After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,59

the consequences, Max.”

I swallow hard. “Consequences?”

“Let’s be honest and just call them repercussions,” he says sweetly, the light of battle burning bright in his eyes.

And even though I’ve just signed up for whatever retribution he can rain down on me—I can already hear him sniping and snarking and plotting—having him near will be worth more to me than a ransom of gold.

Chapter Twelve

Three Weeks Later

Felix

I wake up to cold sunlight on my face. I’m snug and warm under the thick duvet, and I stretch happily, feeling the tug and pull of my muscles. The sheets smell of lavender, and the bed is so much the right firmness it could have been picked by Goldilocks.

“Hmm,” I say out loud and smile as it echoes around the hotel suite.

My smile widens. The huge and extremely expensive hotel suite. I look around the room. It’s sumptuous, with luxurious bath products, a massive TV, and bedlinen that’s soft enough for a king to rest on. Then I think of where Max is sleeping, and my grin turns into laughter. I’m still chuckling when I stride into the massive shower enclosure and start the water for what will probably be an epic amount of time. No one appreciates endless hot water and good water pressure more than a narrowboat owner.

An hour later, I slide into my chair at the table opposite Max in the hotel restaurant. He looks up from his bacon and egg that he’s attempting to cut up with one hand and gives me a very jaundiced look.

“Thank goodness you finished your shower within the two-hour time period, Felix. The water board were getting worried about the supply to Central London.”

“How did you know I was in the shower?”

He gives me a look. “Please, Felix. I spent months sharing hotel rooms with you. You made more orgasm noises in the shower than you did in bed.”

I wink. “Said no satisfied lover ever.”

He shakes his head and carries on trying to saw his bacon in half with the knife clutched in his hand like a toddler with a training set.

“Why didn’t you ask the hotel staff to cut that up for you?” I ask cheerily.

“They’re not cutting up my food,” he says in a scandalised tone as if I’d suggested they’ll be washing his privates with a flannel at any second.

I shrug. “Your loss.” The bacon shoots across the plate and disappears under the table somewhere. “Goodness, I hope that hasn’t gone cold by the time you manage to find it,” I say happily, and he scowls.

That intensifies the power of my smile at the waiter as he arrives to take my order. “Ooh, I think I’ll have eggs benedict,” I say, handing the menu to him.

“Stop flirting,” Max says gruffly as the waiter departs.

“I never flirt before breakfast. It would give me indigestion.”

He grunts something in response.

“Pass me the plate,” I say with a sigh, and he hands it over happily with no sign of his earlier indignation. “How come you’re not protesting about me doing something for you?” I ask, cutting his sausage into neat bites.

He gives the one-shouldered shrug he’s perfected over the last few weeks. “I like you doing it. It feels right.”

I smile at him sweetly. “I wonder how right it will feel when I say, ‘Here comes the choo-choo,’ and stuff it in your big fat mouth?”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Are you daring me?”

The thought obviously appeals to his inherent naughtiness, as he hates backing down from a dare—a fact that my neighbours on the boat would attest to, after he streaked down the canal towpath completely naked one night.

However, this time he shakes his head. “Felix, this is the Ritz,” he says primly. “Kindly show some decorum.”

“I think I left it in my football-field-sized bed,” I say slyly.

He can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “How epically fortunate for you, Felix. I hope it doesn’t get lost. I, on the other hand, do not have the same problem, as a flea would have trouble hiding in my bed, such is its minute size.”

I want to laugh so badly, but I put on a very sad face. “It’s shocking, really, how small these hotel economy rooms are.”

“Shocking,” he says, slowly relishing the word.

We stare at each other for a second that lasts too long. I can’t help but smile, and unfortunately, it’s not the smile I usually offer him—cold and full of teeth. This one is the real deal, and it takes his widening eyes to realise my mistake. I