“Oh, God, I want you,” I murmur.
His eyes twinkle with a hunger that mirrors my own, and when he lowers his mouth to meet mine, I raise my head, meeting him halfway. This man will drive me crazy with desire. Max makes passionate love to me, and despite fighting to remain awake afterward, I drift off to sleep.
***
When I wake up next, the bed is empty. I grab Max’s pillow, hugging it to my chest. It smells like him, and I love it. Sitting up on the bed, I inspect the room. Across from the bed is a double window, which allows in plenty of natural light. Since we’re on the tenth floor, the view encompasses the San Francisco skyline. A few gray clouds hang low in the sky, a sure promise that rain will follow sometime today. Tearing my gaze away from the window, I take in the colorful green carpet, which contrasts with the elegant white furniture. On the nightstand next to the bed, I find a note from Max.
I called Mrs. Wilson this morning. She doesn’t mind staying at your house the entire day, looking after Grams.
Something warm and powerful takes residence in my chest as I read the note over and over again. This means more to me than he can possibly know. Smiling, I descend from the bed, heading to the bathroom.
I take my time in the shower, and wash my hair as well, which turns out to be a bad idea a few minutes later, when I realize Max doesn’t own a hair dryer. My hair tends to be on the wild side if I let it dry naturally. Oh well, nothing to do about that now. I go about finding Max, wearing nothing but a towel I wrapped around me.
Music blares from the living room, and when I get there, I discover it comes from some embedded sound system that extends to his kitchen. Nice. I could see myself cooking in this perfect kitchen. I inspect the glossy cabinets and the stove. It doesn’t have one single scratch. It’s perfect. Too perfect.
Over the music, I hear Max’s voice from outside. He’s on the balcony, and he’s quite a sight, wearing low-rise jeans and nothing else. One hand holds his phone to his ear. I stay put for a moment, simply enjoying the view and wondering how lucky I am to be standing here.
Finally, my fingers begin to itch with the need to touch his gorgeous hair, or maybe his skin. I haven’t decided which part of him I want to take advantage of first when I push the sliding doors of the balcony open. Max swirls around, looking me over from head to toe.
“James, I’ll call you back later,” he says into the phone, not taking his eyes off me. Then he clicks off.
“Now this is something I could wake up to every morning,” he tells me. Taking a step forward, he cups my face, sealing his lips over mine in a hungry kiss. The kiss grows more passionate by the second, and before long, his arms are around my waist, and I lace my fingers at the back of his head. Without warning, he lifts me up, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He walks like this to the kitchen counter, accommodating me on it. At that precise moment, my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything for almost twenty-four hours.
“I’m hungry,” I inform him unnecessarily.
Max places his palm across my stomach, chuckling. “Yeah, the announcement was pretty clear. There’s a cafe across the road, and they have excellent breakfast.”
“But I love your apartment so much. I don’t want to leave it.” I touch the sleek surface of the counter, sighing. “We can scramble something here. I can make something tasty out of any raw materials.”
“Except that my raw materials are just last week’s leftovers,” he says with a smirk. “I thin
k there’s three-day-old pizza and a two-day-old burrito in there. If you look hard, you might even find some week-old pie leftover.”
“You don’t cook at all?”
“Nope.”
“What good is it having a top-notch kitchen if you don’t use it?” I inquire.
“That’s what I asked myself when I saw the apartment. I bought it before I returned from London, and Alice helped decorate it.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. She insisted that a state-of-the-art kitchen,” he says, making air quotes with his fingers, “is a must-have. I learned long ago not to fight Alice unless I absolutely have to. Anyway, I think I finally know what to do with the kitchen.” His eyes spark with mischief. “I might not do cooking, but I’ll happily do you.”
His voice is low and throaty, fueling my own desire for him.
“Can you get your mind out of the gutter enough to feed us?” I ask, only half joking.
“If I have to.”
Max smooths his hand down my hair, and I self-consciously realize that my hair is a wild mess. I don’t have my usual hair products here, which means I can’t tame the frizz of curls. I groan when I catch my reflection in the tinted black glass of the oven. My hair sticks in one million directions.
“This is such a mess.” I desperately pat my palms down my hair.
“I like it,” Max says. “I missed seeing it this wild.”
I open my mouth, ready to fire back something sarcastic, but then I realize he’s not joking. He holds my gaze in his for long moments before he leans in, his lips brushing my forehead. The chaste, sweet kiss fills me with warmth, and I rest my palms on his chest. As we stand here, sharing this quiet moment, it strikes me how different dating is when you do it with someone you’ve known since you were a kid. I know so much about Max, and yet, a side of him is completely new to me, and I can’t wait to discover it.