As soon as my feet hit the hardwood floors, I’m reminded why I don’t sleep naked. Without the warmth of his body and the warm comforter, it’s freaking freezing all of a sudden, which takes the bathroom emergency up a few notches. Scurrying to the bathroom with my legs clenched, I quietly shut the door behind me.
I’m not sure if it’s a mom thing or not, but I can empty my bladder in ten seconds flat. I think it comes from years of having no privacy and no time for yourself. My ten seconds turns into thirty when the great debate starts in my head. To flush or not to flush, that is the question. Ryan and I had a rule that we didn’t flush in the middle of the night. Sleep was more important. But I’m not sure Mateo and I are at that point in our relationship.
Is it better for him to wake up to my pee in his toilet or to wake him up with my flushing now? Such are the deep questions of any new relationship. It’s important to know the answers to such questions—like whether you are a cat or dog person, whether the ketchup goes in the refrigerator or cabinet, and whether it’s okay to take home the shampoos and soaps from hotels.
But right now, it’s the great pee debate. If the roles were reversed, I’d want him to leave it. I need my sleep. But I don’t want to be gross and I know Mateo functions on little sleep, so I say a quick prayer and flush and wash my hands.
Cracking the door back to the bedroom, I hear his slow breathing. There will remain a little mystery in our relationship. I lift the covers and crawl back into bed, resting into his side, his arm coiling around me tightly, and I say another little prayer, this one that the morning doesn’t come quickly.
Unfortunately, I don’t get my wish. And to make matters worse, it’s a Monday morning, and my phone is already ringing—with Ava’s boy band ringtone. “Ugh,” I groan, and Mateo reaches over to the nightstand and grabs my phone for me.
“Ava, it’s a little early.”
“There are a lot of cute boys at the beach,” she shrieks. “I’m sitting outside watching them with their surfboards.”
This is her way of letting me know it’s over with her and Justin. Ava’s figuring out her love life, and I look over at the hunk of possibility currently slipping on his boxer briefs. Damn, I just barely caught a glimpse of that ass of his. He turns around, mouthing he’s going to make me some breakfast. I lean up in bed, lifting his shirt over my head, then listen to my happy teenage daughter. These are rare moments, when teenage emotions are in perfect alignment. I talk to Connor briefly, too, and learn that Jacob is still asleep. Even the fresh ocean breeze can’t energize that boy.
Mateo returns and kisses me on top of the head like it’s completely normal for me to be here, for us to wake up together. He mouths to me, “Where are your keys?”
I point to my purse, watching him dig them out, adding another key. Turning to me, he gives me a little wink. He doesn’t need to tell me it’s for his place, and he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. I mouth, “Thank you,” to him, and he points to the smoothie and plate of food waiting for me before disappearing to take a shower. I really wish we could play hooky, but Gage is in the office and holding a big meeting in a few hours. We both have to be there, and we both need to prep.
By the time I finish the call, I’m running late. Mateo must be, too, since I still hear the shower running. Maybe I can catch another peek at him. His shower is glass on two sides, so I have a perfect view, except the steam from the shower is blurring things like a censored porn clip.
I open up my toiletry bag and place it on his bathroom counter, catching my reflection in the mirror, au naturel. Sex with Mateo looks good on me. It didn’t cure my wrinkles or tame my mane of hair. But I’m smiling. Smiling from a place I didn’t think I’d ever smile from again.
His strong arms snake around my waist, nothing but a towel around his hips, and he leans down to rest his cheek next to mine, gazing at our side-by-side reflection. He’s wearing the same smile I am. My heart has that weird growing pain again, making room for the enormity of what I’m feeling.
His warm lips lower to my neck, but his eyes stay locked on mine in the mirror, watching him kiss a path, his tongue gently teasing me. Lifting my hair, he makes his way along the back of my neck, a shiver running down my spine. As soon as he gets to the other side, his eyes are fixed on mine again.
