The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland

I laughed. “What made you make the change?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I grew up. I wanted to be able to come home and relax. I play hard all day long. Coming home to a place that was peaceful became important. Though…I do still have the big-screen TV. Stay put. I’ll show you.”

He finished taking off my other shoe and walked into the living room to grab the remote. As he pressed a button, the wall of windows started to disappear as a large shade slid down. Once it finished, Max pushed another button, and a panel I hadn’t noticed in the living room ceiling opened, and a projector dropped down.

“It’s a blackout shade and projection screen in one,” he said. “It’s eighteen feet long. It feels like you’re in the game when I watch on this thing.”

“Wow.” I laughed. “Now that’s more like I thought.”

Max walked back over to where I was still sitting on the counter. He nudged open my knees and stood between them. “There’s a gym in the building, so I got rid of my spare room full of weights, and I have a cleaning lady who stocks the fridge and keeps the place from looking like a bachelor pad. So you weren’t wrong; I just hide it better in my old age.”

With the blackout shades down, the room had gotten dark. The only light came from the entryway, making the moment feel more intimate. Max swept hair from my shoulder and leaned in to kiss my neck.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

I nodded.

He ran his nose from my chin down to my collarbone, then sucked his way back up with a groan. “You smell so fucking good. We better go sit in the living room before I get myself in trouble.”

I really wanted to stay right here with his lips on my skin, but considering I was the one who’d told him I wanted to go slow, it didn’t seem fair to do that. So I nodded, and Max lifted me from the counter and set me back on my feet. He held my hand and guided me to the couch, where he tossed a throw pillow against one end and gestured for me to sit with my back against it. When I did, he lifted my legs and set my feet on his lap, then began to rub the sole of my foot with his thumbs.

My eyes almost rolled back in my head. “Oh my God. That feels so good.”

“Between all the physical therapists and massage therapists who have worked on me over the years, I might’ve picked up a thing or two.”

He worked his knuckles into the ball of my foot, and I let my head loll back for a few minutes.

When I opened my eyes, Max was watching me. “What?”

He shook his head. “I just like seeing your face when you’re relaxed.”

“You might want to take a picture. Rumor has it that doesn’t happen very often.”

“We’ll fix that this summer. I’ll make sure of it.”

I smiled.

“So this taking-it-slow thing. How slow are we talking?”

I laughed. “Are you asking because you want to push right up against whatever line I draw?”

He grinned. “What if we pretend we’re in ninth grade, studying in your bedroom with the door open because your mom is downstairs?”

I snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I get to make out with you and cop a quick feel, but I can’t push it too far because your mom is right in the other room.”

“I don’t think our ninth-grade experiences were exactly the same.”

Max crooked his finger. “Come here.”

“Where?”

He patted his lap. “Right here. It involves dry humping, too.”

It was absolutely impossible to resist this man’s grin. So when he held out his hand, I took it and followed his lead to straddle his lap.

He smiled. “Scooch your ass up a little.”

I did and felt a prominent bulge press between my legs.

Max closed his eyes. “Oh yeah. Much better.”

“You’re crazy.”

He held one finger to his lips. “Shhh. Your mom might hear.”

For the next half hour, we sat on the couch and made out like two horny teenagers. At one point, he began to move my hips back and forth over what had become a full-fledged erection. I was so worked up, and the friction felt so good, I started to worry I might come, so I pulled back the reins.

Max groaned. “Did you hear Mom coming?”

“No, but I thought I might…you know.”

He raised a brow. “Would that have been so terrible?”

“I’m just trying to play fair.”

“Don’t worry about fair with me. Just take what you want. We won’t be keeping score.”

Things stayed calmer after that. Probably because I shifted off of his lap and was no longer grinding on his dick. We talked for a long time, never having an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Eventually, I said I needed to get going. Max called an Uber and insisted on walking me down and making eye contact with the driver. But he stopped short of threatening harm if he didn’t see me home safely.

Max opened the car door and kissed my forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to send me your list.”

“List?”

“The things you’ve been putting off that you want to do this summer.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’ll send it to you, but then you should add some things, too.”