Page 76 of Nemesis Mine
Max did, the first forkful perfunctory but the second swallowed with pleasure. He turned his fork sideways to cut into crisp golden pastry. “You’re a good cook.”
“I know,” said Cyrus. He was also hungry; a hard day’s wrongdoing took it out of a person. His own plate was already nearly empty.
“You’re areallygood cook.”
Halfway through a mouthful of lettuce, Cyrus eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to flatter me? What do you want?”
“Just being nice.” Max speared a fallen tomato. “Not something you’d understand, of course.”
“Never,” Cyrus agreed.
Popping the tomato into his mouth, Max added, “Though when you think about it... I’m sitting here, eating the food you so kindly prepared for me. Who else gets such an honour? It’s not even poisoned.”
“That you know of.”
Max smiled at him. “As if you would.”
Cyrus heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I don’t know how I fell so low.”
The smile grew. Cyrus’s gaze lingered on the dimple. Funny, he hadn’t noticed when he began to look at it so fondly.
Although the dimple was almost entirely obscured today. “You need a trim,” he noted.
“I was going to do it before bed. Thought I might shave it off, actually.”
There it was: the ideal opportunity to distract him from the election and all it entailed. Cyrus stood up to take their bowls away. “I’ll do it.”
Max raised an eyebrow. To his credit, he didn’t look alarmed, only surprised. “You will?”
Cyrus nodded decisively. “Give me an hour, I want a bath. But get ready.” He smirked, gratified to see Max’s attention well and truly caught. “I’ll give you your closest shave yet.”
Later, Cyrus found himself straddling Max’s lap, shaving soap in one hand and a gleaming blade in the other. He concentrated carefully as he scraped the blade along delicate skin, pausing to rinse it off in a bucket of water. The soap smelled faintly of wood ash, a complement to Max’s usual scent, and their own soft breathing was the only sound in his lair.
When Max’s beard was gone, Cyrus traced a finger over his smooth jawline. “Who’d have thought you’d one day trust me with this?” he murmured, ghosting the blade over Max’s throat. “I have a rep, you know.”
Max swallowed. Cyrus watched the movement, fascinated. “Oh, I know.”
He recognised that voice, the tension in it. Cyrus leaned in to press a kiss to Max’s bared neck. The blade stayed still, digging in ever so slightly. Max’s pulse picked up under the touch of his lips.
“I could do anything to you,” Cyrus whispered, breathless. “You’d let me.”
Max’s heart thrummed out his agreement. Cyrus glancedup, checking his reaction, and found the champion’s eyes fixed on him with a familiar heat.
There it was. The perfect distraction.
Cyrus dropped the blade into the bucket. The soap landed somewhere on the floor. Neither noticed, too consumed by the hungry kiss Max lunged forward to claim.
Cyrus was dimly aware of strong hands wrapping around his waist and then Max was standing, bringing Cyrus with him, backing through the veil that led to his bedroom. Before Cyrus had time to react, he was on his back on the bed, Max crawling on top of him. Their hands fumbled mutually for buttons and ties, casting clothing aside. Max grabbed his wrists and pulled them above his head, still kissing him, barely pausing for breath.
There was heat low down in Cyrus’s belly, lower still. It wasn’t only Max’s closeness, his touch. It was the weight of him pressing Cyrus to the bed, the fingers gripping his wrists and keeping him where Max wanted him.
Max had dipped his head to mouth at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. His teeth scraped delicate skin. Then his knee was between Cyrus’s thighs, solid and unmistakable. There was something demanding in it, a possessive edge. Cyrus released a shaky breath.
Max drew back. He reached for the bedside table, riffling through the drawer. His hand came back with a little bottle of oil, glinting in the dim light.
“Will you letmedo anything?” he asked, his voice low and intense.
Cyrus’s heart was beating so quickly it felt like it might try to climb out of his mouth. They had spent so manynights together; they had touched almost every part of each other. Almost. Max was as bold and confident in bed as he was in every other area of his life. Cyrus knew what it felt like to lie back with Max above him, broad hands planted on his chest, his body sweat-slicked and tight as he rode Cyrus to gasping climax. He was glorious, majestic in his beauty. There was no hesitation in him.
