Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3)

by Serene Franklin

  Maxim and I spent most of the next week at home catching up on his teen dramas. He kept up with his gym routine and I hunted for jobs on the days I didn’t go with him. I hadn’t yet made a resume, but I’d bookmarked everything that seemed probable. I wouldn’t be doing anything glamorous, yet I was sure anything would be better than sitting around alone once Maxim went back to work. Everything was relatively normal aside from the fact that we hadn’t had sex since that day.

  I didn’t think it was a lack of attraction; Maxim still looked at me the same as he’d done before, and I definitely still wanted him. For some reason, we just weren’t connecting sexually. Everything else was unaffected. We talked more, we laughed, and we spent even more time together. It was almost like neither of us knew what to say to show that that aspect of us was okay. I sure didn’t, anyway.

  The season three finale of The Originals I’d half been paying attention to came to an end, and Maxim shut off the TV. He was being the responsible one and insisting we go to bed at a reasonable time because we were having a couples therapy session tomorrow morning. Begrudgingly, I dragged my ass off of the couch and out of Maxim’s embrace.

  I finished brushing my teeth first and left him in the bathroom while I crawled into bed. Once I finally got the blankets sorted, I startled when I saw Maxim leaning against the doorframe, watching me. The set of his brow made him look troubled or deep in thought—it was hard to tell in the dimly lit room.

  “What’s up, babe?” I asked.

  He took a deep breath, then walked over to the closet, completely ignoring my question. With deliberate actions, he moved several things aside and pulled out a small box from the top shelf. With his back still to me, he clutched the box tight enough for his forearm muscles to flex.

  “Max?” I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, about to get up and go to him.

  “Rem.” Something in his voice halted my movements, and I gripped the edge of the mattress. He faced me, then closed the short distance between us with four strides. With the box still clutched in his hand, he sank to his knees in front of me and looked… almost scared.

  “What’s wrong?” I reached for him, and he caught my hand with his free one, stealing my breath.

  Maxim turned my hand, then kissed the inside of my wrist before he released me. I waited with bated breath until his eyes flicked up and met mine; I saw nothing but love in them.

  “I’m sorry if I’m acting strange. I… I can’t think straight when you touch me sometimes, and this is important.”

  I dipped my head to let him know I was listening, though I remained silent.

  “I won’t sugarcoat this; when you left me back then, I thought I was going to die. I honestly didn’t how I would go on without you. Time didn’t make it hurt any less, nor did it diminish my feelings for you. Now that I know what it feels like to lose you and have you back, I know wholeheartedly that I love you more now than ever before.” He held up his hand holding the box, then opened it.

  My eyes stung with the warning of tears as I stared down at a ring box. It was the same one I’d seen when Maxim proposed. He opened the box and a cry escaped me when I saw our rings. They were a little tarnished, but just as beautiful as I remembered them.

  Maxim picked up the smaller of the two gold bands and swallowed hard. “Will you wear this again, and let everyone know that you’re mine? Just as I’ll wear the other to show that I’m yours. Remy, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” I forced out with trembling hands and a shaky voice. “God, yes, Max. Yes.”

  He set the box on the bed, then slid the ring—my ring—onto my finger. Seeing it there was too much, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that fell from my eyes, nor could I stop the sobs that shook my shoulders.

  Maxim wiped away my tears with a smile, then I picked up his ring and slipped it onto his ring finger. The sight of it there along with my own caused me to choke up. It was like an invisible force was squeezing my throat, but I craved it. The force of it brought me closer to Maxim and then I was in his warm embrace again.

  He kissed me soft and slow, and I devoured him in turn, taking everything I could. His pace matched mine in seconds and I was on my back in the middle of the bed with Maxim’s weight pressing on me.

  “I need you,” I rasped in his ear. I felt lightheaded, whether from the euphoria of having everything I’d always wanted, or all of the blood rushing to my dick, I wasn’t sure. It was probably both, but I couldn’t think about anything but him.

  We tore off each other’s clothes like they were ablaze, yet the heat between us only increased with each discarded item. When we were skin-to-skin, the fuzzy feeling in my head had me feeling almost drunk. I clawed at Maxim and touched him everywhere I could, somehow needing to feel him on every inch of me.

