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“What are you doing?” I asked, letting the shoes fall to the floor.
Max looked down at his phone and smiled. “Oh, I’m posting this one.”
“What?” I walked over, looked down at his phone, and holy shit, he’d taken one hell of a picture. Not of me—I looked like a hot mess. But the shot, me wearing his tuxedo jacket over my dress with my heels dangling from my fingertips, looked veryintimate.
Like the photo had been taken by someone who was there with meafterthe party.
“Wow,” I said, a little embarrassed because the sleepily flirtatious look on my face was apparently what I looked like when I was thinking about sex with Max.Is that my turned-on face?“I look tired.”
He raised his eyes to me. “Or something.”
Or something.I knew he knew somehow, and I could tell he liked it.
Which Ireallyliked, God help me. I cleared my throat and said, “Now let’s do you.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t move a muscle.
“Come here.” I took a step closer and raised my hands to his shirt. “Let’s undo your top button and untie that tie. For the picture.”
I looked at his Adam’s apple as I untied his tie, then unbuttoned the top button.
“Maybe the top two, actually,” I said, undoing the second button as well, feeling a dip in my stomach when I watched him swallow. There was something very sexy about an Adam’s apple at point-blank range.
“You trying to get me naked, Steinbeck?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.
I raised my eyes to his, and heat slid down my spine as he looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes, his jaw hard. My handsrested on the front of his dress shirt, the same place they’d rested when he’d placed them on his chest earlier.
I swallowed.
“No comment?” he inquired quietly, his eyes burning into me.
“Your chest,” I said, blinking fast and feeling off-kilter, “is incredibly solid.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s your comment?”
“It’s the only thing I can think of when I’m touching it.” I cleared my throat again and took a step back. “Smile.”
I raised my phone, and he still wasn’t smiling. He wassmoldering, at me, and my breath caught in my chest a little as I took the picture.
I brought the phone down and looked at the display, where Max looked like the sexy villain in a very R-rated movie.
“This,” I said, a little breathless as I looked at the photo, “is perfect.”
Suddenly, we heard footsteps approach.
“I thought I heard you,” Larry said, walking into the room with a book in his hand. “Hey, Julian.”
“Hey, Larry,” Max replied, and the fact that he didn’t correct Larry made me want to laugh. “How’s it going?”
I didn’t hear a word that Larry said as he rambled to Max, because I couldn’t stop looking at the picture. It wasn’t until I heard “I’m going to take off” that I snapped back to reality.
“What?” I asked, my cheeks warming as they both looked at me like I was out of my mind.
“I’m going to take off,” Max repeated, a smirk on his face as if he’d known exactly where my mind had been. “Thanks for being my date, Steinbeck.”
“I had fun, Parks,” I said, and realized I actually meant it.
I’d had a great time—when was the last timethathad happened?
