21. 21
The heat in my cheeks hasn’t gone away.
How could I say that to Max? And his friends? Accusing Max of bringing me here as a treat? A four-way? To assume that’s all he wanted from me, when he has been nothing but a perfect gentleman.
Max basically dumped me and my bags in a room, shutting the door after me, and went and talked to his friends. And possibly his father, but by the anger I saw in his eyes, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that call.
I hear Max and his friends talking and eventually laughing. When their voices dip low, I’m sure they’re talking about me.
Still, I stay barricaded in my room.
It’s a beautiful room. I knew it would be. The whole island is one amazing view after another. The buildings, the condo… or as much as I’ve seen of it. The airport, and the view I had from the tiny window of the plane.
The plane.
I kissed Max on the plane.
Not just kissed, but kissed. There was tongue. I straddled his thigh.
I hold a pillow over my face and scream into it.
After that arrival, I’m perfectly happy staying right here for the weekend—all-white room, king-sized bed with white linens and piles of pillows.
The bed is sinfully comfortable. I know, because I’m flat on my bed, staring at the painting over the headboard of a little dog running along a beach.
I’m still wearing the clothes I put on in the hotel this morning. It feels like forever. When I woke up this morning, I could have never imagined ending up here by the end of the day.
Noam is dead, and I’m here in a different country, hiding from his son.
Not exactly hiding, but I would prefer to keep as much distance as possible between us.
Noam’s funeral. What am I supposed to do about that?
With a groan of reluctance, I pull myself to a sitting position on the bed. Part of me wants to crawl under the sheets to find out if they’re as cool as I hope they are, but that’s impossible.
I have duties.
Responsibilities.
One thing at a time. At least Tana and Travis have things under control at home. I’m here to… enjoy myself.
I have difficulty even saying that.
I try again—I will enjoy myself this weekend. With Max.
That kiss…
There’s a lot to unpack about that kiss. Max says he has a crush on me, only that wasn’t a kiss you give to your crush. That was a kiss you want to give the woman you’re about to possess—heart, body and soul.
I conveniently forget that I’m the one who initiated the kiss.
I lay back down, hand lying on my stomach. What got into me? What was I thinking?
Max got into me. I was thinking about Max.
But the best thing, the part my therapist would stand up and cheer about—instead of the self-lecture to stop, to pull back because of the hundred and one reasons I should not get involved with Maximus Steele, I lean into it.
I lean into the thoughts of kissing Max and what it might mean. And I tell myself to stop being scared.
When the knock sounds at the door, I smile, because I know it’s Max. I open it to find him with a bashful grin and a glass of wine in his hand.
“Thought you might need this,” he offers.
“I need a lot of things,” I admit, taking the glass. “First is to apologize to you.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t even bother. It was… awkward. I’m sorry to have put you in that situation.”
“But I—”
Max touches my mouth with a gentle finger, stilling my words. “It’s fine.” The way he smooths his finger across my lips makes me want to clamp on to it, sucking it into my mouth.
He’s spot-on about there being something between us.
“You must be hungry. The boys are changing and we’re going to find some food. Come with us.”
I shake my head. “You must want to catch up.”
“I want you to come with us. So do they.”
“I doubt that.”
“C’mon, Nick is half in love with you already. Dex might be a little scared, but he’s a fraidy-cat with women, anyway. You can win him over. Put on something short and sexy and come out with us.”
The way his brown eyes hold mine makes it impossible to refuse. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Okay, good, because…” He trails off, dropping his gaze and I know there’s something else he’s not telling me. “Well, because this is kind of my room, too.”
He can’t be serious.
“There’s only two bedrooms in this condo. I booked the one with four, but there was a miscommunication, and the double isn’t available for us.”
I don’t mention his father even though I get the sense the miscommunication is more like Dalton Steele took away the condo to inconvenience Max and his friends.
He seems the petty sort.
“I could sleep on the couch—” Max offers.
“Or I could.”
“No. You can’t. I dragged you all the way down here—”
“You didn’t drag me.”
“I made you do me a favour.”
“In return for doing one for me.” And it was a big one, so the least I can do is share the bed with him.
Besides, how bad could it be?
Ihave always prided myself on how quickly I get ready, but this time I impress myself. Eleven minutes from when the door closed on Max to when I walked into the living room to find Max lounging on the couch and Nick and Dexter nowhere in sight.
“Wow.” Max’s eyes widen as he sees me.
“It’s not short,” I warn him.
“But it’s sexy as hell.” I had pulled on a dark blue maxi dress with a halter neckline and a slit up to my thigh and loosened my ponytail to let my hair flow down my back. “Wow. You need more wine,” he says as he notices my empty glass.
“I’ll need a lot to get through this night.”
