“That’s not at all what I meant,” he says, perplexed.
“You were just being polite,” I say.
Reaching up, he brushes a loose hair behind my ear, trailing his thumb across my cheekbone and tipping my head back slightly.
“I’m not bullshitting you. I like it. This place has personality. It feels lived in.” He shrugs. “It feels like a home.”
I search his face for signs he’s taking the piss, finding none.
The morning light illuminates his handsome features, the light catching the hazel flecks dotted across his crystal blue irises.
The image of him as we came together flashes through my mind without permission—his strong jaw clenched, his eyes half-lidded.
Up close, and now with my glasses on, I can see the shadow of his stubble and the slight creasing around his eyes as he regards me with an intensity I’m beginning to know well. His touch is tender and anything but platonic.
“How are your eyes feeling?” he asks, worried.
“Sore,” I say, my voice low.
My body thrums with the same adrenaline that had me climbing him like a tree last night. For a moment, I think he might kiss me.
“We should go,” I whisper.
He drops his hand as if my skin scalds and steps back, clearing his throat.
“Good idea.” He gestures to the front door. “After you.”
As I lock up behind us and we head to the optometrist, I think about tonight and how on earth I’m going to explain my irritated, bloodshot eyes to Anna.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gemma
The redness and irritation have somewhat subsided by the time I’m getting ready for April and James’s engagement dinner.
Fortunately, after a few scans, the optometrist determined there wasn’t any damage to my corneas and sent me home with medicated eye drops and strict instructions to avoid contact lenses for a week. Apparently, the crusty gunk around my eyes was an increase of mucus due to the contacts as a protective response to the irritation. Hot. Nothing sayssexyquite like excessive corneal discharge and a penis face-slapping the night after a decent shag.
I’m sure Max was very aroused.
To his credit, he stayed with me throughout the entire appointment, helping me fill out paperwork and asking questions where necessary. He even insisted on taking the same Uber home as me, stopping by my flat first to ensure I got home safely. He might be a cocky prick, but he’s a gentleman when he wants to be.
And, oddly enough, I enjoyed his company. Not just the naked, sweaty parts of his company that I already knew were worth my time, but the fully clothed, conversational bits as well.
The whole way to the appointment he kept chatting, asking about my studies and first job in marketing. I knew it was a distraction, and it worked. His barrage drew me out of my discomfort almost completely, so much so, I found myself laughing with him.
His overconfident swagger and wicked hands, I can deal with. Sex, I can compartmentalize and file away as nothingness. But his kindness and attentiveness? I don’t quite know what to make of it.
I turn off the curling iron and ruffle my hair to bring volume to the roots before swiping crimson across my lips.
Stepping back, I assess myself in the mirror. Thankfully, the glasses and bold lip draw attention away from the faint redness lingering in my eyes.
I’ve paired black pumps with a soft, high-waisted skirt that finishes just above my knees and a cropped halter neck, which leaves my back bare.
This is as good as it’ll get.
Now, I just need to avoid direct eye contact with Max.
“Jesus Christ, did someone fuck your eye sockets?” Will bellows as April pops the cork on a champagne bottle.
