Page 28 of Maxim

The thought of spending the night in bed with a guy who has a wife or girlfriend makes me uncomfortable. Even if nothing happened, it’s still wrong.

One look in the huge mirror above the sink tells me what I already suspected.

I look like crap. My eyes are bloodshot and what’s left of my eye makeup has turned me into a panda. With a sigh, I grab some tissue and do my best to wipe away the worst of the damage. There isn’t a lot I can do about my red eyes, but at least my face is semi-clean now.

There’s a hair elastic around my wrist so I drag my wayward hair up into a loose bun. The huge shower is tempting but the longer I delay leaving the bathroom, the harder it’s going to be.

I’m going to have to face Max soon enough, so I may as well get over it now.

Did I have sex with Max? Fuck. If I did, I don’t remember it. I don’t feel like I had sex. And I’m pretty sure I’d feel something if we had.

With a quick motivational speech ringing in my head, I open the door and step back into the bedroom, and then sigh with relief when I realize Max has gone. My clothes are folded neatly on a chair, so I get dressed.

My phone battery is at 11% but that’s OK. It’s more than enough to call an Uber. I scroll down the screen to see if the girls have messaged me. But there’s nothing. They must still be comatose.

Not surprising really. If my muddled memories are correct and they were carried out of the bar.

Speaking of which, I really need to ask Max about what the fuck happened last night.

Chapter nineteen

Max

Natalya walks in, her hair scraped back and her face scrubbed clean. Aside from her bloodshot eyes, she looks surprisingly good. I can tell she’s feeling rough though. Her face scrunches up when she smells the bacon I’m frying.

“Grease will settle your stomach,” I tell her.

“I’m fine with just coffee … if you have some?”

My coffee machine hisses and gurgles, delivering a perfectly brewed espresso.

“Cream and sugar?”

She nods, taking the small mug when I pass it over. Our fingers touch briefly and a spark shoots up my arm. From the frown that flits over her drawn face, she felt it too. I watch her add a large splash of cream and then three sugars.

“What happened to my friends last night?” she asks eventually.

I don’t reply for a moment, too busy collecting bread, butter, and condiments for bacon sandwiches.

“Eat something, Natalya.”

She huffs at the commanding tone of my voice. I fold my arms, enjoying the way her gaze drops down and lingers on my chest. My cock wakes up but she can’t see my semi because I’m standing behind the counter. Not that I care if she gets an eye full.

But she needs to eat first.

Bacon.

I’m a gentleman.

Sometimes.

“Fine!” She huffs some more but pushes a slice of bacon inside a bread bun, squirts some ketchup on it, and begins eating.

My sandwich is gone in two bites. The bacon is smoked, nice and crispy, just the way I like it.

Kolya says bacon is packed full of preservatives and bad for my arteries. He can go fuck himself. I don’t always have time for breakfast, but my girl needs food, and this morning I don’t have much on.

Nat’s phone starts ringing from inside her bag. The ringtone is … what the fuck even is it? Something upbeat.