Page 86 of Maxim

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Nah, it’s definitely not a bad thing,” he says as he buries his face in the crease between my legs. “You smell amazing.”

The idea of him burying his face where it is but without any clothes on is…exhilarating, but I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for it. I mean, I need to shave for something like that, right? They were always shaved in the porn they made me watch.

I clear my throat. “The rain. Tell me why you hate it.”

“There is nothing wrong with rain as long as I don’t have to fuck around in it.”

“Aw, do you melt when you get wet?” I tease.

“I’ll show you that I don’t melt,” he growls. “I just fucking hate wet clothes and shoes. The way they squelch is…” He shivers in disgust.

“Good to know,” I say, trying to hide the humor in my voice.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who likes to lay out in the rain.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried it,” I say wistfully.

“What do you mean, you’ve never tried it?”

“Father wouldn’t allow it, so the guards always made sure I never had the chance to try.”

Maxim sighs. “Fine. I’ll lay with you in the rain, just not today, okay?”

He just admitted that he hates getting wet, yet he’s willing to do it just to make me happy. Could Maxim really be any more perfect?

“Really?” I ask.

“Really.”

I sigh, content. “You’re a good man, Maxim.”

“I’m not, but I’m glad you think I am.”

His phone rings, and he sighs as he pushes off of me and stands.

“When I get back, I want some more head scratches.”

“You got it.”

He can have all the head scratches he wants if he keeps it up. That’s for sure.

Lightning flashes across the sky as the rain pours, just adding to my already shitty mood. The windshield wipers fight to keep up, but they are failing. It’s a fucking bitch to see right now and thunder booms so loud I swear it shakes the van.

I fucking hate this.

The back of the cargo van is loaded with ten people who got in willingly thanks to Haruaki’s list that Thea passed to me and have already been given a sedative. They all have trackers firmly in place, which is one of the only things that leaves me with any form of comfort. The other being the fact they are all above the age of eighteen.

I glance back and check on my cargo. All of them already look to be passed out. They have no idea what’s coming their way.

Sighing, I pick up my phone and place the call. It rings three times before it connects.

“Yeah?”

“I’m pulling up. Where do you want me?” I ask the man I hate more than anything in this world, Olena’s father.

“Come around to the back of the building. We will open the door for you, and you’ll pull right in,” he says before hanging up.