The Consequence of Revenge

“Or a worm.” I smirked.

“Or the largest piece of PVC pipe a girl could see!”

“Because you know us girls, we’re really scared of tools and such.”

“I offer you my services, madam. You may play with my tools any which way you please. I know just the one to start with.”

“Max.” I pushed myself into a sitting position. “I’m not playing with your—”

Max gripped my hand and placed it across his chest. “Start here.”

“Huh?”

“My heart . . .” He grinned. “What? You thought I was talking about something else? Geez, Becca, get that pretty little head out of the gutter. I would never, and I do mean never, force you to put your hands on me.”

I grinned. “That’s sweet.”

“Now asking . . .” He winked. “I’d probably do that.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I could have starred in that movie . . . I’m way more badass than Tom Cruise. Besides, I have better hair.”

“Speaking of hair—” I reached for another piece of chocolate. “Where’s Reid? And the production crew?”

“You like his hair?” Max’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s nice,” I teased. “So thick and wavy.”

“Not funny.”

“Silky.”

“Becca . . .” Max warned.

“Running my fingers through it would feel like—”

“One more word and I’m putting Nair in his shampoo.” Max flipped me onto my back and pounced on me, straddling my body. “Then again, the guy would probably look good bald too.” He closed his eyes. “Damn you, Reid!”

“I like your hair too.” I reached up and tucked his dark hair behind his ears. “It’s . . . nice.”

“Hmm.” He leaned down. “We can do better than nice, can’t we?”

“Sexy?”

“A word that starts with sex?” Max seemed to think about this for a minute. “Sold.” He jumped off me and held out his hand. “Now for the second part of the date. The film crew got the footage they needed, and you and I are going on an adventure.”

I placed my hand in his. “Where?”

“To the moon.” Max grinned. “Where else would I take the girl I like?”

“Go big or go home?”

“See!” Max wrapped his arm around me and led me outside. “We get us!”

“Us?”

“A couple.” Max kissed my forehead. “That’s what we are.”

“Oh.” I felt my face heat. Had he just . . . declared us an us? Did that mean he wanted more time once the show ended? I decided not to approach the subject. Instead I leaned farther into Max’s embrace and calmed my rapidly beating heart. I had him for now. We were an us . . . and I loved the sound of that.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

MAX

“Becca!” I yelled over my right shoulder. “Hurry up!”

“Must. Get. Water!” She heaved, leaning her head against the rock.

“Water’s for wimps,” I scolded. “A few more feet, come on, I know you like climbing things . . . remember what I taught you about rock climbing.”

“Orgasms,” Becca muttered. “The last thing on my mind.”

“Funny.” I laughed. “They’re always the first thing on mine.”

“You’re a guy.”

“Hooray! You noticed.” I lifted myself up to the top of the rock and turned around to offer my hand. “I was afraid I was going to have to drop my shorts or something.”

“Keep”—she heaved—“pants on.”

“Where’s the fun in clothing if you can’t take it off?” I offered an easy smile and lifted her the rest of the way to the top of the cliff. The climb had been close to thirty feet. To be fair, I hadn’t realized it would be so hard, especially after drinking all that wine and taking a power nap, but I was desperate for romance. No, not true, I was desperate to romance her.

And Becca wasn’t like normal girls. I couldn’t bring her flowers; she’d probably sneeze into them and be like, Oh, cool, you got me weeds. I couldn’t give her chocolate because the show had already done that. I was big on the gesture thing, the only issue was that the minute I realized I wanted to do something . . . another thought occurred.

I’d never actually dated a girl beyond a few weeks.

The big gesture?

Hadn’t ever taken place.

I’d never wanted to invite a girl into my life. In my mind it was like inviting a vampire into your house, all of a sudden they had free rein to come and go as they pleased, meaning they could redecorate while you were out golfing and you couldn’t say shit about it because ding ding ding, you’re the jackass who invited them in the first place!

But if Becca was a vampire . . .

I’d totally invite her in.

Let her bite me.

Hell, I’d bite back—pretty sure it would be hard not to . . . biting into that supple skin was what dreams were made of.

“Max?” Becca touched my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Just thinking about vampires.” I shrugged. “Sexier than zombies.”

“True.” She nodded. “Plus vampires bite.”

“So do zombies,” I pointed out. “But I’d rather be bitten by a vampire.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">