“What? Pap smears?”
He laughs. “Exercise.”
I shoot him an incredulous look before taking another sip. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Travel,” he says, placing his wine back down.
“What?” I ask, lowering my glass.
“I like to travel. Not for work, but for me. There’s something about getting on a plane and leaving everything behind—the pressure, the expectations. I like that you can land in a new place where no one knows you. No one needs anything from you… and for a moment, you just exist.”
I watch him quietly.
“My whole life is structured. I’m constantly in and out of boardrooms, my weeks planned out months in advance. But travel? I don’t need to know what’s going to happen next. I can wake up one day and have the freedom to do anything. I can breathe.”
I tilt my head. “I get that. I can’t imagine the sort of pressure your role entails.”
“I love my job,” he says, and I believe him. “I love working with Grayson. But I crave spontaneity.”
“That’s surprising,” I admit. “I thought you’d have everything planned down to the minute.”
His lips quirk. “Only in business.”
I nod, another question tugging at the edge of my mind. Before I can stop myself, I ask it. “Is that why you haven’t had a relationship since Casey?”
His jaw tenses, just briefly, and I worry I might have pushed too far. But he doesn’t shut me down.
He taps the base of his wine glass. “I told myself if I ever got serious again, it would have to be with someone who gets it. The pace. The ambition. The way I live.”
His eyes lift to mine. “My equal.”
And I swear—I forget how to breathe. My mind replays his words from this afternoon.
Because I think you want to see me too.
And I do.
Iseehim.
The verbal foreplay has been so intense, the more he talks, the more attractive he is.
By the time we finish our meal and the waiter slides the bill onto the table, I’m thrumming with need. Every time I adjust my legs, the cool air brushes between my thighs. I press my legs together, seeking friction—anything—to take the edge off.
Max catches my eye as he returns his credit card to his wallet, and his knowing look nearly undoes me. He knows. Ofcoursehe knows. He’s been watching me wiggle in my seat all evening. And judging by the way his gaze darkens as he stands and helps me from my chair, he’s every bit as desperate as I am.
“Come back to mine,” he commands.
“I’m wearing my contacts.”
His lips curve and he threads his fingers through mine like he’s already decided.
“Fine. Yours it is.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Max
The drive back to her place passes in a blur. I count down the minutes until she’s falling apart beneath me.
