I’m forty-eight, he reminded himself. I’m not sixteen anymore, dammit!
“Yes, oh, harder!” she instructed, her voice coming from the edge of desperation. She was fucking his hand almost as much as he was controlling the thrusts himself.
Suddenly, he felt her body tense as a raspy scream tore from her throat. Her muscles clamped down on his fingers in rhythmic spasms, so strong he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to pull his fingers out even if he tried.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she said on repeat as she came down from her orgasm. Moments later, she collapsed against him, her head falling to his shoulders as a satisfied sigh spilled out of her mouth.
SEVEN
Marriage is when a man and woman become as one; the trouble starts when they try to decide which one. – Mae West
He was in the middle of a pleasant dream when his phone ringing and vibrating on his nightstand woke him up. His first thought was Barbara, but then saw it was his mother calling. He didn’t talk to his parents very often, and they were aging, so an automatic bolt of nervousness flooded his system as he grabbed the phone and pressed the answer button.
“Mom? Everything okay?” His throat was so dry, his voice nearly cracked.
“Did I wake you up, sweetie? I figured that dog of yours would have you up by now.”
As if Alfie somehow heard a reference to him, he stampeded into the room and rocketed himself up onto the bed where he promptly licked his owner’s face.
“Yeah, just getting ready to take him for a walk,” Luke answered, pushing Alfie back down the bed so he could lift the covers from his body.
His mom prattled on about a few things, asking him about Barbara and the kids before delving into the situation down at their condo in Florida. His parents lived in a vibrant senior community near a golf course, and most of her updates involved whether or not his dad had been able to shave another stroke off his game. He busied himself getting his clothes on and Alfie’s leash while she went on her long diatribe, only interjecting “okay” and “I see” where appropriate.
“So,” she then said, her wavering voice turning more serious, “I did have a reason for calling.”
“Okay?” The panic that had ripped through his body earlier revisited him again, making his spine and limbs tingle even more than the cool morning air.
“Your father and I have gotten a couple calls from your student loan company about you defaulting on your loans. I guess we’re listed as contacts or something? Is everything okay?” she questioned with concern in her tone.
His brows drew together as he thought about his student loan payments. “Those are set up to automatically withdraw on the fifteenth of the month from one of my accounts. I wonder what happened?”
“So you’re sure nothing is wrong? You don’t need money?” his mother pressed. “I can’t believe you’re still paying student loans at your age.”
“That’s what happens when you go to Johns Hopkins and don’t start medical school till you’re twenty-eight. I got a late start on stuff,” he explained. He had taken a long break between his undergraduate degree and starting medical school, during which time he’d married Barbara, had two children, and worked for his father.
“I just worry about you,” his mother continued. “Everyone complains about doctors costing so much, but they don’t know how much you pay for your education and your malpractice insurance and all of that.” She let out a deep sigh. “Sometimes I wish you’d just taken over your father’s business.”
He rolled his eyes. His father had owned an insurance agency. It was not something that appealed to Luke, but at the time, it seemed like the right choice for providing for a wife and children. It was after his son was born that he decided to go back to school, and because Barbara had a low-paying job doing in-home childcare, he’d taken out the maximum loans. They struggled for so many years, but he liked to think it was all worth it—heavy emphasis on the word “liked.”
“I better go, Mom. I’ll check and see what’s happening with my loan payments. I’m sorry you and Dad got phone calls about it.”
“It’s okay, honey. I just wanted to make sure nothing is wrong, and you don’t need help. Miss you!”
“Miss you too!” He said goodbye to his mother and hung up. He led Alfie down the street toward the Sea Breeze condominium complex. If they kept walking, they would be at Connie’s apartment in only a few blocks. He couldn’t believe how close she lived to him.
The night before at the club had been absolutely magical. They hadn’t gone any farther than making out and him getting her off with his fingers because the scene in the dungeon ended up getting a little crowded and distracting after she came. Connie didn’t want to get their own room—she didn’t like the thought of taking a room away from couples who might actually be swinging. And she stopped short of inviting Luke back to her place. They ended up hanging out with Casey and the rest of the club staff.
It had been the best night in his recent memory. He’d almost forgotten about the strange financial situations that had been popping up in the past few days. When he added the stolen credit card and the missing money in his savings account with the student loan issues, he knew something must be really wrong. After Alfie finally finished his business, he guided him straight back to his house so he could check on the account where his loan payments were automatically deducted every month.
He went to log in to his online account, but his login failed. It failed so many times that he was locked out.
What the actual fuck is going on? He realized Barbara had never called him back, so he tried her again. Voicemail once more.
The one time he wanted to talk to his wife, and she wasn’t around. Before he could stew about it much more, he realized he had a new text he missed while he was on the phone with his mother. Just seeing Connie’s name on his phone made his pulse quicken.
So, about last night... Ack! We should probably talk about it before work tomorrow, huh?
