Page 15 of Waiting for Her

“Hey, dipshit!” Mark calls again, this time throwing dinner rolls at his head.

Luke’s eyes snap up as the bread hits his chest, finally focusing on Mark and realizing that everyone is staring at him.

“What?” he mutters, shutting off his phone and placing it down on the table. I notice that he doesn’t put it away in his pocket, it stays in front of him, as if within easy reach if needed. “I was just looking at my phone.” He rolls his eyes when Mark makes a sarcastic noise before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

“It has to be a girl,” Max says from beside me, his fingers still lightly touching my shoulder as heat rushes through me with every pass. “That’s the only explanation as to why he keeps looking at it.”

“I could be checking emails,” Luke says, though not convincingly.

“Yeah, because you love your job that much,” Drew says while taking another sip of his beer.

Luke ignores my brother as best he can, picking up his phone once more when it quietly vibrates on the table.

“I think Max is right,” I pipe up, trying to keep the smile from fully breaking out. “Is that what this is all about? Did you finally find a girl that can deal with all the drama you have at home?”

It’s not a secret that Luke and his parents don’t get along and haven’t for a very long time. My brother and I, Max and Mark included, all know the stories, have heard the snide comments and threats from the two people that raised him. But Hannah and Kate? They’re clueless, which is why Kate pipes up and asks what we’re talking about.

“Let’s just say that my family causes more harm than good and no girl has ever lasted long enough to even make it through a full dinner with them.”

Kate’s eyes bug out and we all chuckle under our breath because the way Luke just described his family is probably the understatement of the century. There is no world in which Paul and Jackie don’t “do more harm than good.” More like the devil and his wife were reincarnated into a housewife and her rich husband.

The table breaks out into chatter that honestly goes in one ear and out the other because Max keeps lightly brushing those talented fingers of his over my shoulder, and when I look over, trying to see his endgame, he’s not even paying attention to me or the fact that I’m about to combust. His eyes are on Luke, silently studying his friend and making sure he’s okay, while my eyes peer over at Drew, whose eyes are on Max’s fingers as they caress my skin. I expect anger, I expect a snide remark, but what Drew does is smirk, then wink, something that takes me completely by surprise and I practically flinch in my seat.

“You okay, baby?” Max whispers in my ear, his free hand lightly resting on my leg as he turns toward me.

His fingers delicately squeeze my thigh as a rush of arousal bursts through me. My head turns and when I notice that Max and my brother are having some kind of silent conversation—most likely about me—I roll my eyes.

“You know, you look fucking gorgeous tonight, right?” Max whispers as I take a breath, knowing I need to get out of this room before I melt into a puddle of lust, so I excuse myself and make my way, hurriedly, toward the bathroom.

My reflection doesn’t hide the fact that all I want to do right now is bring Max into this room and have my way with him. I have half a mind to just do the deed myself so I can relieve some of the tension that’s building up inside of me. But before I can even contemplate how that can be possible without anyone else knowing, the door beside me bursts open and Max walks in, shutting it quietly behind him.

“Max? What the fuck are you doing?” I mutter through clenched teeth, keeping my voice low because I know the men in the house are more into gossip than all the women put together.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks toward me, caging me in as my ass hits the counter and his arms rest on either side of me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, completely ignoring my question. “You’ve been acting weird all night, and it’s been bugging the shit out of me.”

Well, well. It looks like he is perceptive after all.

“Well, for starters, you bursting in here without knocking didn’t help things.”

He rolls his eyes, one of his hands grasping my hip and dragging me so that my belly is flush with his stomach. I’ve dreamed about what it would feel like to have him flush against me, no baby bump in the way, no barriers, just him and me. And the more I think about it, the more I want it.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. You’ve been quiet. Every time I try to look at you, you turn away. What happened?” The panic in his gaze takes me off guard as the uncertainty lingers as his fingers flex against me.

“Does everyone out there know about us?” I blurt out, my breath stalling as his eyes take me in, searching my face until the silence between us almost becomes too much.

“Probably. I told your brother, and then he told my brother, so I’m pretty sure everyone knows by now. Why? Is that a problem?”

I take a deep breath, not knowing how to word this in a way that won’t piss him off. How do you explain to someone who seems so certain of something that you aren’t certain… at all?

“The issue is that they seem to know what we are, and I’m sitting there wondering what the fuck is going on!”

His eyes narrow, his brow scrunching as the confusion sets in.

“Max, you claim you want me, yet you haven’t touched me in days!”

“That’s not true, I was touching you all through dinner and even dessert. And from the goose bumps I felt under the tips of my fingers, I say you enjoyed it.”

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