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“Right?” He runs one hand over his stomach. “It also helps with hip flexing.”
This conversation probably needs to stop, but I can’t seem to make that happen. “Hip flexing?”
“Yeah.” He bends at the waist, thrusting forward in a way that makes me weak in the knees. “Like this. Hip flexing.”
After spending the last few years with men whose hip flexing left a lot to be desired, my brain and libido latch on to the smooth but powerful way Maddox moves. I bet he could rattle a girl’s teeth right out of her head.
She’d probably thank him for it too.
Maddox’s phone starts to ring, stopping his mind numbing movement. He points at my breakfast. “Eat while I get ready.” He stares at me, lifting his brows, phone continuing to ring.
It’s not until I sit down at my tiny two-seater dining table and pick up the fork he’s left out, that Maddox finally connects the call, watching me a second longer as he presses it to his ear. “Yeah?”
I don’t hear anything else of the conversation, because he turns and goes down the hall to the bathroom.
My stomach is still a little touchy from months of fear and unrest—plus that strange visit we just had—but if Maddox went to all the effort to make me food, the least I can do is choke it down.
The fluffy eggs and melted cheese are seasoned perfectly and sit surprisingly well, so I plow through them pretty quickly, managing to fill my stomach for the first time in what feels like forever. I’ve always been a little on the thicker side—with boobs and hips and booty—but all the stress has taken its toll, and I miss myself. Miss being able to fill out a bra and finish a dessert.
It’s funny how things change. There was a time when I’d been told there was too much of me for so long that I hated the way I looked. Now, I’d give anything to get back there.
After finishing breakfast and polishing off my coffee, I load my dishes into the dishwasher, lining them next to the ones Maddox has already racked up, and set the appliance to run. By the time I have my bag and purse collected, Maddox is striding out of the bathroom, looking like a dark night in his tactical gear and boots.
A dark knight who is going to stick out like a sore thumb at the store where I work.
We sell everyday basics for the whole family. Jeans, T-shirts, joggers, hoodies. Our offerings definitely lean toward the casual side of fashion.
Mercenary chic isn’t our aesthetic.
“What’s wrong?” Maddox looks down his front. “Do I have something on me?” Continuing to look himself over, he spins around, like that will help him get a better look at the parts of his body he can’t see.
And holy shit is it cute. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined someone who does what Maddox does for a living could be so... Adorable. Like a big, overgrown golden retriever trapped in a man’s body.
A very top-of-the-line man’s body.
“You look fine, but if you’re trying to blend in, that might be a problem.”
Maddox’s eyes come to me, skimming my frame from head to toe. I resist the urge to stand taller. To straighten my shoulders and stick out my chest. He’s simply gauging the difference in our outfits, not checking me out.
I’m the only one checking anybody out in this situation because I’m a bad, bad person.
“This is all I brought.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “And I don’t think I’ll be able to borrow any of your clothes.”
There it was again. Maddox being freaking adorable. It makes me want to squeeze him. Makes me wish we’d been able to meet under different circumstances.
Ones that wouldn’t eventually make him see me differently once everything I’m holding back comes to light.
Forcing on a smile, I try to sound light in spite of the dark cloud now looming over me. “I don’t think you’d blend in any betterwearing my clothes. Especially since my pants would all be about six inches too short and your shoulders would explode out of my shirts.” I’m currently staring at the shoulders in question, which is why I notice when Maddox seems to flex a little, the muscles of his upper body bunching and shifting beneath the black fabric of his fitted shirt.
Yeah. Very much hate this being the way our paths crossed.
“I’ll call Isaac. See if he can figure something out.” Maddox finishes his cell from his pocket, but I stop him.
“I can actually fix this.” A genuine smile curls my lips. He’s already done so much for me, and I’m a little excited to do something for him. “As long as you don’t mind letting me dress you.”
I don’t fully realize what I’ve said until a spark of something flashes across his eyes.
Was that…heat? Why?—