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Chapter 15
Max’seyesslid downGigi’sbody,drinking in thewayher yoga pantswereclinging toher hips. The shirtshewaswearing hugged her curves,drawing hisattention tohownarrowher waistwas.She had theperfecthourglassfigure,and itwasjustone morething thatsether apartfromChelsea.
When he’d heard thecrashfrombehind herbedroom door,he had satErinon thefloor and knocked,wondering if hecould help in someway. Butwhen Gigihad said shewasnaked,hiscock had paid a littletoomuch attention tothewords,hisbrain following up with an image. He had no idea whether itwasaccurate,butnowthathesawher,heknewhe hadn’tbeentoofaroff.
Thewoman wastesting hisresolve,and she didn’teven knowit.
All his life,women hadbeen throwingthemselvesathim,beginning whenhestarted playing JV football atschool. When he’d secured thestar quarterbackposition,tryingto geta girl tosuckhis cock had beentooeasy.Hisfriendstold himhewas theluckiestsonofabitch out,buthehad to disagree. Havingwomen comeontohimallthetimegot real boring,realquick.
Even asthey’dwalkedtoGigi’sapartment,hesaweverysetof femaleeyeson him. He’dkept his expression pissedoff,deterring anyofthemfromapproaching him,although hecould tellmorethan onehadwantedto.Of course,Gigihad noticed. She’dquestioned himaboutit. He’d denied it,but hecouldtell shewanted tocall bullshiton him.
ButGigi wasdifferent. Rightfromthestart,shehadn’ttried anylineson him,hadn’tattempted totouch him‘accidently’,and when hecaughther staring athimwhilehe’d beenchanging that morning,hehad enjoyed her attention.
“—Max?”
His eyessnapped backtoherface.“What?”
Shelooked downatwhatshewaswearing for amoment. “Should I change?”sheasked,suddenly unsure.
Fuck,no. Hewasenjoyinghercurvestoomuch. “No.You lookfine.Let’sgo.”Hereached for the handle of thesuitcase,pulling itfreeofher grip and stopping anyprotestswith ashakeof hishead. “Can you getErinstrappedin and push thestroller?”
Shebither bottomlip,andheturned around soshewouldn’tseethe erection tenting hispants. Sweatswerea badchoice.He opened the door,butstopped when shesaid,“LetmeleaveJen anote reminding herwhereI am.”
Fiveminuteslatertheywere outonthesidewalkagain. Jen and Gigi’sapartmentwasn’tinthe heartof NYUstudenthousing;itwasaboutfiveblocksawayfromwhathecould tell,reducing the numberof studentswalking around.
“How’d you getthisplace?”heaskedastheywaited tocrosstheroad.
“Jen’sparents knowsomeonewho ownsthebuilding.”
“Rentmustbea killerforuniversitystudents,”hecommented absently.
“It’sheavilysubsidized.”
Hestudied Gigi’sfaceastheywaited forthelights tochange. Her long red hair looked likeitwas assmooth assilk,falling in a straightsheetdowntothe middleofher back.Thecolorwasnothing thatcould bereplicated froma bottle. Herneckwasdelicate,leading hiseyetoher jaw. Shehad high cheekbones,which madeher seemregal,although hewassureshesawherself asanything but. Her lasheswerea shadedarker than her hair,framingthemoststriking setofgreen eyes.
“Borello,”hemurmured. “That’san Italian name.”
Sheturned tohim. “Itis. Myfatheris Italian.Mymother is Irish.”
“Huh. Thatexplainstheredhair then.”
Shepushed someofthathair backbehind herear,butdidn’trespond. Maxlooked away,realizing his mistake. She nowknew he’d been looking ather,had been studying her.
“Whatabout you?”sheasked.
“Whatabout me?”
Gigi’sgreeneyesboldlymethis. “Your family,your background.”She paused.“You alreadyknow a lotabout me,Max. I hardlyknowathing about you.”
Shewasright,of course,butthatwasthewayhewanted tokeep it—atleast,hethoughthehad until hestarted talking. “Myfamilycan traceitslineagerightbacktothe Mayflower,”hestarted. “Mygreat,great,greatgrandfather started hisown pen company backineighteen eighty-eight,in Wisconsin.That’sstillwhereallmyfamilyis,exceptfor myfather. Hewastheblacksheep ofthe familyand leftforSeattle when hewaseighteen.”
“A pen company?”sheasked. Henodded.“Asin,‘ParkerPens’?”
Henodded.“Yeah,that’sthe one.”
“Wow,”shebreathed. “Whydid your father gotoSeattle?”
“A woman,wouldyou believe… My mom.”