His towel drops to the floor with a thump, and the outline of his muscles frame my body. He reaches to the bottom of his shirt I’m wearing, and he begins to lift it up, slowly at first, revealing my breasts. I don’t make it a habit of staring at myself naked, but it’s like I’m hypnotized by him. He could tell me to bark like a dog and I would.
I’m temporarily blinded as the shirt goes over my head. But as soon as my eyes are free, they find his again. No one has ever looked at me like this before—pure, raw. I watch his hands slide up the curves of my hips and waist, his fingers gently toying with my nipples, feeling him poised at my entrance. He guides my hands to the vanity, leaning me slightly forward. This is not a good position for a woman over forty. Gravity is not kind.
My eyes close. “Watch,” he commands. “Watch how good we are together. Never forget.”
He invades me, my mouth falling open. One of his arms is coiled around me, the other is between my legs, demanding my orgasm. Our eyes lock on each other, and I’m not sure what I’m enjoying more—losing myself in this man or watching him lose himself in me.
* * *
“How do you want to handle this morning?” I ask. “I mean, do you want to stagger when we leave so we don’t walk in together?”
“Fuck no.”
Not even a regular no, but a fuck no. And he’s got the fire in his eyes to match the fire in his tone. “I don’t think we should flaunt our relationship in front of everyone.”
“Walking in together isn’t exactly throwing things in people’s faces.”
“I guess not. But what do you plan on saying if someone asks you?”
“Damn right, she’s my woman,” he says, cracking a smile and taking my hand. “I think if we are relaxed about it, then everyone else will be, too. We might be water cooler talk for a few days, but that’s all. If we try to keep some big secret, it just gives everyone something to talk about.”
“God, how do you always make so much sense?”
“The better question is, how do you come up with fifteen thousand different scenarios with plots and subplots and alternate endings for each?”
“I think it’s a woman thing,” I say. “It’s how we can multitask so well.”
“You don’t seem to mind my singular focus.”
Oh God, I absolutely do not.
* * *
I can’t say I wasn’t nervous pulling into the office parking garage with Mateo. As much as I tried not to look around to see who might be watching, I did. But Mateo and I are both professionals. We didn’t walk in holding hands. We didn’t make out in the elevator up to our offices. He didn’t smack my ass as we went our separate ways, even though I know he wanted to. And if there were any rumblings around the water cooler, I didn’t hear them. The true test is coming, though.
Certain executives and other personnel begin to gather for our big meeting. I take my place next to Gage’s chair. Mateo usually sits opposite me at these things, but he’s not here yet. There are about a dozen other people filing in. So far, no one seems to be looking at me any differently. It’s not like I’m wearing a sign that says I’m screwing Mateo, but it sure does feel like it.
Suddenly, Mateo’s warm breath lands on my neck, causing my toes to curl, as he leans over and whispers, “I keep thinking about how you taste.” Then as casual as ever, he takes his seat. To everyone, I’m sure it looked like nothing, but the muscles between my legs clench hard. He takes a seat and flashes me a little smirk, his eyes darting down quickly.
Shit, my nipples are hard and erect and poking right through my blouse. Damn this stupid flimsy lace bra! I pull my cardigan tighter, crossing my arms. Smiling, he shifts slightly in his seat to let me kn
ow he’s hard and just as uncomfortable and horny as I am.
Gage comes in, and everyone comes to order. I put on my glasses, and for the next ninety minutes, we are all business—Mateo, me, and everyone else. It surprises me a little how easily Mateo and I shifted gears. But as soon as the meeting ends, the gears shift right back, and getting into his bed and working on my list are the only things I can think about.
It’s not too early for me to sneak away, and Mateo put that key on my key ring. That’s perfect. A plan forms in my mind. I sneak out of the office, call a car service, and am back to his place before anyone notices.
I strip down and crawl into his bed, typing him a text once I’m settled.
I’m naked in your bed, waiting.
Placing my phone down on the nightstand, I wonder how long it will take.
