“Trust me, from a guy’s perspective, it is.”
I smile and shake my head. “You’re crazy.”
We come to a stop outside of my building, and I turn toward him. “Thank you for tonight. I really had fun with you.”
“Any time. I’ll talk to you later.” He kisses my cheek, and it feels nothing like when Max did earlier.
The doorman opens my car door, and I slide out. “Thank you, Bernard.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Howard,” he murmurs.
Leaving the men behind, I head inside. My heels click on the tile as I make my way to the elevator. I only have to wait for a few minutes before it opens and head up to my apartment. Very carefully I lean against the wall and try to relieve the pressure in my feet.
I might wear heels all the time, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to them. I swear some heels are actual torture devices. Then again, as the saying goes, beauty is pain. The elevator slows down and comes to a stop, so I push off the wall, wincing when my feet ache.
I can’t wait to take these off for good.
As I step off the elevator, I take two steps toward my door but pause when I see him.
“What are you doing here?”
Max is leaning against my door, and it’s clear he’s been drinking. His hands are shoved in his pockets, something he rarely does, and his eyes are glassy. Despite him being a little worse for wear, he’s still handsome as hell in his tux, and for once his hair is still in place.
“Waiting for you to get home,” he rasps as he pushes off my door.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him as I step forward.
“Where is he?” he asks.
“Who?”
“Clint,” he asks, seeming desperate.
“He’s on his way home,” I tell him.
“You didn’t invite him up?”
I step closer to him. “No, Max. I didn’t invite him up.”
Max steps to the side, and I open my apartment door. He follows me inside and shuts the door behind him. I can’t help the jolt to my system when he turns the lock.
I know it’s a normal action for him, but somehow it feels like more.
It’s like the tension from the dance floor never left. Now it’s a living, breathing thing right here between us.
“Why didn’t you invite him up?” He keeps his tone low as he steps toward me.
“Because it’s not like that between Clint and me,” I tell him as I step back.
He keeps following me until I’ve backed into the kitchen and am stopped by the kitchen island.
“It’s not, is it?” He says it as if he already knew that.
Before I can tell him that Clint and I aren’t even dating anymore, he crowds me against the countertop, stealing my breath.
“You look so fucking gorgeous tonight. As soon as you walked into the room, you stole my breath away. Then when you turnedaround and I saw how little it covered, I thought I would end up in jail for fighting someone for looking at you a little too long.”
My heart races as his eyes drop to my lips.