  In the wake of a bite to my neck hard enough to almost make me come, he pulled back and stretched over me. When he slid back down, he pressed one—no, two—slicked fingers inside me, making me wince, though it quickly turned into a moan when I breathed out. Maxim swallowed up the sound as he locked his mouth to mine, his skilled tongue and fingers working in time to tear me apart.

  After one graze over my prostate, Maxim withdrew his fingers, and I mourned the loss of him—only for a moment. The delightful stretch and burn when he entered me had me uttering curses and digging my nails into his back. He rolled his hips in slow, deliberate thrusts that targeted my prostate and had us both coming within minutes.

  We were a mess of entwined sweaty limbs when Maxim’s cock finally slipped free of me. I was a fuckin’ mess, yet neither of us moved until we caught our breath, and even then, it was only so Maxim could flip us over. I lay pressed against his side and spun the gold ring on his finger as he rested his hand on his chest.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked in a sleepy, satiated voice.

  “Nothing.”

  “Rem.”

  “Shit, don’t you wanna wait until you find out the extent of my crazy tomorrow?”

  He shook his head, determination never wavering. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to love you tomorrow just as much as I do tonight.” He brought my fingers to his lips and kissed each of them. “Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.”

  “I love you, Max—so much that it scares me. I’m not certain about much of anything in my life, but I know with everything I am that I love you. So fucking much.”

  “I love you too, Rem.”

  I drifted off while listening to the steady beat of Maxim’s heart and rubbing my engagement ring with my thumb. I had a second chance to see my unfulfilled promise through to the end, and I vowed to never break it again. Not just for Maxim’s sake, but for my own as well. He’d been right when he’d said that we were all just looking for somebody to love. I could overcomplicate everything as much as I wanted, but his words remained true. We weren’t searching anymore, and I wasn’t alone; we had each other, and the rest we could figure out in time.

  Epilogue

  Maxim

  Six Months Later

  After spending nearly eight hours supervising on a worksite near the West Loop, I was back at the office finishing up some paperwork. On days like today when I wanted nothing more than to go home after a long day, I detested my promotion. Days like today were few, though. I was on edge because I hadn’t seen Remy in three days.

  He’d gone to a music festival with his sister in San Francisco. They’d invited me, but I couldn’t leave in the middle of a job. He’d arrived back around noon, then went straight to work, though he should be finishing up soon.

  As much as I wished I could have gone with them, I knew getting away would be beneficial for him. Our therapist had stated that it was a good idea for us to have time away from each other occasionally. She said it was paramount that we maintain our separate identities, which I understood.

  We typically had one couples session every three weeks, an individual session once a week for Remy, and once every two weeks for me. Remy was st
ill battling with his self-worth and had been diagnosed with clinical depression, though he had fewer dark days. Once the right medication was prescribed, he seemed so much more like his old self.

  My own treatment was also making a positive impact on my daily life. When I was diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder and learned more about it, I felt like a fool for trying to hide that I’d been struggling for so long. Remy had suspected it, but hearing my doctor and therapist explain it to me made me understand that my behavior wasn’t normal—I’d just been coping with it since I was a child.

  We’d tried cognitive behavioral therapy first due to my reluctance to take antidepressants or any other drugs. Exposure and response prevention in particular seemed to be working best. Remy was amazing in helping me with it. There were times he could identify when I was trying to hide or shift focus away from myself, without me even realizing I was doing it.

  I checked the wall clock and rubbed along my clean-shaven jaw—keeping up with shaving had become part of my therapy. If I came in early tomorrow morning to finish these documents, I could catch Remy leaving work if left now.

  Without further deliberation, I stacked up the papers strewn about on my desk, locked them in a drawer, then left to catch a cab. I usually took the bus or Metra, but I was in a rush to see my fiancé.

  When I walked up to the storefront of Eat Cake, the closed sign was flipped yet the door was unlocked. I entered, smiling at the familiar faces inside. Bryan hadn’t yet changed into his regular clothes and was wiping down the coffee machine while Elijah and Dubhlainn chatted at a table in the corner.

  What had me laughing was seeing Remy in his apron behind the counter, arguing with Macalister. They were both leaning forward, almost touching.