* * *
“Now that’s the kind of service I like,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “I call, and you come.”
He flips me over, smacking me on the ass. “I seem to recall a spanking being on your list.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Will you really do anything on my list?”
His eyes spark. “Will you?” he asks. I give him a little nod. There aren’t many things I wouldn’t try, especially in a committed relationship. “Pick one,” he says.
Biting my lip, I roll over to my back. “Let’s make a sex tape.” Never in a thousand years did I expect that to come out of my mouth. I’m a mom, for goodness sake. If that ever got out, I’d be humiliated, and my kids would be mortified.
“You’re quite the exhibitionist,” he says. “First the photos and now this.”
It’s weird. I’m so self-conscious about my body, but those photos, even though I still have my hang-ups, have made me feel powerful. “We’ll just watch it once, then we’ll destroy it,” I say.
This is the high-stakes, adult version of pinkie-swearing, becoming blood brothers, a complete trust necessary between two people. This is the exact kind of thing I’d warn the kids never to do, and probably murder them if they ever did, and here I am suggesting it.
“You sure you don’t just want to have tantric sex?” he asks. “That was number 4 on the list.”
I start laughing. “I was so drunk when I made that. I mean, honestly, the point of sex is the orgasm.”
“I love that about you,” he says.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s used the word love. It’s never that he loves me, exactly. But my heart notices each time. “How about this? Let’s make tantric porn.”
* * *
“We’re tantric sex failures,” I say, lying naked across his bed, recovering from multiple orgasms.
I know it’s all my fault. Five seconds in and I was begging him to make me come. And like a good man, he wouldn’t deny me pleasure. So screw the lovemaking without crossing the finishing line. I know it’s supposed to bring you closer together, take you to some high plane of connection or something, but Mateo and I are just fine in our un-evolved state of sexual bliss.
As for knowing I was being filmed, that was a little nerve-wracking, to be on camera in the most intimate way. But I got past it, and it certainly didn’t hold me back. It was also a little nerve-wracking that the man had a video camera at his disposal, but he is the head of security, so I guess it makes sense. I didn’t want it recorded on his phone or computer. God only knows what cloud it would end up on in cyberspace.
“Should we watch it?” I ask before a little yawn escapes.
He cuddles me to his chest. “Tomorrow. You can barely keep your eyes open.”
He’s right. Sex makes me tired, and we’ve got work tomorrow. “Think I’ll go in late,” I say. “Turn the alarm off.”
“Already did,” he whispers into my hair.
When my eyes close, my heart, my mind, my body are all at peace again. That should’ve been the first sign all hell’s about to break loose.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SEX TAPE
My phone rings much too early. It’s Ava again, the second morning in a row. Is she trying to ruin my sex afterglow?
Mateo stretches out his long arms and legs, flashing me the smallest grin before his phone starts ringing, too. “Gage,” he mouths to me, getting up to walk to another room.
I answer to Ava talking a hundred miles an hour. This time she needs fashion advice. Apparently, the color of her toenail polish is clashing with her swimsuit, and she left some shade of blue at home. I spend a few minutes with her snapping photos of nail polish options. I love the names of nail polishes. Whoever has the job to name those must be the coolest person on the planet.
Listening to Ava, I watch as Mateo walks back in, no longer on the phone, but he doesn’t look at me. No sexy smile, no wink, no pat on the ass, nothing. I hear him turn the shower both on and off in under two minutes, obviously in a big hurry.
Doing my best to hurry my daughter along, I hang up as he walks into the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. His dark tan skin peeks through the opening, the edges of his muscles seemingly cutting through the material. “I thought we were going in late?” I ask.
“Gage needs me,” he says, not looking at me, finishing up the buttons on his shirt and tucking it in.
“I’ll come with you,” I say. “Just give me a couple minutes.”
“I need to go now,” he says sharply, walking straight out the door.
