Page 58 of The Romance Line
I’m aching.
And he’s shaking his head, like he can’t believe I said Lucas was nice. Max lifts a hand, reaches for the collar of my black blouse, and runs a finger gently along the silk, barely touching my skin but lighting me up all at the same time. “For the record, if I took you out, I’d never invite anyone to join my date with you.”
I’m thrown off by that statement, the intensity of it, the passion of it. I don’t have a comeback, but he doesn’t seem to need one since he keeps going. “Besides, drinks is acop-out. He should take you to dinner. He should drive you home. He should walk you to your door. He should make sure you get inside safely. But before he does that, he should devastate you with a kiss like he can’t fucking breathe if he doesn’t kiss you.”
Forget aching. I’m outrageously aroused. My breath catches. But I say nothing still as he lets go of my shirt, finishing with, “I would never share you.”
I’m so off-kilter, because Max is so close to me, the hallway is so narrow, my boss is in the other room, and yet I’m not walking away from the very bad idea of him. “What if I like nice guys?” I counter.
He pins me with his gaze. “You don’t.”
“You don’t know what I like.”
He smirks. “I think I do though.”
A dish rattles from somewhere in the restaurant, breaking the heated moment. I swirl around and return to the table, putting on a fake front for the rest of the meal.
Fake because it hides this unbridled desire ricocheting through me as those words echo in my mind.
I would never share you.
When the meal ends, I say goodbye to everyone, then head outside to call a Lyft, grateful to put some distance between me and the object of this inappropriate lust.
But my phone is fading fast. The battery’s at one percent right as the car options populate. “C’mon,” I mutter as I try to grab one before the screen of death appears.
I’m too late. But seconds later, the scent of midnight wraps around me. “I’ll drive you home,” Max says, stridingup next to me on the street, having just left Kitchen Mosaic.
I wince, not wanting to take him up on it. Not trusting myself to. But having no choice.
I turn around and give in. “Fine.”
He sets his hand on the small of my back as he walks me to his car, like a man who’d never share me.
19
A PIECE OF ME
Max
The car is quiet for several blocks as I zip along Columbus Avenue, catching all the green lights. Normally, I’d be all over this kind of traffic luck. But tonight I’d like to hit every single red.
Something to buy some time. Slow us down. Figure out what to do next.
The silence hangs heavily in the car. I should say something to Everly. But I already apologized. Plus, I don’t want to talk about that guy again. I’m not sure Ishouldtalk. I’ve said enough, and I should remember what a bad idea we are.
I need her too much to act on these desires. Need her to help fix the mess I made of my public life. I try to focus on the drive, the surroundings—anything but the way my pulse spikes just being near her.
It’s nearly ten. The city is still busy as we cruise toward North Beach, closer and closer to Everly’s home, passingsmatterings of people walking along the sidewalk, dipping in and out of restaurants, bars and bookstores, chatting with each other.
We’re still not talking. I steal a glance at her, but that’s a rookie mistake. Now I’m thinking about how her legs look in that skirt. How the moonlight streams across her pale skin as she stares straight ahead out the window, quiet too. I’m picturing how she’d look in her home, dragging me inside, grabbing my shirt and telling me to shut her up with a kiss.
I nearly groan at the thought. Gripping the wheel tighter, I force out a safe question. “Want me to play some music?”
We’ve got all of a mile left, but I can’t stand the company of my own thoughts right now.
“Sure,” she says.
Without thinking, I stab the play button on the console to blast the car with the new playlist Wesley shared with me—Rock Tunes That Put You In A Winning Moodwill do me some good right now.