He couldn’t help the smile that spread his lips as he heard her text read in her voice. He never thought at his age he’d be feeling butterflies in his stomach, but here he was. And she was right. They did need to come to some sort of agreement. Work was going to be...well, he didn’t know how it was going to work. Pardon the pun.
You want to come over for lunch? he texted her.
As soon as he hit send, he realized what a stupid idea that was. He hadn’t been able to get ahold of Barbara and had no idea when she was coming. What would she do if she arrived home and another woman was in her house?
Well, she’s my employee so...
He scrubbed his hand over his stubble, which was growing in since he hadn’t shaved since Friday. You know what? Fuck it! he decided as he picked up his phone again. She has some serious explaining to do anyway. I’m tired of letting her dictate every fucking thing I do.
Connie’s text arrived moments later: Are you sure? The coast is clear? She sent a laughing emoji to accompany it.
He smirked at her joke, even though it wasn’t terribly funny to him. The sun was starting to ascend to its noontime throne, and golden rays were spilling through his kitchen window, highlighting the basket of fruit on the granite countertop. He could throw together a nice lunch. He texted Connie his address and told her to come at noon.
“Your family is lovely,” Connie said as her eyes trailed over the silver-framed photos lining the bookcases in his living room he had finally finished building. At least his wife wouldn’t be able to nag him about those anymore.
“Thanks. My daughter just got married—that’s why I wasn’t there when Jim interviewed you,” he explained. “We were away for her wedding, which was in the DC area. That’s where Barbara is from.”
“Got it.” Connie continued to glance at the photos, picking another up to study it more closely. “Can you imagine how different things would be right now if you’d been there for the interview?”
When he gently took her free hand into his, sh
e set the photo down on the bookshelf and turned to face him. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her waist until he could interlock his fingers. “I don’t want to imagine,” he confessed. “I know if I’d been there, then when I met you at the Factory, none of, you know, this...would have happened.”
She gave a half-smile and stepped back, making him drop his arms to his side. “And what is...‘this’...exactly, anyway?”
The corners of her lips twisted down when a blank expression appeared on his face. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts tumbling around in there to take the form of words. “I wish I knew.” She took another step back, and he took one forward, trying to keep the distance between them minimal. “I know we just met, but I really like you—”
She glanced down at the photo then back up again. He thought at first there might be a tear glistening in her eye, but they were dry. She cleared her throat; it seemed like she was struggling to stay pragmatic, to keep her feelings away from her words. “That’s the problem. I really like you too.” She scoffed, then looked up at the ceiling, doing a little head bobble. “I’m really confused about the whole damn thing—but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her words had feathers, and they circled his head, stirring up all the hope he’d tried so hard to suppress. To deny. It was there, though, and he couldn’t help but give it wings.
He didn’t speak another word, just reached for her again, and this time she willingly came to him. In seconds she was wrapped in his arms once more, his hands cupping her chin, pulling her toward him for a kiss that strived to convey the words his mouth couldn’t seem to utter. It seemed to be the only prescription to alleviate the confusion, the guilt, the unworthiness—all the negative emotions they had both projected faded away with each stroke of their tongues, each breathless pant for more of each other.
He didn’t want to stop. But what was even better: neither did she.
She finally pulled back, not enough to rip herself from his embrace, but to pin him with her blue gaze. “So what are we going to do?”
“Come eat lunch,” he said, his voice gentle, soothing. Truth was, he was buying some time to figure out what he wanted to suggest. Being the boss, the adulterer...the man...he hated the role, but he willingly shouldered the blame for putting her in this position. And it was his job to rectify the situation, to come up with a solution.
She followed him into the kitchen where he had spread a lovely palette of foods across the counter: hummus and cut-up veggies, little crackers, green grapes, luscious ripe strawberries and tiny cubes of cheese, plus two plates with grilled chicken, tomato and pesto paninis. “Wow, this looks incredible,” she said, surveying the lunch he’d prepared. “Of course you’re married. Single men wouldn’t be able to whip something like this up on short notice.”
He rolled his eyes. He wished she could go more than a few minutes without bringing up his marital status, but he understood: she was uncomfortable with it. He couldn’t blame her for that. Once again, it was his fault.
“So...I have to tell you something that’s a little off topic, but it’s been consuming a lot of my mental energy this weekend,” he admitted as he poured her a glass of wine. The pale liquid sloshed the sides of the curved glass almost to the point of spilling out but stopped just in time.
“Okay?” Eyebrow arched, she took the glass and pulled out a seat at the table in his spacious kitchen. She took in the gleaming pot rack over the island, the dark cabinetry, and the sunlight filtering through the window before returning her eyes to him.
He took a sip of his wine and set the glass down by his plate of food. “I think there’s something going on with my wife—who is supposedly in Washington DC this weekend, by the way—and I’m pretty baffled, to tell you the truth.”
“What do you mean by ‘something going on?’”
