Page 57 of Whispered Promises

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It looks like you had a good night last night, Pet.

Instant regret that I didn’t delete it unread overtakes me.

This…whatever this is, I don’t know what to do with it. I tried to report it to the police when the messages first started, but they completely dismissed me. Going back again, I can’t see them wanting to help me any further.

Spitting out the toothpaste, I wipe my mouth and tug back my hair into a ponytail. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s what I’ve been doing so far, so I’m sticking to that. Glancing at my face in the mirror, I huff out an exaggerated breath.

Minimal effort and a pasty complexion is going to have to be the look for today. I’m standing in the hallway, about to tug my socks on, when a rhythmic knock echoes from the front door. Despite my aching, exhausted body, I can’t help but smile knowing who’s on the other side of the door.

Pulling it open, I’m greeted by sunshine. It’s warm and does more for my headache than the ice did.

“Morning, Maxi.”

“Your pack pony has arrived. I come laden with snacks and offerings.” He bows mockingly, his tousled hair flopping forward, the curls swaying enticingly. They always look so soft.

I’ve never been one to be tempted by the “big red button”; if something says don’t do it, you bet I will follow that rule. But his hair is so very tempting. Maybe he needs to trip and fall into the hay, so I can get my fingers back in and tug out the pieces again.

“Just give me a second; I need to get my socks on, then I’m ready to go,” I reply, smiling widely at him.

He grabs the fluffy pink-and-red checkerboard socks from my hands, then drops to his knees in front of me. “Let me.”

Before I can protest, my bare foot is held in his far-too-warm hand. He slides the first sock on, then the other. Heat burns my cheeks, and my breath hitches in my throat. It feels incredibly intimate, and I fight to not squirm.

“Shoes in the car?” he asks, and I nod, a little stuck for words. I’d always thought it nice for someone to hold a door open for another, but putting on socks? Yes, please.

Mutely grabbing my bag and fleece, I pull the front door closed behind me and pad down the hallway after him.

Even though having Max here helping with all the chores is a lifesaver, there is still plenty to do that has me working up a sweat. It’s good; it means I’ve at least sweated out the rest of the alcohol from my system. The air’s also slightly warmer today, and so my skin feels like there is a permanent sheen of moisture coating it. It’s either that, or the constant presence of someone so attractive carrying out manual labour is making me all hot and bothered.

Concentrating is difficult when he’s nearby, and I can’t help but be distracted, with my gaze constantly flicking in his direction.

God, maybe I need to squeeze in some time with my vibrator. Does it even work anymore? Where do we keep the batteries? Argh, do I need to stop off and pick some up?

That feels like a libido destroyer, the mundane chore of having to navigate a supermarket.

Maybe I should ask Nate; that would be earth-shatteringly better.

Bending down I pick up a discarded bucket, and a weird grunt sounds from behind me. I turn around and furrow my brows. Max stands there with a grin on his face, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is everything okay? Do you need any help? Or do you need a break?” I say, because I can’t figure out what his body language means. Does he look sheepish?

“No, no, everything's all good. I just got distracted by the view…” He trails off, his hand moving from his neck to wipe down his face and revealing a smirk behind it.

Is he…is that flirting?

He can’t be and must be laughing at something on me. I’ve wiped my hands down my leggings so many times, they’re probably covered in all sorts of muck, and he’s just mocking me.

“Ahh, okay. Um, well, if you need a break, just stop any time,” I stutter, a blush racing up my cheeks.

I spin around too quickly, and the bucket fumbles in my hand, dropping to the floor with a crash. Leaning down, I snatch it up, but as I straighten, a thick heat comes up behind me.

He’s standing so close I can almost feel him pressed against me.

My chest hitches as I feel a breath skate down my neck, and a spark of pleasure shoots down my spine. He’s invading my space and…I don’t hate it.

“Are you okay? You look a little flustered.” His voice drops, and his words caress across my neck as he leans closer. The breath in my lungs pauses, swirling around as I hold it.