Summer Indiscretions

by Tamara Mataya

  “Mae?” I step inside and close the door behind me. She faces away from me, but she’s under the covers.

  “Don’t be mad,” she says.

  A jolt goes through my body like an electric shock.

  Melanie Walker turns toward me, clutching the sheet to her body. “Hi.”

  Chapter 37

  Melanie

  The shock in his eyes morphs into wariness, and suddenly this feels more like a bad idea than the genius one it seemed half an hour ago.

  I snuck in under false pretenses, since he obviously wasn’t taking my calls. I planned to pop up from the bed, shocking him into giving me enough time to explain—and blocking the door with my body if necessary.

  I began having doubts when he didn’t come into the room right away, sure my cover had been blown. I wondered if he was going to leave me here in my underwear without giving me the chance to explain, but no way was I leaving before I knew for sure he was done with me—after hearing me out.

  Now it’s all terrifyingly real.

  If I pour my heart out and he rejects me, that’s it. I’ll honor his feelings and leave him alone. I just have to get the words out. That sounds a whole lot easier than it is.

  Clutching the sheets in my fists helps absorb the sweat from them. My pulse races, adrenaline and fear kicking my senses into a frenzy and I’m completely tongue-tied. The soapy, masculine scent that’s uniquely his seems to fill the room, and I get a little warm despite the fear coursing through my veins. How long has it been since we touched, kissed?

  Can he feel the attraction between us? It hasn’t dampened a bit. The force that pulls—

  He crosses his arms.

  OK, so maybe his anger dampens the force. But he doesn’t storm out, and I cling to that fact like a life raft.

  It’s now or never. “So, this is the hippie place?”

  His jaw tightens.

  “It’s pretty nice,” I say. “I didn’t meet the hippies, but at least the rooms are pretty.” I focus on the crystals lying on the table nearby and the way the candlelight picks up facets in the rocks.

  Seriously? You’re bringing up the decor? What next, the weather?

  Damn it. “How have you been?” I ask.

  He narrows his eyes. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

  “No. Not nearly. God, I’m nervous as hell.”

  His eyes are unreadable. Normally I get him, and I can tell his moods like they’re written on my heart.

  Right now they’re closed to me.

  That stabs into my chest like a serrated blade, but it’s all because of the way I treated him. I don’t get to take his pain personally. Even if he rejects me now, I don’t get to close down and not tell him the truth. I deserve his anger, and he deserves an explanation. He’s not giving me anything, and that’s fair.

  It’s all me. “I’m sorry. What I did was unmentionably shitty. You did nothing wrong. God, your picnic was so sweet and considerate. I was caught off guard, but that’s not an excuse. You making reservations was an amazing thing. It meant you wanted to spend more time with me. I didn’t feel worthy of that. The truth is, I don’t want to ruin your relationship with my family, but that’s not the root of the issue. It sounded nobler and forced the focus to external things instead of me looking at myself. I used my insecurities to push against us.”

  “You pushed hard.”

  “I did. But it wasn’t because of you or anything you did.”

  The muscle below his left eye twitches.

  I keep my gaze on his. “I pushed you away because I was scared of losing you. Because you’d find out I’m not the person I was in Florida. I even tried telling myself it was for your own good because I’d fuck up eventually, or you’d find out the real me, and I’d have cost you my family as well. That was arrogant and so none of my goddamn business. You were right about that not being my risk to mitigate. It was your decision. Then I lost you because of that, and it was so ironic and awful that right away I knew I’d screwed up.

  “But I realized that I am that person you were with in Florida because who we are is a choice. The person I was doesn’t fit me anymore. I can’t go back to her life. Her narrow, cramped, boring little life. I want more. I enjoy doing things out of the ordinary. I love doing things without overthinking them. I’m still myself, but the fear is gone. You helped bring that out of me, but it was there all along. I was scared that if I needed you to feel like that, I wouldn’t know who I was if we broke up. But I know who I am, and I don’t need you to be that person.”

  “Not to be insensitive, but no shit. You were on a nude beach when I saw you. You’re not exactly a shrinking violet.”

  “I guess it took me a little longer to realize that than it took you. Even if you never speak to me again, I needed you to know that.” My heart perks up. “I don’t want to lose you, Blake. I don’t need you—I want you. You’re the only man I want to be with, and I know I don’t deserve another chance to fuck it up, but here I am asking anyway. I’m throwing myself into one last attempt at earning the chance to make it up to you. Do you forgive me for being the worst person ever?”

  Please, God. Please, please. I love him so much. Let him see my heart and know every word is genuine.

  Blake’s gaze drops to the floor and he sighs. “We’ve got twenty minutes left.” He squirts some oil on his hands and rubs them together, agitation flowing from every pore. “I need to think.”

  He wants to massage me now?

  Shut up. It may be the last time he ever touches you. Lie down and take it.

  I ease down to the bed, glad that my tears are hidden when I put my face in the pillow even though I can see them hit the floor through the hole. The sheet slips down my back, cool air replacing it. Blake lifts my hair from my back and gasps.

