Page 36 of Wicked Devotion
I am too scared to admit I don’t know how you throat-punch someone. My self-defense knowledge is barely enough to calm down a first-grader during a meltdown. One of the smaller first-graders.
“Ah, shit, the phone,” Max mumbles to himself once Logan leaves the room, walking over to Logan’s bedside table.
“We got some evidence from your house yesterday. Your phone was completely ruined, and Logan and I decided it would be safer to get you a new SIM altogether.” He opens the top drawer, pulling out something. “So I got one of my old phones ready for you.”
He hands me theoldphone that’s still at least three generations newer than mine had been, and I don’t know what to say.
One look at the clock and three hissed ‘fuck’s’ later, Max gives me a rushed kiss on my forehead.
“The WiFi’s connected. You’ve got mine, Logan’s, Charlie’s, and Sam’s number in case you need anything,” he says, already halfway out of the door.
“Thank you,” I yell after him while I stand in the middle of the room, a little overwhelmed, phone in one hand and credit card in the other.
I’melbow-deep in a bag of chips and four episodes into the last season of Unsolved Mysteries when Max stumbles through the door. The hallway lights are on, and I must have been so focused on my show I completely lost track of time.
The smell following Max into the room is a mix of gunpowder, his cologne, and a hint of burnt hair. Gleaming at me, he starts to undress before the door even falls into the lock.
“Had a nice day, baby?”
“Mhm,” I mumble, trying to let the chips disappear as subtly as possible. I don’t know if Max meant ‘buy the entire snack aisle’ when he handed me his credit card. “What about you?”
“Would have been a better day with you by my side,” he says, winking at me before he pulls his shirt off. “Was Charlie nice to you, or do I have to slap him?”
“No need for physical violence,” I say while I fight to keep my eyes trained on Max’s face. “He was great. Tried every sample first to make sure no one was attempting to poison me.”
For the entire drive to the supermarket, Charlie and I were stuck in the awkward small talk stage. It got better once we got to the actual shopping part, and after an hour in the garden section, we found out we have quite a lot in common.
“Logan’s gonna be relieved to hear this.” Max laughs whilehe bows down a little to get out of his pants, and now I have the perfect excuse to let my gaze wander. “Want to shower with me?”
Max picks his shirt up from the floor and throws it over to me. It smells so good I have a hard time resisting the urge to shove it in my face and inhale his scent until I pass out.
“You’ve got the bathroom all to yourself, I showered earlier.”
“A pity,” Max says, shaking his head. “I’ll make it quick then.”
He walks over to the bathroom, and mere minutes after the water starts running, Logan comes in through the door. Like God himself made it his mission to keep me on edge tonight. Max’s shirt disappears under the covers, keeping the chips company, while Logan’s expression sours with every piece of Max’s clothing he has to kick out of the way.
“What got you so horny?”
“Huh?”
“Turned on. Wet, down there,” he says, a grin spreading on his face. “Got a fine nose,” he adds, and I really hope he’s just messing with me.
“Ahm... I’m not—“
“Sure, sweetheart.” He snorts, picking up Max’s pants to throw them on the couch. “It’s a surprise I can smell anything over Vaughn’s reeking stuff.” He yells the last part, and Max’s reaction follows immediately.
“I don’t reek,” Max yells back from the shower.
“Wasn’t meant as a complaint, sunshine,” Logan replies, and then, the next man starts to get naked in front of me.
As more and more clothes land on a pile on the floor, I realize that Logan’s arms aren’t the only body part of him that’s tattooed.
“Shower’s roomy, you know,” he says while I can’t keep myself from ogling him. By the time my eyes trail down hisstomach, the question if his boxers hide more tattoos must be plastered on my face.
“Lily.” He clicks his tongue. “Shower?”
“Max’s already in the bathroom,” I reply mindlessly, and Logan shrugs, turning his back toward me. He steps out of his boxers, answering fifty percent of my earlier question.
