Page 37 of Curveball
Our hands are still knotted together, and he gives mine a little squeeze before he uses the other to add pressure to my back and get me moving through the house.
“Sorry this didn’t work out until now. I’ve been back in town for a couple of days, but the scheduling just didn’t work.”
“Today is fine. And you don’t need to give me a tour. We can just meet them out there.” I free my hand and wave it in what I presume is the direction Natalie and Dylan took.
“Hold on a sec.” Max takes hold of that hand I’m fluttering around and spins me to face him, both arms around me, his damn hands wreaking havoc up and down my spine. “I need to take care of something.”
I peer up at him, waiting for him to enlighten me.
His face lowers, coming so close our noses brush. His short beard tickles the skin of my cheeks as he hovers. I could easily stop him if I want to. But I don’t want to stop him. I want to make him go faster.
I stretch to my tiptoes and wrap one hand around his nape. The other I plant over the strong beat of his heart till he gets the hint and lowers his lips to meet mine. His touch is soft but there’s nothing tentative about this kiss, because this is Max, who doesn’t do anything halfway. Because he knows I want this, too.
His mouth sweeps over mine, firm yet pliant, giving me a chance to enjoy the feel of him against my closed mouth—until his tongue glides over the seam of my lips and I open to him with a low hum of pleasure. He’s heat and urgency and a slight tang of mint, and I meet him stroke for stroke. Tongues tangle, teeth clack against each other. We kiss until the slow steady cadence under my palm becomes irregular, and our breathing is ragged and choppy. When he breaks our connection and raises his face from mine, his eyes are glimmering and his smile is so broad, his dimple may leave a permanent crease.
“Better?” I ask him. Because I’m better. Hell, I feel so good, I’ve got a ready supply of residualbetter.
His face is still pleated with his smile. “So much better. How do you feel?”
I give my head a littlePalmer Sloan, you’re gonna want a whole lot more of thatshake.
“Enlightened.”
And then, like nothing extraordinary just happened—like he didn’t just shake my world and tilt my axis—he picks up my hand and moves us onward with his tour.
He gives me a devilish grin. “So . . . I thought you might like to see what we’re using for the foundation gala next month.”
I’m enjoying this playful side of him that I can’t imagine appears often. I play along and tap my fingertips to my forehead. “Of course. Now is absolutely the best time for that.”
Before ten minutes ago, I wanted to know all about his home and why he’s willing to share it with complete strangers instead of holding his event in some elegant ballroom—the way the casino night was. Especially since I’ve seen him as the homebody who messaged me from his hotel at nine o’clock on a Saturday night to buddy watch a movie.
Right now, I’d rather he push me against the wall and kiss me again.
But he’s pulling me by the hand and accompanying our exploration with wry and witty commentary—this is the foyer where visitors enter,here’s the chandelier that provides the light—I haven’t witnessed from him until now.
“Your place is gorgeous, but of course you already know that.” He gives me a quick smile.
“I was overwhelmed when I first toured it. Had no idea what I was looking for. I was about to take sole custody of a twelve-year-old and needed an upgrade from my bachelor townhouse. I wanted someplace I could comfortably raise a teenage girl into womanhood.”
“Was it the sweeping staircase that sold you? Because, right there, that’s the kind girls dream of floating down in satin and silk.”
“Oh, fuck. Don’t tease.” His expression turns wide-eyed and panicked, but then his dimple flashes, and the sight is captivating. I’m captivated. I bet girls throw their panties to him in the dugout. And their phone numbers.
I haven’t seen him this relaxed since our first night—in the bathroom of a glamorous hotel. I’ve felt it, though, every one of the past seven nights.
I laugh, totally enjoying this day. “What do you have back here?”
I step forward to where the back of the house is a wall of glass and one wide set of atrium doors, all leading to a sunny pool area.
“Okay, this ismywhoa moment. I bet there’re enough tables and chaise lounges out here to host the entire team—and their families.”
I pause to take it in, and when he doesn’t respond, I tear my gaze away from the scene to look up at him. His gaze sweeps down the length of me, and then across the flagstone patiosurrounding the sparkling water of the largest pool I’ve ever seen.
“I have. Not often, but I’ve done it.”
There are planting beds interspersed with tropical foliage, and a covered outdoor kitchen area is visible toward the back.
“It’s nice out here. Peaceful.”
