Page 170 of Alphas Like Us

I roll my eyes. He’s bossy as hell, but he’s being bossier than usual. I figure out why in a split-second. His muscles bind, and he glances over at his chimingphone.

The outside interruptions are annoyinghim.

“You can put it on silent,” Isuggest.

He leaves me, and he says, “I’m turning off myphone.”

My brows jump. He rarely powers off his phone. Because it means he’s handing off familial responsibility to another cousin, another sibling, someone else in reach other than him. “You sure, wolfscout?”

He’s at the bar, and the chiming suddenly ends. “Positive.”

* * *

“You sure we should do this?”Maximoff asks me while I massage his deltoids with lotion, our legs tangled with soft sheets. I’m careful of his healing injury, but he’s not referring to myhands.

We’re on our villa’s king-sized bed. Sheer white drapes billow off the canopy around us, and hot wind gusts through the ajar door that leads to the private pool and patio. The front door islocked.

Maximoff is referring to the laptop he just opened with no fucking hesitation. He already typed in a pornsite.

Now all of a sudden, he’s slammed to a halt. “What are your reservations?” I ask, gently kneading his backmuscle.

He spins around to face me, causing my hands to fall off him. Something is eating at him, and I want to call itfear—but it looks more like distress. It drives a knife in mygut.

I reach out and hold hishand.

“I keep thinking about the past three days here…” He gestures to his head. “I think about how I’velovedevery damn second. I love how we’ve just lounged in the sun, swam, fucked, eaten, and slept, but then I think, is it bad that I love that? I should want to leave thevilla.”

Maximoff.

I try not to smile. “But you don’t want to,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.” He scrutinizes my rising lips, and it must be contagious because he begins to smile. “What?”

I lift my brows at him in a wave. “Man, I didn’t plan anything romantic for you outside of the villa, and you didn’t plan anything for me for a reason. And it has nothing to do with paparazzi. This isn’t a five-day unhealthy hideout from the world. It’s a five-day vacation before we link-up with yourfamily.”

He listensclosely.

“And you’re allowed to turn off your phone. It doesn’t mean you’re blocking everyone out to drown in a vice—there is no vice here.” I’m guessing this is the origin of his perpetual thoughts. He’s kept his phone off for three days. It’s not something he does, and there is guilt in the act, especially if he’s having a goodtime.

And we’ve had a lot of sex at the villa, but it’s been healthy. Not compulsive, not used to squash anxiety. See, I’ve read up on sex addiction for him. On everything I couldfind.

His small smile has beenfading.

He needs more; I can give him more. “You don’t relax easily, but you’ve been extremely fucking relaxed the past three days.” I let go of his hand and squeeze two fingers together. “You have a big thing for ordinary shit, and I have a bigger thing for doing the ordinary shit withyou.”

Breakfast in bed, massages, watching movies, laying out, swimming, showering together, these could fill his endless days. And I’d want them to fill minetoo.

His eyes almost redden. “Repeatthat.”

My pulse beats hard. “Whichpart?”

“All ofit.”

I say it all again forhim.

Maximoff smiles a gorgeous fucking smile when I’ve finished. “Alright. I want to do this.” He leans back on the birch headboard, taking the laptop with him. I follow suit, shoulder-to-shoulder, our ankleshooking.

“You pick the video,” Maximoff tells me, scrolling on a familiar gay pornsite.