“Why do you say that?” he asks as he heads for the refrigerator.
“I’m not good with friends,” I admit, settling on the couch.
“Your own or other people”s?”
“Both. There’s not much time for a social life for me.”
“That’s about to change.” Max returns with my glass—a very generous pour, I’m happy to see, and a small bowl of potato chips. “We’re here in paradise, so there’s no need to be tense.”
“It is very nice.” I glance around the condo, at the balcony overlooking the beach—white sand and the most brilliant turquoise water. The sun is low in the sky and I’m sure it will be an amazing sunset. “But I’m not tense.”
“No? Good. Let’s make sure.” Max sets his beer on the low table before me and plops down beside me. And then he grabs my ankles and swings my legs up onto the cushions.
“What are you—oh, my god,” I groan as his thumbs press into the arch of my foot. “You can’t do that.” I sag against the arm of the couch.
“Why not, when it clearly feels so good? Besides, it’s my secret talent.” Max winks as his thumbs move along the bottom of my foot. “I give the best foot rubs.”
“Because of my feet.” I try to pull them away, but Max starts at the toes of my right foot, massaging with his thumbs and fingers and threatening to make my eyes roll back into my head. “I don’t like my feet,” I manage.
“I like them fine, and I’m the one with my hands all over them. I might even want to suck your toes.”
“You don’t—oh. This might be your superpower,” I moan as he moves to my toes. My feet have taken a lot of abuse over the years, with my dancing and sky-high heels I prefer. To pamper myself, I like to go for regular pedicures, but Su, at Su’s Pretty Nails, never tends to my toes like this.
“I do my best. I like your toes.” The tiny nails are painted a lavender shade.
I narrow my eyes. “How much do you like my toes?” I ask warily.
He laughs. I like Max’s laugh—deep and carefree. I like that he laughs so much because, every time I hear it, it’s like another block has been knocked off the weight resting on my shoulders. “I don’t like them that much. But they are pretty. Do you have issues with people liking your toes too much?”
“Once or twice,” I admit, and a breathy moan escapes as he works magic on my big toe. “I’ve never really loved my feet,” I add, my eyes drifting closed. “They’re big.”
“They’re feet-sized,” he argues.
“Size nine and a half. Big size for a woman. Plus, I was a dancer for most of my life, which means calluses and nails falling off and even a broken toe or two. So when this one guy wanted to suck my toes—”
“Please tell me you kicked him in the face.”
“I almost did.” I laugh—
“Did you just giggle?” Max demands.
“No!” I rear back. “I’m not a giggler.”
“I think you might be. I think you’re secretly a giggler.”
“Just like I secretly want my toes sucked?”
“Oh, really?” He lifts my foot up and I shriek with laughter, trying to tug down the hem of my dress as it falls past my knees. “You’re not ticklish, are you? Sensitive feet?”
“No, you could do whatever you want to my feet.”
Max’s smile fades. “What about the rest of you?” His hands move to my ankle and slowly up my calf, holding my gaze the entire time.
His fingers feel amazing—kneading and caressing—and ripples of sensation race up my leg as he continues upward.
How far up will he go? Because right now… “That’s a… sensitive area.” I inhale sharply as his fingers press behind my knee.
“I’ll have to remember that.” I hold my breath, conscious of the sudden ache that wants him to continue up, past my knee, onto my thighs…
“You’re very good at this.” I watch Max with eyes half closed, praying he can’t read my mind. Despite the good, I’m not convinced Max is a good idea.
Or rather, I don’t think I’m a good idea for Max.
He likes to play. He needs to have fun, and I’m not that person. Work is my life, and it’s been too long since I’ve had anything else that I’ve cared about, that I don’t think I’d know how.
“I’m very good at a lot of things,” he says with a promise heavy in his voice.
“I’m sure you are.”
“Maybe I can make you sure.” I open my eyes to meet his dark gaze, so like melted chocolate. I might drown in his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not used to getting what I want,” I confess in a soft voice.
“You should be. Always. You may be doing me a favour by being here with me, but I want this to be amazing for you. A life-changing weekend.”
“You think you can change my life?” I can’t stop the hopeful note in my voice, even though I don’t want my life changed. I don’t need anything else—I have everything.
Except someone to share it with.
Find someone to make you happy.
Max’s hands are still on me, firm but gentle. That’s what I think of him. “I think I want to try,” he says in a low voice. “I know we said friends, but that kiss earlier didn’t seem all that friends-like.”
“Are we ready to party!” Nick cries as he slams open the bedroom door.
I practically jump off the couch.
“Oh,” Dexter says as he catches sight of our position. “I think maybe, I might—sorry,” he mouths.
“It’s fine.” I swing my legs off Max’s lap and with a shaky hand, reach for my wine. “Are we ready to go?”