Page 133 of Invisible String
“How about we break it in?”
I rise on my toes to kiss him. He leans into me and takes his tongue in my mouth, savoring every drop. Every day, I’m healing from our past, and my mom’s passing. His hand grips my ass, kneading it. He remodeled his entire kitchen for me. Those words scream in my head.For me. I don’t even live here. I moan into his mouth. God, he kisses so well, and his body is hard like a steel machine.
“That was nice.” He smirks. “What was that for?”
“You’ve given me too much today, but a kitchen. And I don’t live here.”
“Not yet,” he throws out. Max pulls out a bowl covered with Saran wrap from the massive steel fridge. “You can use it for your food testing. I wanted you to have something in this homefor you. This is me showing you I’m not going anywhere. I want this with you.”
I gulp. “I know you do. You’ve proven that to me. I trust you.” My words are pure honesty. Max has shown me and spoken every word from the bottom of his heart.
Max’s eyes soften as his elbows press against the island. “You do?”
I nod. “I do with my whole heart.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He quirks his lips. “Good.” He struts toward me, his hands brushing my cheeks, hoisting me to kiss him. “I’ll show you every second of the day you’re worth it.” The kiss is short and passionate, filled with promises. “Maybe we should order out instead and break in the kitchen in another way. Like having you on this island spread for me.”
I hum, completely content. “Sounds tempting, but I would love to see what Max Cano can cook.” Kiss. “Dessert after?”
Max rubs his nose on mine. “Sounds like a plan.” With the pad of his thumb, he lifts my chin.
Our gazes connect, and I can’t help but let out a breath. His eyes are hypnotizing and change to a different hue depending on his mood. Right now, they are greenish with a storm of gray. Breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t help but grin at him. He’s too stinking cute.
“You have a sexy smile, sunshine.” It seems he can’t help but laugh up a grin.
“You make me happy,” I admit. God, it feels good to smile and be in his arms.
“That’s all I want. I would die without your laughter, your smiles, and your warmth. You give my dark heart peace.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have a dark heart, Max.” I want him to see how amazing and caring he is, even when he thinkshe’s not good at expressing his emotions. He’s one of the good ones. He’s just anti-social. Nothing wrong with that.
“It feels like it at times. I’ve dealt with a lot of shit that no child should have experienced. I’ve seen things I shouldn’t have.”
The air has been sucked out of me, and weights are pinning me down. The marks on his back that resemble a road map must be from other foster homes, not just from his father. It destroys me to imagine anyone causing harm to a child. How could someone do such a thing?
“I know you don’t want me to say it, but I’m sorry for what happened to you. Um, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here for you. I will forever be your guiding light. We can illuminate each other’s paths.”
“I think we make a great team.” He pinches my cheeks. “How about I feed my girl?”
My stomach growls.
“Yup, definitely need to feed my woman.”
My cheeks burn, and he laughs like always. He loves me blushing.
“How about protein bowls?” he suggests, opening the pantry door.
I gasp at the walk-in pantry the size of a bathroom.
Wow.
After crushingon the kitchen and the pantry, I helped—okay, no—I watched him cook because he didn’t let me. I’ve never been turned on by watching a man cook. Max grilledchicken, which he then chopped and arranged over a bed of white rice and black beans. He finished the dish with lettuce, tomato, and a spoonful of homemade guacamole. With a homemade salsa. I’m impressed; although it was simple, it was so good.
After we wipe down the counters and put the last of the dishes away, we settle into the living room. Max lounges in the sofa’s corner, his body relaxed, and one leg casually draped over the top. I nestle in between his legs, my head resting on his abs, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers tangle in my hair as he plays with it. We’re watching a show. I’m unsure what it’s about. My mind is on the bulge pressing on my neck and his hands in my hair.
