Page 50 of Hex and the City
We took turns showering — separately — an odd sort of tension in the air. I knew Leon wanted to get frisky, but I could sense that he felt the same way that I did. A little worried about saying or doing the wrong thing, a little scared to ruin the tenuous peace.
Later, the two of us brushed our teeth, nudging each other for space in front of the sink. This time I openly admired the bulge of his bicep, how his chest strained against the ribbed gray fabric of his borrowed tank top.
He elbowed me, chuckling around a mouthful of foam, like he wanted me to know that he’d caught me staring. Big deal. He was ogling me in the mirror, too. It was sweet, and weirdly domestic. I could get used to this.
Leon practically sprinted out of the bathroom when he finished, a one-man race to my bed. He stuffed himself under the covers, sighing pleasurably.
“It’s so firm, and so soft,” he moaned. “And your sheets, Max. Oh, God. Were they handmade by angels?”
“Oh, yeah, very expensive,” I said, slipping into bed next to him. “Got them on sale, though.”
He sat up, mouth in a curious circle. “Are you serious? You have to tell me if you’re kidding. I can’t tell with you sometimes.”
I lowered my head onto the pillow. “Totally serious. These pillows? Stuffed with phoenix down. It’s why they’re so warm.”
“Well, now you’re just making fun of me.”
“No, seriously. See how soft they are.”
I tugged him onto the bed so his head hit the pillow. He smacked me, laughed, then started fluffing the pillow with one hand.
“Whoa. It’s so soft and warm. Did they really have to pluck a phoenix to make this?”
“Leon. You’re so gullible. It’s adorable.”
“You’re such an ass,” he said, so softly it could have been affectionate. He blushed, looking away for a second, pretending not to grin.
Oddly, there was no actual friskiness between us. The hot shower had sapped the last of my energy for the evening, and I could guess that the same went for Leon, too. He laid on his side, wearing a loose, tired grin, knees bent toward me. I wasn’t an expert on body language by any means, but I didn’t need to be one to know that was a good thing.
It felt nice, like two buddies sharing a bed together, and not a creaky, moth-eaten one like at the motel. None of that same aggressive tension, either. Didn’t stop him from snuggling up against me, though, slipping an arm under my torso, resting one ankle against mine. He buried his face in my chest.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“You’re welcome,” I muttered back automatically. “Wait. For what?”
No answer. He’d already dozed off. I stared at the ceiling, counting down the seconds until I fell asleep, too. And then I remembered. Damn it. I forgot to moisturize. Again.
I glanced down at the soft, vibrating lump next to me, warm as a puddle of puppies, his slow breaths lulling me to sleep. I couldn’t roll out of bed now. It’d be like telling a sleeping kitten to get off your lap. The only right move would be to stay there motionless. I couldn’t get up, not even to pee. I’d have to suffer.
That was it, then. I was stuck for the night. I pulled Leon closer, shushing him when he groaned in complaint. Fine. I could live with my torment. As far as punishments went, this wasn’t all that bad. I pressed a kiss against his wild mane of hair, whispered a wordless goodnight.
I could moisturize in the morning.
23
LEON
Ismacked my lips as I opened my eyes to a sliver of morning light. God, I’d actually slept through the entire night. No interruptions. No aches, either. How long had it been since I’d slept in a normal, comfortable bed?
Not that Max’s bed counted as normal. Unbelievably comfortable, though, the kind of thing I’d expect to find in a high-end hotel, or a snazzy beach resort.
I gathered a handful of the covers, pulling them up to my face to take a long, deep inhale. The smell of clean, and the smell of Max. Something masculine and crisp and fragrant. Maybe the lingering scent of his laundry detergent, or his perfume.
Or maybe it was just the way that Max smelled, fresh, yet sharp and intoxicating. A bit strange, though, that I was in bed with the smell of Max, but without the actual Max in question.
“When you’re done sniffing up my sheets, we should think about breakfast.”
I froze, lying perfectly still on the mattress. The voice had come from beyond the bed. Was he on the couch, watching me, waiting? That creep. That sexy, stupid creep.
