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I walked into his condo and holyshit. He lived in a corner unit, so the living room had full floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. Luxurious hardwood floors made from something unique like bocote, brick walls, exposed ductwork—it looked like theNew Girlapartment but bigger and filled with sleek, minimalist furniture.
“Nice place.” I cleared my throat and tried to be cool while I looked over at a kitchen that was like the size of my apartment.
And I lived in a good apartment, damn it.
There was a huge midcentury modern kitchen table with eight chairs around it, carved out of textured, contemporary wood. It was the kind of piece you’d see inArchitectural Digest, not in the apartment of an under-thirty bachelor.
“Thanks,” he said, leading me toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? Beer? Water?”
“Water would be great, thank you.” I leaned my hip against the large center island and set my phone on the marble countertop.
He took a glass from one of his cupboards and filled it. “So, how’s Larry? Did you tell him what we did?”
My mouth dropped wide open when he turned around, because how could he know me that well?
He grinned and shut off the faucet. “So you did. What did he think?”
“That we’re ‘Captain Dipshit and the Brainless Twit,’ to quote him,” I said, taking the water from him.
“Please tell me I’m the captain.”
“You wish, twit.”
A huge orange tabby walked into the kitchen, meowing loudly.
“Oh, my God,” I said, dropping to a squat as the adorable beast came right toward me. “What’s its name?”
“That’s Cookie,” he said as his cat immediately started purring loudly when I petted his head. “He’s kind of an asshole.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I said as the little guy leaned his face into my scratch.
“He is a cat, Steinbeck, not my offspring.”
“Says you,” I murmured as the cat rubbed against my legs and then ran in the other direction.
“Sit,” Max said, pulling out a stool for me.
When I sat, he took the stool beside me and jerked mine closer to his so we were facing each other and his legs were kind of...around mine.
I suddenly didn’t remember words, couldn’t recall why I was there or what I’d even been doing a second before, because his muscular legs that slept with mine all night long were now almost touching them again.
“So let’s talk about the sex.” His voice was casual, but there was electricity crackling all around us in his kitchen. I felt like the tiniest touch could set me off.
The ruby-red match tip, dragging against the friction, teasing out a fizzing flame.
“I’m not going to rate you,” I said, my body doubling down on its nervousness as he smirked at me like he could hear my every thought. “So if this discussion is meant to be an ego stroke for you, I’m out.”
“Soph.” His face remained unchanged in its patient, overconfident knowing smirk. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“We are.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
I sighed because it was obvious he was going to make his speech, regardless of what I said. “Tell me what’s on your page, then.”
“Okay.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “So when you said that kissing me was the most sexually gratifying thing that’s happened to you, it completely knocked me on my ass.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it,I thought, regretting the admission.
