by Lexi Ryan
Chapter Eight
I’m curled up against Max as he traces my spine with his fingertips and presses kisses along my hairline.
“Do we do this a lot?” I murmur against his chest.
He laughs, a silent chuckle I can feel more than hear. “Which part?”
“The steam room?”
“Never before, but I think we will now. In fact, I think I’ll save my pennies so we can get one installed in our future home.”
“Our home,” I say, testing the words. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” His voice is hoarse.
“Where will we live after we get married?”
“We hadn’t really talked about it, but if it’s between my tiny apartment above the club and your tiny apartment above the bakery, we should probably go with your place.”
I frown. “I thought you had a house?” Not that I remember ever being there, but I remember seeing him work in the lawn of a tiny ranch off Main.
“I sold it. I was never there anyway.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and cups my face in his hand. “I can’t give you anything fancy yet, but I will. Whatever you want. I’ll make it happen.”
“I don’t need fancy. Just you.”
He wraps his arms around me and squeezes. “We should get out of here.”
“Yeah, I think I’m out of sweat.”
I grab my towel off the floor, but it’s soaked and useless for drying me off. Max opens the door, and a shiver runs through me as the cool air hits my warm skin. He grabs a towel from the stand and wraps it around me.
His clothes are draped over a chair outside the steam room, and as he removes his towel, I can’t help but let my eyes slide over his body, every inch of it toned and muscular. There’s a three-inch tattoo of a dragon right inside the V of his hipbones. It must have been covered by his shirt when he was in my apartment last night. I want to lick it.
“You have a tattoo.”
“I do.”
“When did you get it?”
“Last December. I’d been thinking about it for a while, but you talked me into it.”
I grin as I skim my fingers over it.
He releases a deep groan. “Hanna, you touch me like that and we won’t make it out of here tonight.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and rise onto my toes to kiss him. “Max Hallowell, I don’t know how I landed a guy like you, but I promise I’m going to be the best wife you could ask for. I’m going to earn this.”
Something flashes across his face—sadness, regret?—and he strokes his thumb down my cheek before gathering me against his chest and drawing in a deep breath against my hair.
“I’m the one who needs to earn this. Don’t be fooled.”