All the air leaves the room, and I’m left with the voices in my head. And the first ones, of course, are negative. What did I do? What’s wrong with me? I guess he fucked me a couple times, and now it’s over. The call from Gage was probably just an excuse to leave as quickly as possible. Screwed the old bitch, time to move on.
“No!” I yell at myself, flying out of bed. It’s clear he’s upset with me, but it’s not about sex or my body. I can’t let myself go there, and I won’t let myself be treated like crap. If he’s pissed at me, he should tell me why, not give me the cold shoulder and run off. That’s how a relationship dies. It’s not the fighting that screws up two people. It’s the silence. When Ryan and I stopped fighting, that was the real end; we didn’t care enough to expend the energy. That’s when you know it’s over.
Throwing on some clothes, I grab my suitcase, searching for the stuff I’ve taken out, then pack up and roll it to the top of the stairs. Ugh, why did I pack so many pairs of shoes? My size nines weigh too much, I think, as I grip the handle to pick it up.
“Don’t you dare lift that,” Mateo’s voice bellows from the bottom of the staircase.
I grip the handle tighter. “I can do it.”
He starts up towards me. “Where are you going?” he asks, taking two steps at a time. He’s in front of me before I know it, his hands on the handle.
“Let go,” I demand.
“As long as I have it, you won’t leave,” he says. “You’re too anal to leave it behind.”
“I’m not anal,” I snap.
He throws me a devilish little grin. “Is that why anal sex is missing from your list?”
He’s struck a soft spot without even realizing it. When I started to sense things were bad with Ryan, I tried really hard to make things work. I gave him space, planned trips, bought sexy lingerie. After almost twenty years of marriage, things can get routine. I thought something was wrong with me. He didn’t seem interested in me no matter how many sex toys I bought for us, so in a lame attempt to peak his interest in me again, I suggested we try anal sex. What can I say? Not even the third input could save my marriage!
“I’m leaving,” I say.
Mateo’s whole body blocks the stairs. His message is loud and clear. I’m not going anywhere without permission, but I’ve got a message of my own. A knee to the groin would work. Too bad Layla and Poppy aren’t here, because I could sic them on him. But it’s much easier to play on his soft spot. I know the man’s weakness—me—and it just takes one little word.
“Please,” I say.
His dark brown eyes quickly soften, and
he takes a step back, making room for me to pass. It’s a striking reminder how powerful I am, how much he cares for me.
He hooks his pinkie finger with mine. “Don’t run away.”
“You’re the one who left all pissy.”
“I came back.”
“Good for you. I’m leaving.”
“Emerson, you want me to run all over the fucking city looking for you? Because I will.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I say and start down the stairs.
“I’m not Ryan,” he barks at me from behind. “Stop testing me. I don’t deserve it.”
I stop on the stairs, frozen, a cold burn raging inside me from his words. The truth really does hurt—it burns like a mother.
Ryan never came after me when we fought. He would say he thought I needed space, which always felt like a cop-out, like he just didn’t care enough. But I wanted him to chase me. I know it’s old school and went out of date with the cavemen, but it’s ingrained in me somehow. I think it’s ingrained in all women to some extent. We want the man to pursue, to hunt, to fight, to capture us and not let go.
Mateo has the old school thing down. And I was testing him. Maybe I have been the whole time. Did I do the same to Ryan? Did I test him so much he got tired and stopped chasing me?
“I’ll always find you,” he says, his voice growing gentle. “I’ll always be here. I’m sorry I stormed out.”
I turn around on the stairs. “Why were you upset with me?”
Releasing a deep breath, he says, “Gage wants me to do some background on a competing airline. When I asked why, he told me he’s considering selling to them.”
Dammit, I really wish Gage would’ve given me a heads-up that he was going to tell Mateo. “Oh.”
“Guess this isn’t news to you?”
The sarcastic tone of his voice causes my guard to go up even higher. “Gage told me he was thinking about it. We discussed it as a family.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
The Sex Bucket List Page 17