  “What’s this?”

  I sniffle. “A tattoo.”

  “It’s a tree frog.”

  In a watercolor style. I nod. “Like the ones at Marathon. They symbolize transformation and authentic self. They’re always themselves, even though they’re constantly changing. I feel like that’s something I can relate to. I thought I was losing myself if I changed too much, but who I am—the core of me—is always the same.”

  His touch, agonizingly soft against the edges of my week-old tattoo, sends shivers roaring across my body. He’s so careful not to directly touch it in case it hurts. I can’t breathe until he removes his hand, then I gasp at the loss.

  “You got a tattoo for me?”

  “No.” My heart sinks. “I wish I could lie and tell you I did, but the truth is, I got it for myself. I realized I needed to change for me—not a man, or a boss, or because I thought I should to impress other people. I’ve done a lot of things these past few weeks to take my life back. To start being the person I want to be. To transform into the woman I know I am inside. You helped me see glimpses of her, but I wanted to tear her out of the chrysalis myself.” I snivel. “Maybe I should have gotten a butterfly instead, but the frog felt right. It still does. You were willing to give up everything for me. I know I can’t say anything to make it better, but I’ve been trying to change. Trying to be better.”

  “What else have you done to be better?”

  “I told my boss about the asshole at work who made it his personal mission to make my life hell. It was hard because my boss was the one who hired Thaddeus and they were family friends.” God, Blake probably couldn’t care less.

  His hands knead my lower back, and I melt into the massage table. He’s touching me again, and it shouldn’t feel this good. I shouldn’t get to take pleasure from him even in this way, but I do.

  “How did that go?”

  I sigh. “It actually went well. I also made a case to switch to Editorial instead of HR. I got the position. She liked the story ideas I came up with on vacation.”

  “Congratu
lations.”

  “Thaddeus was a large part of the reason I did the Switch in the first place. Mostly to escape him and his bullshit. Anyway, that’s done now.”

  He does something with his thumbs up my spine that curls my toes. “You said he was a large part of the reason, but not the whole part?”

  “Yeah. I’ve also been taking a martial arts course since I got back. My shins are covered with bruises from learning how to block.”

  Blake actually checks them. “These are… I hope you’ve been icing these.”

  I bite my lip hard. “Yeah.”

  “Why did you sign up for martial arts?”

  “Because before I left for vacation, I got mugged.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I filed a report and followed up. I wasn’t hurt or anything, just shaken up. But I realized when I got home that the experience was seeping in, making my control issues come back with a vengeance. Again, I’m not trying to justify it or diminish my overreaction. I just wanted you to know I’ve been doing things to change. You said actions speak louder than words, and I want to prove to you that I’m… No, I want to be a better, stronger person. Trying to push you away was more about my own insecurities than about thinking I knew better what you needed.”

  “Jesus, Melanie. I had no idea you’d been under so much pressure.”

  “Mel.” I sit up and face him, not caring if my tears make me seem weak. “Don’t you ever call me Melanie. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll always be your Mel.”

  “I thought Mel was a boy’s name.”

  A disbelieving squeak leaves my lips at his teasing. Does this mean…?

  He closes his eyes. “I forgive you.”

  “What?”

  “I love you and forgive you. I know you’re a stubborn asshole sometimes.” He shrugs. “What can I say? It makes life more interesting.”

  I reach for him, but he pushes me away and shakes his head. I’m such an idiot. He said he forgives me, not that he wants to be with me as well. That’s it. I threw my Hail Mary pass and he caught it—but gave it back.

  My heart sinks.

  Chapter 38

  Blake

  She nods and stands up, not looking at me. “I understand. You love and forgive me, but don’t want to be together. If you ever change your mind…”

  She thinks I’m rejecting her? I’d laugh if I could breathe. She couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve spent every moment since her office in hell, sure I’d never have her in my life again and hating that idea with every breath I took. If she thinks she’s walking out of here right now, she’s got another think coming. “Lie down.”

  “What?” Her voice trembles with something—hope, maybe—but she lies on her stomach.

  It takes every ounce of self-control to keep my hands moving on her back. “I want to kiss you so goddamn bad right now, Mel. You have no idea.”

  “I think I have some idea.” Her voice is muffled by the face pillow.

  “No, I don’t think you do. I’m not going to kiss you right now, because if I kiss you right now, I’m going to get fired and possibly arrested for fucking you in public. At work.”

  “Oh.” Her word comes out like a fucking moan, and I’m already hard.

  “I’m not going to lie and pretend what you did didn’t kill me. But we’re not children. We can work through anything life throws at us as long as we keep talking and don’t shut each other out.” I slip the sheet completely off the table.

  Her simple turquoise panties match her bra. I’d rather they were off, but I’m already having a bitch of a time not kneading her hamstrings too hard.

  “Do you have many clients after me?”

  “You’re my last one.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “Do you want to come over?”

