air.

“One last question,” he says, his voice low and melodious. “Did you ever lie in my bed? Strip the sheets, strip yourself, sprawl naked on my mattress and touch yourself?”

“No!” I cry, all the air rushing from my lungs.

“Shame,” Max says, dragging his thumb over my mouth.

“You’re disturbed,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m a professional. I take my job seriously. Well, I did until I was fired.”

Max grins, and as I keep talking his grin widens even more.

“How could you even ask something like that? How could you think that?—?”

“And did you or did you not watch my crime-show episodes and leave the playback a good ten seconds after where I’d left them?”

“What?” I say, struck dumb.

He gives me a wolfish smile. “Admit it. You piggybacked on my streaming.”

“Did not!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I ...” I frown, giving him a no-nonsense look. “Maybe once.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Twice.”

His eyebrow rises higher.

“Fine. At most, six times. I had to watch until I found out how Sean escaped from?—”

He starts to laugh, his chest vibrating with mirth under my palm. I push at him and he pulls me close, wrapping his arm around me and holding me tightly.

I stand stiffly. “It’s not funny.”

“It isn’t at all,” he agrees. “All these years, you were an essential part of my life, and I didn’t even know it. You were wrapped in every part of my day and I didn’t even know your name. It’s not funny at all.”

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