“Nothing.” I tried not to sound tense as I waited for her to rewind the movie. I read as fast as I could, allowing the hum of my own voice to block out the arousal I felt at her arm grazing mine.

One hundred and thirty-six minutes of hell. I knew exactly how long the movie was because, though I wasn’t a fan of math, it was the only thing keeping me from ripping her clothes off.

If she moved one more time I was going to lose my shit. We were at the very end of the movie when things shifted. With a sigh she leaned on my shoulder and tucked her legs underneath her.

I looked down—I swear it was only to see what she was doing.

And saw directly down her shirt.

Shit balls.

She shifted a bit more; I still stared.

I was going to burn in hell.

And the way would be paved with two very perky, very round breasts. There were worse ways to go, right?

“Luke!” Milo yelled, then shifted closer to me; my body hummed as her head rubbed against my chest.

I imagined her screaming my name.

And suddenly developed a not-so-little problem.

Gently I tried to move away to hide any evidence of where my thoughts were going. I sure as hell didn’t want her to think I had a thing for Luke Skywalker or—God forbid—for robots.

“No.” She yawned and burrowed farther into my chest. “I’m comfortable.”

I almost yelled, “I’m dying!” Instead I smiled like an ass and said, “Yeah, me too, this is nice.”

The hell it was.

I could have sworn my body parts were yelling at me as my muscles strained against my clothes. Free me, free me! I shifted again. Take her, take her!

When I didn’t think I could take it anymore—when I honestly contemplated faking a seizure so I could get some relief from her hot little body—the lights went out—along with the TV.

“Sorry!” Mrs. Caro called from upstairs. “My fault! We blew a breaker! Hold tight.”

I was tight all right . . .

The holding was the issue; any holding and I’d make a fool out of myself.

With a sigh I tried to shift away again, but Milo grabbed my hand. “I’m still scared of the dark.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still scared of sharks, so we can still be friends.”

“I hate that word.”

All I could hear was my own heartbeat in the silence. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Sometimes I do too.”

The lights flickered back on. I turned my head and saw that Milo’s mouth was right next to my chin. Damn it, that woman had never understood her own beauty. She was the type of girl who terrified guys. Her features were too perfect, soft where you wanted them, and sharp where it mattered. Her high cheekbones and pouty lips made me nervous enough—add in her caramel-colored eyes and I was basically a man hypnotized.

I was the damn snake in a basket—in more ways than one.

Ah, if only she had a magic flute.

“You guys down here?” Jason called. The sound of his feet hitting the stairway reminded me of a clock ticking. With each step I pulled farther and farther away from Milo, and in return, her face clouded—as she pulled further and further into herself.

Another moment I’d missed.

Another moment I’d purposefully ignored.

My heart clenched as I wondered if that was the last one I was going to get.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MILO

“Star Wars.” Jason shook his head. “I thought you won at Ping-Pong?” His brows drew together in confusion.

“He cheated.” I punched Colt in the shoulder and received a blank stare in return. What was wrong with him? His skin was so flushed it looked like he was feverish.

I’d thought he was going to kiss me.

Weird, because when I thought he was going to yell at me he kissed me, and when I thought he was going to kiss me he pulled away.

Men. I would never understand them. Ever. Colton was hot and cold, we’d share a moment and then he’d change, acting like he was irritated with me.

My phone went off.

“Max?” I all but yelled. The guy had been silent as the dead for the past two hours. I could only assume he was finding success.

“Ax.” His voice sounded like gravel churning in a washing machine. “Tell Jason and Colton to have the ax ready, I’ll be there in five.” The phone went dead.

“Er, guys, that was Max.”

“He’s alive!” Colton shouted, seeming genuinely surprised at this revelation. “Damn it.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” He looked away.

“He said he needs an ax?”

“An ax?” Jason rubbed his chin. “What the hell would he need an ax for?”

I shrugged.

“Well.” Jason nodded toward the stairs. “We owe him for going into the lion’s den balls to the wall—lets go get the ax from the garage and wait for him outside.”

Five minutes later Max pulled up to the house.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when he stepped out of the Jeep.

His shirt was half ripped from his body, he had scratches up and down his arms, his eye looked slightly puffy, and lipstick stained his collar. To add insult to injury I could have sworn he was missing a substantial amount of hair on the right side of his head—and he had a limp.

“Ax,” he mouthed, then he cleared his throat. “Give me the ax.”

Jason’s mouth opened and closed as he handed Max the ax.

Max didn’t say hi.