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“I’m glad I didn’t walk them with you.” I lifted my foot into a flamingo stance and rubbed at my toes. “The strap on this shoe has a sharp edge and feels like it’s trying to cut into my toe.”
Max set down his wine and took mine from my hand, placing it on the counter. “Let me take them off for you.” He gripped my waist and lifted me up onto the kitchen counter, then raised my foot and unbuckled the strap to my sandal. “These are sexy as shit. But I’d rather you be comfortable here.”
I really loved watching him take my shoes off for some reason. It was a sweet gesture, but perhaps also a prelude to him removing other articles of clothing sometime in the near future.
I took a deep breath to focus. “Your apartment is nothing like I thought it would be.”
“No? What did you expect?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. You’re an athlete, so I guess a big-screen TV and maybe a room with a workbench and exercise equipment. I think I was expecting more of a bachelor pad.”
Max lifted the foot he’d freed from the angry buckle and kissed the red welt running across the top before going to work on the other. “Two years ago you would’ve been right. I had an apartment in Chelsea that was basically a nicer version of a frat house. Two other players lived in the building, and if I didn’t answer my door, they would knock it down. I had to replace the front door four times.”
I laughed. “What made you make the change?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I grew up. I wanted to be able to come home and relax. I play hard all day long. Coming home to a place that was peaceful became important. Though…I do still have the big-screen TV. Stay put. I’ll show you.”
He finished taking off my other shoe and walked into the living room to grab the remote. As he pressed a button, the wall of windows started to disappear as a large shade slid down. Once it finished, Max pushed another button, and a panel I hadn’t noticed in the living room ceiling opened, and a projector dropped down.
“It’s a blackout shade and projection screen in one,” he said. “It’s eighteen feet long. It feels like you’re in the game when I watch on this thing.”
“Wow.” I laughed. “Now that’s more like I thought.”
Max walked back over to where I was still sitting on the counter. He nudged open my knees and stood between them. “There’s a gym in the building, so I got rid of my spare room full of weights, and I have a cleaning lady who stocks the fridge and keeps the place from looking like a bachelor pad. So you weren’t wrong; I just hide it better in my old age.”
With the blackout shades down, the room had gotten dark. The only light came from the entryway, making the moment feel more intimate. Max swept hair from my shoulder and leaned in to kiss my neck.
“Is this okay?” he whispered.
I nodded.
He ran his nose from my chin down to my collarbone, then sucked his way back up with a groan. “You smell so fucking good. We better go sit in the living room before I get myself in trouble.”
I really wanted to stay right here with his lips on my skin, but considering I was the one who’d told him I wanted to go slow, it didn’t seem fair to do that. So I nodded, and Max lifted me from the counter and set me back on my feet. He held my hand and guided me to the couch, where he tossed a throw pillow against one end and gestured for me to sit with my back against it. When I did, he lifted my legs and set my feet on his lap, then began to rub the sole of my foot with his thumbs.
My eyes almost rolled back in my head. “Oh my God. That feels so good.”
“Between all the physical therapists and massage therapists who have worked on me over the years, I might’ve picked up a thing or two.”
He worked his knuckles into the ball of my foot, and I let my head loll back for a few minutes.
When I opened my eyes, Max was watching me. “What?”
He shook his head. “I just like seeing your face when you’re relaxed.”
“You might want to take a picture. Rumor has it that doesn’t happen very often.”
“We’ll fix that this summer. I’ll make sure of it.”
I smiled.
“So this taking-it-slow thing. How slow are we talking?”
I laughed. “Are you asking because you want to push right up against whatever line I draw?”
He grinned. “What if we pretend we’re in ninth grade, studying in your bedroom with the door open because your mom is downstairs?”