He breathed out again, trying to figure out how to share the unusual activity he’d seen on his various credit card and bank accounts. “When I ran into you at the office yesterday, I had just discovered someone had used one of my credit cards for a series of cash advances. I thought the card was stolen, but then I found more money missing from another account, and then there’s a third account I seem to be entirely locked out of.”
Connie’s eyes bulged as she took in his story. “So you think it’s your wife?”
He shrugged. “No one else has access to those accounts, and it seems a much more likely explanation than a stranger having hacked into all of it. Plus, I can’t seem to get ahold of her. I’ve tried a few times now. Left voicemails. She’s not returning them.”
“When is she coming back?”
“No idea. I thought she’d be back this evening, but who knows? I’m really...” his voice trailed off.
“Really what?” Her eyes darted between his, and he could tell she was picking up on the panic spilling out of them.
“I told you she comes from a powerful family of lawyers,” he admitted. “I’m worried she’s trying to clean out my accounts and leave me—”
“Well, the cleaning out your accounts part is horrible, of course—but would the leaving you thing be so bad?” Her lips curved up as she made her suggestion.
A nervous chuckle shook his chest briefly. “Of course not, but she wouldn’t do anything simply or easily. She’d dedicate every waking moment to making my life a living hell. I have no doubt of that.”
“So what can you do?”
“I’m going to have to freeze my accounts and try to get her name off them,” he said. “And try to get to the bottom of why she is doing this. It’s just so weird...and sudden.”
Connie shook her head. “I’ve been through a divorce—and trust me, it’s not that easy. You can’t just take her name off any joint accounts.”
His lips turned downward. “One of them is joint, but the others are in my name. She must have forged my signature or something?”
“Does she have any accounts that are just hers?” Connie tapped the surface of the table in a thoughtful rhythm.
“Yes. She has one I deposit money into every two weeks when I get paid. She doesn’t have any income of her own—so she gets an allowance. I thought it was pretty generous. It’s not like she has any expenses other than clothes and haircuts, manicures, stuff like that. She pays for groceries and gas out of our primary joint account,” he explained.
Connie nodded. He could tell she wanted to pry a little deeper, but he laid it all out for her. “I give her $2000 a month. She only spends a few hundred dollars of it, as far as I know. So I don’t understand why she is using other funds. I’m just...like I said...baffled.”
“If she’s as evil as my ex—and I somehow get the feeling she is—you need to do everything in your power to protect your assets. If you have an accountant or attorney, I’d make an appointment ASAP. Seriously, Luke...don’t let her screw you over like this.” Connie’s eyes were wide with her insistence.
He buried his face in his palms, then ran his fingers up through his salt and pepper hair. He was sure he had left it a mess, but he didn’t care. He could feel the tension bearing down on him, turning the tendons in his neck to stone and making all the muscles in his back clench tightly. “She won’t screw me...except like this.” One side of his lips twitched up at the irony of the situation.
“What can I do to help?” Connie’s gaze pleaded as she looked at him from across the table. They’d barely touched their food.
“Please, please eat your lunch. I feel horrible for dragging you into my seemingly bottomless well of bullshit.” He chuckled at his choice of words. “I’m sure you are even angrier at your sister for dragging you out to the club last weekend, huh?”
She smiled as she slid her hand underneath his, intertwined her fingers and squeezed. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I care about you. Not because we kissed or made out—or because you gave me an incredible orgasm last night. Not because you’re my boss, either. What I’ve learned about you so far as a
person makes me want to root for you, Luke. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. You don’t deserve it.”
“Are you sure?” he cut her off. “I feel like I deserve every bad thing that happens to me because I want to cheat on my wife.”
She shook her head as she lifted herself from her chair and stepped over to where he sat. She swung a leg over his thigh and planted herself on his lap, just like she’d been the night before. His hands instinctively went to her hips as his eyes met hers.
“I don’t know your wife,” she began, “so I don’t know her side of the story. But if everything you’ve told me about her so far is true—and you don’t seem like the kind of person to lie or exaggerate—then I believe she is emotionally abusing you. My ex didn’t withhold sex from me, but he did justify his affairs and told women that I had cut him off from sex.”
“So how do you know I’m not doing that?” His eyes narrowed as he searched her face for the answer.
“I’ve been alone with you how many times now? Three? Four? We haven’t even had sex yet...”
His eyes popped open wide as soon as she said the word “yet,” and his reaction made her giggle.
“Oops, did I say ‘yet’?”
He nodded and joined in her laughter. “It’s not that I don’t want to...”
“I know,” she assured him. “You touched me and took care of me before you ever thought about yourself.”
“So? I don’t see how that proves anything.” He was enjoying playing devil’s advocate, but moreover, he really wanted to know how she could put him in a different category than her ex—who sounded like a horrible person. And she didn’t seem like the type of person to lie or exaggerate either.
“You’re selfless, Luke.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and clasped her hands together before planting a soft kiss on his lips.
Turning the Tide (Eastern Shore Swingers, #5) Page 9
