Page 146 of Downforce

It’s the first time we haven’t used a condom.

“I have an IUD,” I remind him.

Something shifts in his eyes, but he nods in understanding. We’ve already discussed health questions. We’ve both been tested and are free of STIs. I’m not ready to touch the other conversation.

We’re not ready to talk about babies.

Max pecks my lips and then runs his hand down the length of my back, over my ass, squeezing it.

“How was dinner?”

CHAPTER 39

Max

“Can you believe she asked me that?” Annalise asks, holding a spoon of her favorite chocolate gelato in one hand and the carton in the other. I’ve taken to keeping it in my freezer along with some homemade brigadeiros.

We’ve moved from my bed to my living room. Regretfully, Annalise is dressed in one of my button-down tops and a pair of my sweatpants while I’ve thrown on a different pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

I’d much prefer her naked, but I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of her if she were nude in front of me. And I did want to find out how her dinner with her friend went. If for nothing else, it’ll keep my mind off of the weird feeling that passed through me when she reminded me that she has an IUD.

I shouldn’t have felt the lancet of regret that scissored through my chest when she said it. But I did.

For less than a second there’d been a hope that maybe we’d made a baby that would tie us together forever. A completely ludicrous notion that had no place in my mind, but it was there all the same.

“I can believe it,” I finally say in response to her question. Then I open my mouth wide.

Annalise narrows her eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to share her gelato or if it’s a response to what I’ve just said.

Maybe both reasons.

We’re discussing the proposal Jen made about Annalise crossing over from assistant to sports agent. An issue I had a feeling she would bring up tonight. When I’d met Jen earlier today, I got the feeling that she wanted to nudge Annalise in the direction of becoming a sports agent just from the way she talked about the job and kept mentioning the advantages and opportunity for career growth.

Annalise feeds me a spoonful of the gelato.

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not⁠—”

“Not what? Smart enough? That’s bullshit. Capable enough? You’re more capable than ninety percent of the so-called agents in the industry today. You have the connections. I’m certain with one phone call you could end up on the staff at one of the greatest agencies in the business.”

“That’s not true.”

I shrug.

“Because you wouldn’t want to work for one of the big agencies,” I point out. “You’re the type of person who would like to be more hands on, more direct with your clients. Also,” I pause, “you have a thing for underdogs. The ones agencies typically overlook.”

She lifts a brow.

We had this conversation before and she avoided it then. Now, I’m not going to let her get out of it so easily.

“At first, I thought you became Travis’ assistant out of boredom or nothing else better to do. Mostly, as a means to …” I stop because I don’t want to say the callous bullshit that used to run through my head.

“Be a groupie?” she finishes for me, smirking.

I hate to admit it, but yes. That is what I thought. “It worked for my mother.” I cringe, hating to bring up that woman right now. Or at any time. “She was friends with the woman who worked as my dad’s assistant early on in his career,” I add. “A former model.”

She nods.

“And you thought I became his assistant to meet hot racers in hopes that I’d marry one some day?”