“Max,” she whines, the sound a familiar plea.
My cock twitches, pressing against my jeans uncomfortably.
“Let’s eat.”
Releasing her, I reach for a slice of garlic bread, then place it on the plate beside her bowl of minestrone soup. “This soup recipe hasn’t changed since the owners opened this place up back in the seventies.” I dip my bread into my soup, then take a bite and wait for my girl to follow my lead. If we were at the club, I could make her eat. Here, I’m a bit out of my element, and it’s an interesting switch. Keeps me on my toes.
Without lifting her gaze past the food in front of her, she tears a hunk of bread from the slice and stuffs it into her mouth. “I’m so embarrassed,” she says once she’s swallowed her bite.
Again, I’m out of my element. If we were in the club, I’d make her forget that embarrassment by distracting her with my hands, my words, my mouth…
Time to get creative. “Tell me about why you were at the Fall Festival today.”
She blinks, then, after a beat, she rips off another hunk of bread. “I was supposed to meet with Jayson Greenberg and…” She purses her lips. “Well, I was hoping to get a chance to speak with Lamar Ondricek as well, but they both no-showed.” She shoves the bread into her mouth and gets that thoughtful little crease between her brows as she chews.
She’s obviously disappointed. I frown, hating that some punk-ass footballers made her feel this way.
“He’s notorious for doing that. Lamar,” I clarify. “You know that, right? It’s not personal. The kid’s a fucking menace.”
Her gaze meets mine and the hint of a smile dances at the edges of her lips. “Really?” she asks around a mouthful.
“Really. You don’t want that kid at Hart.”
She finishes chewing, but I watch her shoulders deflate slowly.
“What is it?”
When Sutton’s eyes meet mine again, they’re narrowed. “What are we doing here, Max?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you and me. Are we talking about players? Because… we don’t do that. We’re competitors. We’re not friends.”
“Iwantto be your friend.” I lean back and drape my arm on the back of the booth behind her. “I thought I’d made that clear.”
She sighs, lowering her gaze as she picks at her napkin in her lap. “You’ve madesomethingclear, yes, but I don’t think youreallywant to know that my agency is failing, or that without Emerson Bratt, I’ll have to shut down. I don’t think you really want to know that my shot at success has everything to do withmenaceslike Lamar Ondricek and Jayson Greenberg, guys that, to you, might be interchangeable—”
“Hey.” I reach for her chin, cupping her face as I force her to look at me. “I want to know everything about you, Sutton. I want to know what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what movies make you laugh and cry. What ice cream flavor you can’t get enough of. I want to know your comfort show so I can watch every episode.” She smiles, but it’s a sad imitation of the smile I love. “I want to know why you hate eggs on your Monte Christo but don’t mind them on your benedict. I want to know why everything is riding on Ondricek and Greenberg, so I can help you figure out a way to succeed without relying on assholes like them”
She laughs, but it’s a bitter sound.
“I don’t want to be yourfriend, Sutton Hart; I want to be youreverything.”
Her lip quivers and I realize I may have taken it too far. Dragging my thumb across her bottom lip, I add, “I want to know what makes your lip tremble like that so I can keep it from ever happening again.”
She swallows hard, then whispers, “Wow. You’re good.”
“I meant every word.”
“Kiss me again?”
I search her eyes for just a second longer, then lean in slowly, brushing my lips against hers in a soft, tender kiss. Unlike the first one, which was a frenzy of desperation and weeks of pent-up feelings for one another, I want to take this slowly.
I want to kiss her so deeply and tenderly that she feels each stroke of my tongue down in the depths of her heels.
Gripping her chin, I lick into her mouth, feeling her relax beside me, then deepening the kiss when she digs her fingertips into my biceps. We remain like this, just slow, deliberate strokes of our tongues, her fingers flexing and gripping my arms, holding me to her, until I finally break the kiss to pull back and look at her.
Eyes hooded, she smiles, and it’s the sexiest smile I think I’ve ever seen. Similar to the smiles I get out of her in the club, but this one is special.
