Landlord Wars(76)

Despite Max’s eagerness, it had taken more than six weeks for me to finally move in with him, but work was killing me softly with training the new hires and projects pouring in, so I’d kept pushing off the move until now. But this was just the official move in. I’d been sleeping over at Max’s nearly every night.

“Call. I call you Landlord Devil. As in, it’s my current nickname for you.”

His head tilted to the side. “I like it. It’s appropriate.”

“Isn’t it?”

Max reached down and picked up a pair of pink underwear. Not the ones he’d seen on Jack’s couch the first day, but still, they were pink, and they’d somehow fallen on the floor.

His face pulled into a naughty grin. “Did you plant these?”

“No!” I reached over and tried to grab them. “They must have fallen out of the laundry this morning.”

“Be honest—you planted them.” He held my underwear over his head, blocking me when I tried to reach for them. “What if I left my boxers around the house?”

“I’d envision you naked,” I said.

He nodded in appreciation. “Good point.” He absently tossed the panties behind him. “Maybe you should stop unpacking and come back to the bedroom with me.”

I put my hands on my hips. “My panties aren’t going to get put away if I go back to the bedroom.”

“I’ve decided being neat is overrated. Your panties want to be free, and I’m here to support their movement. Why don’t we start with the ones you’re wearing?” He sauntered toward me, all casual like, but there was intent behind his movements.

I giggle-screamed, and he chased me around the couch.

“They want to be free, so let’s help them,” he said, catching me by the waist and kissing my neck.

“You first!” I shouted and darted out of his reach.

He froze for all of a second, then started shucking his clothes.

At the first flash of Max’s naked skin, I wrapped my arms around his neck and jumped in his arms, but he’d been standing on one leg at the time, trying to get his pants and shirt off at the same time in his haste.

We fell back, and Max twisted so we landed on the couch.

“Ooof,” I said, then peered down at his shirt wrapped around his neck. “Can I help you with that?”

He winced. “I think I sprained something.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t your penis.”

The look of horror on his face was hilarious. “Don’t put those sorts of images in my head.” He rolled me over and kissed my mouth. “My body is in perfect working order—”

“I thought you said you sprained something.”

“—and I’m about to prove it.”