Page 85 of Downforce

One that took me years to realize not every other child has.

It wasn’t until I went over to a friend's house in eighth grade for the first time that I saw how other parents interacted with one another. They were cold and almost robotic with one another.

Until then, I’d spent most of my time at home or at one of my cousin’s houses. All of our parents have a deep, wild love for one another. It’s not uncommon to see my dad or one of my uncles following their wives around the house like a lost puppy just to be close to her. Even after decades of marriage.

Without notice, the memories of my parents and family members fall away, replaced by memories of this afternoon. Max with his hands on either side of my head, leaning over me with that intensity in his gaze before he crushes his lips against mine. I had only one thought in my mind as we kissed.

More.

“What’s that?” My dad’s question startles me as much as the knock on my door.

My eyes shoot over to the clock on my wall.

It’s six o’clock on the dot and I have a feeling I know who’s on the opposite side of that knock.

“Someone’s at the door,” I say honestly, knowing if I lie I’ll pay for it with an obscene amount of ruminating thoughts later on. Not like I won’t have those already but by telling the truth, I can possibly save myself some head spinning.

“I have to go. Can’t wait to see you guys in a couple of weeks. Love you.”

Once my dad tells me he loves me too, I hang up right as another knock penetrates the silence of my apartment.

For some reason, I glance around, ensuring that nothing is out of place, and then run my hands down the length of my black leather skirt, straightening the non-existent wrinkles before opening the door.

Max stands there, filling up my doorway and looking like he was hand delivered to be my downfall. Especially, when those pink lips spread into a contented grin.

“I was starting to suspect you wouldn’t open up.”

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer right away because he’s too busy running his eyes over my body, pausing at the deep, plunging neckline of my emerald silk blouse. I tell myself I didn’t choose this shirt to wear because I always appreciated my clavicles and neckline and loved shirts that allow me to show them off as my best features.

Nor do I admit to myself that it thrills me more than it should when Max doesn’t hide the way he appreciates the way my legs look in this skirt.

In the majority of my workouts, I spend an inordinate amount of time cursing Charles out in my head for pushing me so damn hard. But with Max looking at me like I’m the dessert he’s been waiting to taste all night, I can’t help but to contemplate giving Charles a raise.

“We have a date,” Max finally says, holding up a cloth tote bag full of groceries.

“I …” is all I manage to get out before he’s sliding past me into my apartment. One moment I was staring at him, and the next all I’m looking at is air. That and my across the hallway neighbor’s closed door.

After peeking my head out of my door, ensuring that no one saw Max walk into my apartment, I close it behind me. I tell myself the only reason I lock it is because of instincts, not because I plan for Max to stay long.

“We most certainly do not have a date.”

We spins away from the window view that looks out on the marina. “Our kiss this afternoon says we do.”

“I told you I’m working.”

He gives me another smoldering up and down appraisal. “It should be illegal for you to work in that.” His words come out as a growl.

In that moment, I thank whatever foresight I had that told me to wear a padded bra underneath this shirt. If not for that, I’m pretty certain Max would easily see how my nipples harden.

“What’s illegal is you barging into someone’s apartment without their permission,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “How do you know I wasn’t on a work call with Norm and Edwin?”

His nostrils flare upon hearing the name of his agent. I presume Edwin is his agent. He’s the one who was representing Max on today’s call with Liam Waltz and Randy. The pair are still interested in signing Travis and Max to represent their company.

“You spoke with Edwin?” he asks, something dangerous leaking through in his voice.

“He’s your agent, isn’t he?” I ask with more attitude than intended.