  “You’re the fuckin’ worst. No way is ‘Ice Ice Baby’ better than ‘Under Pressure.’ Get the fuck out,” Remy hissed.

  Macalister threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Oh, shove it, Gambit. Sucking up to the boss just because he loves Queen isn’t going to score you any points.”

  “Actually, it’s going to score him all the points,” Bryan said, unbuttoning his white chef coat.

  “I’m not saying ‘Under Pressure’ isn’t a great song, because it is. But ‘Ice Ice Baby’ is iconic. It’s got more than double the YouTube views—just saying.”

  Bryan snorted and went back to ignoring them while Remy threw his hands up in frustration. “Since when is fucking YouTube a good measure of anything?”

  “Says Mr. Instagram influencer,” Mac quipped.

  Remy growled, looking like he was about to jump the counter and tackle Macalister. I took that as my cue to make my presence known.

  I cleared my throat and all eyes landed on me. Instead of trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible, I stood tall and proud with a smile on my face.

  “Max,” Remy said as he hopped over the counter and bounded toward me.

  I caught him in a tight hug and our lips met instantly. We were hungry for each other after the days apart, and the kiss showed it. I heard Macalister shiver and utter “gross,” while Bryan and Dubhlainn whistled.

  I pulled back first, smoothing his brown hair out of his face. It was dyed back to its natural light brown color now, though he had a similar cut with the sides shaved. “I missed you.”

  He kissed me again quickly, then spun around. “Am I good to go, Bry?”

  Bryan nodded and Remy untied his apron. He took it off, balled it up, then threw it at Macalister’s unsuspecting face. I grabbed him by the arm and led him out as Dubhlainn jumped up and held Macalister back as he laughed.

  Once outside, we headed down the street and I kept my eyes open for another cab. There was no way I was waiting forty-five minutes to get home via the Green Line or bus.

  “You’re trouble,” I said to Remy as I slipped my arm around his waist.

  “He’s annoying. He’s been calling me Gambit for two weeks straight since I got my haircut.”

  I bit back a smile and squeezed his hip. “He calls you Gambit not just for your haircut. He likes you.” Remy opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Think about it, Rem. X-Men is his favorite comic series. You two are like kids with platonic schoolyard crushes with all the veiled name-calling and insults. It’s pretty adorable.”

  Remy groaned. “At least it’s not Remington Steele anymore.”

  “Enough of that. Tell me about your trip.”

  He launched into a play-by-play of the weekend that lasted the entire trip home, and then some. The sun had begun to set by the time I unlocked the door to our Oak Park home. We’d moved in two months ago and still had some rooms to paint and furnishings to update, but it was ours. I locked the door behind us, then pushed Remy against it, forcing the air out of his lungs and cutting off his story about getting recognized from his Instagram days by a pair of teenaged girls.

  I crashed my lips to his and felt him melt in my arms. I slid my hands around the backs of his thighs and lifted him up, giving him the better angle to deepen the kiss. His arms and legs wrapped around me while he worked me over with his tongue and the occasional nip to my scar.

  “Welcome home, love.”

  The lust in his eyes simmered, and he looked into my eyes as a shy smile stretched across his lips. “Welcome home, Max.”

  We’d taken to that exchange every day since we moved in. Neither of us grew up in loving homes, and it was important to us to cherish what we had now.

  We were finally home and together; the rest of the world ceased to matter.

  Also by Serene Franklin

  Spread: getbook.at/spread

  Turning Out: getbook.at/turningout

  Princes of the Universe (Crazy Little Thing Book One): getbook.at/princes

  Killer Queen (Crazy Little Thing Book Two): getbook.at/killerqueen

  About the Author

  Serene Franklin lives in Halifax (Nova Scotia, not California), but has fallen in love with Chicago through research and writing. She has a political science degree, and—more importantly—an adorable and mildly irritating Goldendoodle named Tai.

  When not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking spicy food, listening to music, losing at crib, and watching anime. Serene is a proud otaku and collector of anime figures in addition to novels and yaoi manga.

  Serene currently writes contemporary MM romance, but has plans to branch out into other subgenres.

  Email: sfwrites801@gmail.com