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“You seem prettyperfecttome.”And shewas. ShewastheantithesistoChelsea.
Shelookedupathimfromunderherlashes.“Whatisthisbetweenus,Max?”Hervoicewas unsteady—unsure.
“Honestly?” Shenodded. “It’ssomething thatIknowI can’tfight—thisattraction between us. Iknowyou feel ittoo.”
“I do.”
“But…” hebegan.
“But?”
“But,I’mnotgoingtobeinNewYorkforever.IhavetoreturntoCalifornia,andmyrealjob.”For a moment,shedidn’tsayathing. “Gigi?”
“California?” she asked in a squeak, her eyes widening.
“Yes,” he said slowly. Had he not mentioned that to her? “That’s where I live. I’m only here helping out my boss with the new club temporarily. I’ll be going home as soon as she finds someone to run the place full-time.”
“Ididn’tknowthat,”shesaid,hergazedartingawayandherhandslippingfromhis.Shesucked inadeepbreath.“Ididn’tknowthat,”sherepeated. Hereached outforheragain,butshedropped both handsintoher lap.
Maxdidn’tlikethefear uncurling in his belly. “Don’tpull awayfromme.”
Her wild eyesmet his. “Howcanyousaythatto me?You’releaving.”
“Maybe,butI wantyou inmylifeeven if it’sonlyfor this shorttime.”
Shelooked downatthetable. “I thinkthis isamistake.”
Hesattaller in hischair.“Whatis?”hereplied,hiswordsclipped.
Shesighed.“This.”She motionedbetweenthemwithherfinger.“There’sdefinitelysome attraction between us. Ican feeliteverytimeyou lookatme,but…”Shelooked himin theeye. “I don’t knowhowtodocasualsex. I don’t know how to be in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere.”
Hefrowned.“You knowthatwasn’twhatitwas.”
“Iknow,”she whispered.“Butknowingthere cannever be morethana few weeks or monthstogether changesthings. What’sthe pointineven having arelationship if it’sinevitably going toend?”
“Everythingends.”Hesatbackinhischair,makingsuretokeephiseyeslocked onherface.“And what’sthepoint ofthewholething? The point is, wegettoexperienceeachother.Wegettosharesomething thatnobodycan change,orevenhavethe vaguestnotionofwhatit’sliketofeel.Havingyourbody pressedagainst mineis heaven,Gigi.Isn’titworthwhilehavingheavenevenifit’sfor justafew months?”
Hehopedhewasgettingthroughtoher.Hewouldhaveahardtimegivingherupnowifshe decidedthat waswhatshewanted.Herlips sankintoherbottomlipasshethought, the very image ofitsending blood rushing south ofhisbelt. Toofucking bad theywerein apublicplace, becauseiftheyweren’t,hewasgoing toremind herjusthowgoodtheyweretogether.
Thisconversationwasdepressingthehelloutofhim.Standingup,hewatchedherwatchhim. “Weshould gethome. It’sgetting late.”
