Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(55)

Maximoff knows all of this.

Yet, he says, “We don’t know that.” He zips up his jeans.

Good luck steering that ship, the security team told me. I almost smile because Maximoff being headstrong is as expected as finding a tree in a forest.

And there’s no reason to ask why he suddenly cares. I’m assuming reality is catching up to him, and he really, really dislikes when people know the details of his sex life.

He can easily talk about sex in generalizations, but when it includes “when” and “where” and “how often” he’s used to shutting down.

I wrap my towel low around my waist. I didn’t bring extra clothes in the bathroom. Leaning on the sink, I say, “How about I leave and you wait five minutes in here?”

Maximoff pulls a gray shirt over his head. Water drips off his wet hair and runs down his temples. He’s thinking.

“Or,” I say, “we can walk out together.” I pass him in the cramped space, our chests brushing, and I place a hand on the doorknob. “Your choice, wolf scout.”

“Alright.” He takes a confident breath. “I’ll leave with you.”

I open the door and step into the first lounge with ease. Besides Akara and Sulli in the driver and passenger seat, every person is packed in here.

All three Cobalts are squished on a couch, busy on their phones, and Omega bodyguards cram in the booth and the adjacent couch, eating cereal.

Their heads whip to us, and the chatter dies when Maximoff emerges. His jaw is tensed like he’s ready to enter a fight.

SFO eagle-eyes him ten times more than they scrutinize me, their curiosity apparent. Before I came along, security used to talk about Maximoff’s one-night stands like a myth and legend, and no one has ever seen him “after” before.

My jaw tics, face all hard territorial lines. Back the fuck off written numerous times. They divert their gazes. I comb a hand through my hair and watch Maximoff reach the small counter. He makes hot tea, his body rigid.

“Didn’t you have to piss?” I ask Oscar.

He stands and whispers to me as he passes, “You lucky bastard.” The bathroom door shuts behind him.

As normal chatter returns, I enter the narrowed hall. Sliding the curtains to my bunk aside, I grab my small duffel and pick out clothes. I change in the empty second lounge, cracking the door.

Black pants on, I slip my leather belt into the loops and clasp the buckle—suddenly, all noise fades again.

Something’s wrong.

I gently kick the door open wider. Able to see down the hallway and into the first lounge.

Shit.

Charlie leans forward on the couch and stares Maximoff down like he’s trying to hook a fish for dinner.

I ditch my shirt and reroute back to everyone just as Maximoff sets his mug aside and says to Charlie, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

I fill the doorway and hang casually onto a pull-up bar above me, one that Sulli and Beckett put together. Oscar is already out of the bathroom, and Jane is inside brushing her teeth. I sense Oscar silently telling me to “stand down” and not intervene in a Cobalt-Hale feud.

As bodyguards, we’re not allowed, but that’s my boyfriend on the end of someone’s glare. And I’ve never sat idly by and let a man I love fight a battle alone.

Charlie flips his phone from hand-to-hand, and his twin brother whispers in his ear. I can’t hear what Beckett says, but no one expects Charlie to hold his tongue.

“You pride yourself on being respectful,” Charlie begins, “and in your mind, I guess fucking in a shower that nine other people use lands in that category.”

Fuck him. My hand drops off the pull-up bar, and swiftly, Oscar, Donnelly, Quinn, and even Thatcher stand and block my path.

Maximoff glowers at Charlie. “You haven’t spoken to me once since we started this tour, and that’s the first thing you tell me?”

Thatcher whispers to me, “Calm down.”

“Don’t talk to me,” I say in a calm voice. I’m not thrashing around or about to pop off, but they’re very aware that I can slip into a fight and cold-cock Charlie.

“You’re the one who just asked me to say something,” Charlie says and then laughs bitterly. “I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted to hear, but maybe you shouldn’t surround yourself with people who kiss your ass all day, all long.”

Maximoff inhales a sharp, agitated breath. His jaw severely sharpened, and he turns and looks briefly around. He’s trying to find someone. A guy who believes he can do everything on his own is searching for one other person.

For me.

His gaze lands on me.

I step forward—Oscar puts a hand on my chest.

“Oscar—”

“Leave my client alone,” Oscar says, his voice non-threatening. We’re both familiar with Charlie and Maximoff going head-to-head.

I lower my voice. “Tell your client to back off mine.”

Oscar shakes his head. “Charlie only listens to Charlie…and sometimes Beckett.”

Charlie still zeroes in on Maximoff. “Here’s the cold-hearted truth. You actually like boasting. You get off on being better than all of us, so you come out here, practically bragging about fucking your boyfriend, whenever you want, whenever you like.”

Coarse hands splay over my mouth, restraining the string of attacks that I could’ve and probably would’ve spewed. Because I know just how deep and cold those words go.