The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

“No, that’s fine. It sounds like fun.”

“Alright. I’ll tell her to give us an hour.”



• • •



“What’s going on with you?” Max came up behind me as I stared out at downtown Los Angeles from the third-floor-bedroom balcony of one of the houses we were looking at. He put one hand on either side of me on the railing.

“What do you mean?”

He pushed my hair to the side and gently kissed my neck. “You’re being too quiet.”

“I guess I’m just taking it all in.” It was the fourth house we’d visited this afternoon, each nicer than the last. Though with the price tags the real estate agent had mentioned, they definitely should’ve been. I turned around to face Max. He made no attempt to back up, keeping me locked between his thick arms. “These places are beautiful, but a little overwhelming, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

Each of the places we’d visited had at least four bedrooms. But the overall living space was just so wide open and grand. “Why is she taking you to see such large homes? Is that what you asked to see?”

“I told her at least a few bedrooms. My family likes to come visit. And my financial manager said I should be prepared to hang onto anything I buy for seven to ten years. So I figured…” Max shrugged. “You know…down the road I might need more space.”

Down the road. He meant in a few years when he’d probably have a family to fill all this empty space. Of course, it made sense to buy a house you could grow into, but the idea that he’d be growing with someone else hit hard. There was a difference between renting a one- or two-bedroom bachelor-pad apartment like he had now and buying a multimillion-dollar home. That meant permanency, planting roots three-thousand miles away.

The real estate agent wandered into the bedroom. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” Max said. “Would you mind giving us maybe ten minutes to talk in private?”

“Of course.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “I have some phone calls to return. Why don’t I go outside and give you some time to talk? I’ll be in the front when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Once the real estate agent was out of earshot, I asked, “Are you interested in this one?”

Max shook his head. “Nah. It’s nice, but I feel like I’m in a doctor’s office. Too modern and sterile.”

I laughed. “So why did you tell her we needed to talk in private?”

“Because you’re not smiling anymore.” One of his hands dropped to the hem of my sundress and dipped underneath, slipping between my thighs. “I’m going to put that smile back on your face.”

My eyes widened. “I am not having sex with you on someone else’s balcony.”

“Of course not.” He gripped my waist and guided me to turn back around before his lips moved to my ear. “I’m just going to make you come with my hand. I’ll fuck you properly when we get back to the hotel. We’ll just take the edge off.”

“Max…”

I’d started to protest, but he fisted a hand full of my hair and tugged my head back. “I won’t let anyone see you,” he groaned in my ear. “You’re totally covered from behind, and no one can see my hand under your dress.” Without giving me time to respond, he slid his hand up, pulled my panties to the side, and rubbed gentle circles around my clit. “Spread your legs a little wider.”

When I didn’t immediately respond, he tugged harder on my hair, and my body sparked to life. “Open and hold onto the railing with two hands. Don’t let go.”

Whatever trepidation I had disappeared, right along with my shame. I spread my legs and grabbed the rail.

Max’s voice was gruff as he ran his fingers up and down the length of me. “You’re so wet for me already.” He slipped one finger inside and glided in and out a few times before adding a second. “Someday soon, I want to watch you do this to yourself. Lie on my bed, legs spread wide apart, and put your fingers inside yourself. Will you do that for me?”

I nodded. In the moment, I would have told him I’d do anything he asked. My body was climbing so fast and furious, I just needed another minute. Max pulled his fingers all the way out and plunged back in with three. And suddenly I didn’t need those sixty seconds after all. He pumped once, then twice, and then I was falling over the edge. I hadn’t even realized I’d made a sound until a hand covered my mouth.

After, I’d barely caught my breath when Max turned me around.

He smiled. “Better?”

When I didn’t respond, he chuckled. “Come on. Let me clean you up in the bathroom before the agent comes looking for us.”

Two hours later, we were back in Max’s hotel suite and had sex for the second time today. I laid with my head on his chest while he stroked my hair.

“Will you come back with me next month to help find an apartment?” he asked.

“If I can. Can I get back to you about it?”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

“What are you laughing about?”

“You should’ve been a man. You’ve perfected the art of not committing to anything.”

I sighed. “Sorry.”