13. 13
There’s something about Max. He is seriously like a puppy—tail wagging, tongue hanging out with big puppy eyes and a goofy expression. He’s funny.
He makes me laugh.
But puppies aren’t supposed to be sexy. Max Steele is sexy and that assertiveness that peeks out has the potential to make my toes curl.
I’ve always been in charge in the bedroom. It’s how it always is, how it has to be.
It’s the only way I could have survived.
Even playing the submissive, I always know I am the one pulling the strings. I wonder if it would be that way with Max.
Going away with a man like him… going away with a man who isn’t paying me… This is a first.
The last time I was interested in a man was two years ago. We went on three dates over six months before I found out he got married during that timeframe. The time before that was when I was twenty-eight. I had to put out a restraining order on him.
I don’t date.
Max seems different from my usual admirers, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested. Or will become interested. Relationships don’t work for me.
Max tries to make small talk on the drive to the mall—shopping. I’m going shopping for clothes… for a man.
Back when I saw clients, they were wealthy and dressed in expensive suits. It wasn’t something I insisted on, but I did show my appreciation.
It always comes back to sex.
I know Max wants me. It was obvious the way he stared at me last night in the restaurant, and I… I didn’t dissuade him. It had been a long time since I had a man look at me like that—someone who didn’t see me as a possession for the evening. Arm candy. A sure thing after a long day in the office.
I check my emails on the drive, text Tana and Travis and explain why I won’t be back in the office until this afternoon without telling them exactly why.
Travis will think I’ve been kidnapped and Tana will wonder—
What will Tana think?
She’s always telling to enjoy myself. Take up a hobby, spend time with friends, relax. Exactly what Noam told me.
The sharp stab of disbelief takes my breath away. I can’t believe he’s gone. I Google his name to see if any information has been released. Because until it has, maybe…
He’s gone and there’s no sense pretending otherwise.
I have few friends, Noam being one of them. My neighbour, Malcolm. Tana, but I pay her, so does that really make her a friend?
I have no interests other than making money. I can’t relax unless I’m listening to my meditation podcast in the hot tub.
Even then, it’s hard.
Tana also tells me I should have more sex.
I just laugh when she comes up with that.
I’ve had enough sex to last several lifetimes. Sometimes I think I would be happy closing up shop—the shop being my vagina—for good. And then other times, I think I’d miss it.
I’ve been missing it lately.
Is that why I agreed to go away with Max?
I look up from my phone to see Max staring at me with that mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. It’s almost like he knows what I’m thinking about.
My cheeks heat at the thought of him reading my mind.
“Finished with your busywork?” he asks.
“I do more than busywork.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m also pretty positive that you’re not yet totally comfortable with me and are trying to keep busy, so you don’t have to talk to me.”
It is possible that the man can read my mind.
I make a production of slipping my phone back into my purse. “What would you like to talk about?” I ask politely.
“Many things, but now you’re off the hook because we’re here. Time to shop.”
I doubt Max knows he just quoted Pretty Woman.
The driver pulls up to the mall doors and Max manages to dart out and over to my side to open the door before the driver.
I’m a little impressed by his manners.
He lets me walk through the sliding automatic doors of the mall as well. “Come here often?” he jokes.
“Actually, no,” I admit. “I don’t take a lot of time to shop.”
His gaze trails over me. “Someone does an amazing job making you look good, though.”
“Tell me how you know Marcus,” I ask when Max is confined to a changing room trying on three suits, all of which I chose.
The salesperson helped, but I gave him the parameters—destination wedding in a warm climate, possibly on a beach—and I made the decision of the final three.
Max stood by with a bemused expression as I dealt with the salesman.
And now I wait outside the changing cubicle—not a great one for a store with such expensive clothes.
I have the money to buy everything in here, but I still can’t get past the feeling I don’t belong. That I’m still the little girl pulling up the cushions on the couch to find spare change to buy a snack after dance class. The young teenager doing math assignments and writing essays for her classmates, and charging them for it so she could buy new dance shoes.
The seventeen-year-old who first took her shirt off on stage so she could buy her little sister a new dress.
That girl is gone, but old wounds run deep and I still have a hard time fathoming that I can afford to be in here.
Trying to disappear from these thoughts, I check my email but Tana has everything under control. As a rule, I don’t use social media, so there is nothing to doom-scroll as I wait.
I watch the curtain that keeps the rest of the store from getting a glimpse of Max changing. A curtain that isn’t exactly pulled tight, leaving an inch-wide gap.
And when you stand where I am, you can see right through the gap.
Of course I look away, but not before I catch sight of Max’s boxer-brief-clad ass as he buttons the shirt.
There might be burritos on his ass.
I look up—over—anywhere but—
They’re definitely burritos. And his ass… firm and round, not quite a bubble butt but coming pretty close. Max has a confidence about him, and it’s clear from my view that his ass makes a great anchor for it.
I really try to find something else to focus on. But I don’t move away.
A few moments more and Max pulls back the curtain. “You want to know about Marcus, but first—what do you think?”
The first choice is an ecru linen jacket and pants with a white shirt, untucked and unbuttoned just enough to wonder what his bare chest looks like. Because from here it looks pretty good.
Almost as good as the back.
I appraise with pursed lips. “Every man at the wedding will be wearing the same colour,” I decide.
“You picked it out,” Max accuses with a laugh.
“I didn’t know if you wanted to look like every other man at the wedding.”
His chin juts up. “I prefer to take advantage of my uniqueness,” he says in a lofty voice.
“And how are you unique?” I ask, trying to keep my mind away from the burritos on his briefs.
“I just am,” he sings before disappearing back behind the curtain.
I stay where I am.
Yes, I peek, because Max does an even worse job of closing the heavy fabric this time.
I’ve never been preoccupied with the male physique. I can admit that some men have very nice bodies—Chris Hemsworth and Jason Mamoa would be good examples of two I might be preoccupied with if I was ever able to peek at them in the changing room.
A lot of the men I’ve seen don’t have good bodies, and while I don’t hold it against them, it makes me less likely to go around and sneak a peek.
But Max is right there… and now he’s only wearing a pair of loose-fitting pants. Shirtless.
I can’t see his chest at this angle but his back— Muscular. Broader than I expected, tapering to narrow hips.
There is not a love handle in sight. Just a expanse of skin… tanned. Nice looking skin.
Nice looking body.
If I move just a bit to the right—
“Cady?”
I jump two feet to the left. “Yes?”
Max drops his voice. “Are you spying on me?”
I press a hand against my chest, trying to still my heartbeat. “No! Of course not.”
“Are you sure?” The way he asks doesn’t make me think he considers it a bad thing. And that’s the only reason I move back to my original spot.
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Because I can see you.” Max turns pirouette-fast to face the crack between the curtain and the wall.
Facing me. “Which means you can see me.”
Instead of ducking out of sight, I hold my ground, feeling the heat rise to my face as I wish for the floor to open and swallow me up.
The saying Never let them see you cry works as well with Never let them see you blush.
“Hi, there.” Max wears a smug, half grin as well as only the pants. “See anything you like?”
I slowly, ever so slowly, run my gaze across this face—the smiling mouth, full of kind words and good humour, and the nicely groomed beard.
I’ve never liked facial hair before.
Down along the wide shoulders to his chest, etched with muscles and sprinkled with dark hair, flat abs that make my mouth dry out a bit.
Where was he hiding that body? It should not be hidden. Especially that ass…
I’m quickly learning to appreciate a nice male physique.
I look all the way down and I look all the way up, and then I give my own little smug half smile. I lift a shoulder as if Maybe.
Max laughs. He gives a flounce of his head and yanks the curtain closed.