  “You angling for a ride home, Mel?”

  “You wouldn’t get me all hot and then make me ride the subway home alone, would you?” She spreads her legs, and there’s a dark patch soaking through her panties.

  “Fuck it.” I flip her over and tear her panties down her legs. I need this woman. Now.

  “You’ll get fired or arrested! Is the door even locked?” she hisses.

  “No.” I kiss from her belly button to her pubic bone. “So you’d better keep quiet, Mel.”

  The tension leaves her body with the first long lick.

  I missed how you taste.

  I missed you.

  I hated what you did.

  I truly forgive you.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  I tell her with my tongue.

  Her legs fall open, and her belly moves up and down faster with her increased breathing.

  “God, I want to come so bad, but I can’t, Blake—not when anyone could walk in.”

  I plunge two fingers inside her. “This is the first and only massage with a happy ending I’m ever going to give.”

  She moans, and I cover her mouth with my free hand.

  “Shhh, baby. I love you.”

  Instead of moving my hand away, she nods and winds her fingers through my hair. She pulls my face back to her crotch, making me dip back down to taste her again.

  I’m rock hard against the inside of my pants—my cock actually hurts, it’s so hard—but all I want is to make Mel come on my mouth. Right here. Right now.

  Her hips buck and her head tips back. I curl my fingers hard inside her, right into that sweet spot, and pulse against it. I never stop suckling and licking.

  Her orgasm starts deep inside. The tension starts around my fingers and rolls outward through her body, unfurling like a flower bursting open until she’s moaning into my hand. The last thing to move is her head, tipping backward as she smiles and gives one long exhalation.

  I slide my fingers out of her. I clean them and her with a warm towel.

  She smiles shyly. “Thank you. I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Me?” I nip her shoulder. “You’re the one who left a wet spot on my table. Pervert.”

  “I should report you to the appropriate authorities.”

  I hand her the panties I took off. “The Better Business Bureau?”

  “My best friends, so I can give them all the salacious details and make them jealous.”

  “Put your pants on, bad girl. I’ll meet you outside, and we can get the hell out of here.”

  * * *

  “You missed the exit to my apartment,” she says.

  I smile. “I know. It occurred to me you’ve never been to my place.”

  “Jersey, right?”

  “Yup. You don’t get out here much?”

  “Not really.”

  “What’s that tone? You’re not a snob, are you?” I give her a teasing glare at the next red light.

  “No. But it’s weird how you can live somewhere and not really stray into the surrounding areas much.”

  “You work a lot.”

  She shrugs. “I guess. But even when we take vacations, we go somewhere else. We don’t usually think about staying at home and taking the time to get to know the beauty around us. When’s the last time you saw a show or went to the Met? Central Park? Why are you smiling?”

  I accelerate and merge into the next lane. “I was planning to do just that. Stay around here and check out some new restaurants. Play tourist for a couple weeks before buckling down.”

  “And then Shawn sent you to Florida.”

  “Yup. Funny how I don’t regret missing out on the beauty of home.” I take her hand in mine, and she traces around my knuckles with her free hand.

  “I’d kick his ass, but I’m pretty happy he meddled.”

  “He’s pretty hung up on Shelby.”

  She whips her head around, facing me. “Really?”


  “Maybe he was scared you’d meddle as well.”

  Mel scoots up in her seat. “You’re goddamned right I will. First chance I get.”

  Whoops. Sorry, Shawn. “Then I’ll have to keep you very busy, won’t I?”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  I park in my tiny driveway and turn to Mel, cautious hope blooming in my chest. It’s important to me that she likes my place.

  “This is your house?” She unbuckles and gets out of the truck.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have roomies?”

  I laugh. “Rent’s not quite as scary here as in the city. This isn’t an easy commute neighborhood, so the prices stay reasonable-ish. It’s just me out here.” I unlock the door and lead her inside the foyer.

  It’s a bi-level, more narrow and long than sprawling, but it’s a decent size. I follow her gaze and take things in, trying to see it with fresh eyes.

  There are hardwood floors throughout because I tore out the psychedelic seventies carpet as soon as humanly possible. The walls in the hallway and living room are a light mauve—not my choice, but I haven’t decided what I’d rather have yet—and it does brighten up the place during the crappy winters.

  Mel trails a hand over the back of the black ultra-suede couch and continues down the hall to the kitchen. Light blue walls, granite countertops—a recent upgrade, along with the stainless-steel appliances—and neutral tile floors.

  There’s a nook for eating, but I don’t have a dining room table yet.

  “No table?” She turns to me.

  “No, I mostly eat at the counter or in the living room.”

  “Hmm.” She heads to take a peek in the bathroom and stands in the hall outside the last door. “What’s upstairs?”

  “Bedroom, bathroom, another room.”

  She nods at the closed, white door beside her. “Spare room?”

  “No.” I take her hands and press her against the wall.

  Chapter 39

  Melanie

  My heart soars. If my panties could tear themselves off, they would, because I want him inside me right now.