Max smirks, then leans his hips back against a railing. “I like looking at you.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I cross my arms and look up at him. “Well, I don’t like it.”
His smirk pulls into a grin, releasing those infuriating dimples. “This again?”
“What?”
He reaches for me, slipping a finger through the loop of my jeans and tugging me forward before I’ve realized he’s moved. He spins, trapping me against the railing with one big arm on either side of me. “This, Ms. Hart, is when I tell you that you say one thing, but your body tells me something else altogether. Ready?”
I pull in a shaky breath, then nod.
Because I’m obviously drunk. Too drunk for cognitive thought.
“Your eyes haven’t left me either. Honestly, they rarely do. You watch me when you think I don’t notice, but you’re wrong because I noticeeverythingwhen it comes to you. You try to look elsewhere, try to focus on anything else, but those gorgeous eyes return to me every time. Tell me about the last three plays on that field, Ms. Hart.”
I frown, trying to remember any play since Max showed up.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, that sexy smirk returning to make my stomach flutter nervously. “You push me away with your smart mouth and that standoffish attitude, but we both know it’s an act. We both know you tell yourself you hate me when what you actually hate is how very wrong you are. You dream about kissing me. About giving in to the attraction just long enough to get me out of your system so you can think clearly again. But that won’t work. I’ll never be out of your system… and you hate that, too.” His eyes search mine. “Ask me how I know.”
My heart stumbles over itself.
“You hate that no matter what you tell me, what you tell yourself, all you want to do is look at me, touch me, get closer to me… and I get that, I really do. Wanting someone so badly you ache for them is torture. Ask. Me. How. I. Know.”
I swallow hard, then give my head a subtle shake.
“Fine.” He licks his lips and my eyes fall to track the movement. “I know because you absolutelyconsumeme, Sutton. You’re all I think about. I look for you in every stadium, every restaurant, every downtown bar.” His gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes. “Every meeting I walk into I hope you’ll be there so I can get a few moments with you even though you’re probably just going to push me away again. I’ll take that rejection any damn day of the week over not seeing you at all.”
I suck in a breath. My stomach does that ridiculous swooping thing again and my heart just ricochets around in my chest like it’s lost all tethers that used to keep it in place.
“You wonder what it might be like if you just said yes. If you just gave in and let yourself discover what it feels like to be kissed by a man that wants you so badly, you’re all he thinks about.”
I shake my head because I don’t want that. Ican’twant that. I’vebeen there done thatwith Maxwell Cruz and all that came of our night together was heartbreak.
And a very expensive cab ride back to my hotel.
He licks his lips and my eyes fall to his mouth like they always seem wont to do.
He leans forward.
I wet my lips—
“Sutton.”
“Hm?”
“My eyes are up here.”
I gasp and look up into his eyes, smoldering depths of brown so dark it's nearly pitch-black.
He flashes a satisfied grin, knocking me senseless with those dimples. “Our food’s ready.” He pushes off the railing to grab our orders, leaving me properly flummoxed—and probably as red as the Indiana shirt I’m hiding beneath my jacket.
Chapter Nineteen
Max
By the time we get to the car, I’m relieved there’s not many people around to witness me pouring this intoxicated woman into the front seat of my SUV. It certainly wouldn’t look good to anyone who doesn’t know me. My muscles tense at that thought and I scan the area, looking for any paparazzi or passerby with cell phones held up in the air.
I can only imagine the headlines.
