Oh… oh!
Vibrations flood me, causing my breath to stop and my whole body to tremble. I massage myself more urgently, aching to feel every last shudder through my veins. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, watching Dean reach beneath me to finger my sex as I stay there on my hands and knees, rocking against his hand, begging…
Another series of trembles courses through me before the sensations slow. I tug my hand from between my thighs and lie there panting as the delicious images fade.
“Liv.”
My eyes fly open. I stare at Dean, who’s standing by the door, his suit jacket tossed over his arm and his keys in his hand. For a heart-stopping second, I expect to see Kelsey right behind him, but the door is closed. He’s alone.
And I’m… like this.
Shit.
I scramble up from the sofa and try to yank my T-shirt down over my hips, but it’s too short. I’m naked from the waist down, and a fiery blush shoots across my skin. I fumble around trying to find my pants, underwear… anything to cover myself… finally I grab the quilt from the back of the sofa and wrap it around my waist.
I tuck one corner in to secure it, then use both hands to push my tangled hair back. I attempt a bright smile, which I’m quite certain is a miserable failure.
“I… I wasn’t expecting you until about midnight,” I remark.
“It’s almost one.”
“Oh. I… uh, I lost track of time.”
“I can see that.”
My blush grows so hot I feel like I’ve been set aflame. It should be silly to be so embarrassed. Dean’s watched me masturbate before—hell, he’s told me numerous times to do it in front of him—but this is different.
This is weird.
My bra is still hitched up over my breasts. I cross my arms and try to casually tug it down again.
“How… how was the banquet?” I can’t stop blushing. I must look like a tomato.
He tosses his jacket over a chair. “Long and boring, but the food was okay. Chocolate mousse for dessert.”
“How’d Kelsey do?”
“She rose to the occasion and charmed all the right people.”
“Think it’ll help with her proposal?”
“Probably.”
For a minute, we just stand there staring at each other. I can tell he wants to say something, but I don’t know what.
I’d feel better if he’d just come over and kiss me and make some wicked comment about how I occupy myself when I’m alone. Then I’d feel a lot better if he’d tug the stupid quilt off me and slip his hand between my legs…
“Well.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m beat. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”
He goes into the bedroom. I sink onto the sofa and press my hands against my hot cheeks. My eyes sting with tears of embarrassment and anger, but this time I don’t let them fall.
Instead I just sit there and try to breathe. My disappointment in my husband is so sharp I can taste it, bitter and cold.
“Was it porn?” he asks the next morning.
“Yes.”
It was also you. A month ago, I would have told him everything.
We don’t say anything else about the episode. I’m no longer embarrassed.
Now I’m just sad.
CHAPTER SIX
August 28
iv, check this out.”
Allie pokes her head in the door of the bookstore. I push a few books back onto the shelf and follow her outside to admire the rainbow window display she’s constructed.
“Looks great.” It does, too—all colorful with big, cotton clouds and silver streamers of rain.
“Good.” Allie pushes her glasses up as we head back inside. “Hopefully it’ll get some people in for the book signing. This local gal writes novels that all have themes about color. She’s coming Saturday afternoon, so we’ll see if that helps traffic on the weekend. We could sure use it.”
“Business isn’t so great, huh?” I ask.
“No. And they’re raising the rent on this building at the beginning of the year, so…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Hey, how was your date?” I ask, in an effort to divert the topic from her dwindling business. “Didn’t you go out with Brent again last weekend?”
“It was great.” Her cheeks get a little pink. “Brent is nice and cute and a great kisser.”
“Can’t go wrong with any of those qualities.”
“You got that right.”
We both look up when the bell over the door rings. A plump, blond woman strides toward us, a sheaf of flyers in the crook of her arm.
“Morning, ladies,” she says. “I’m Natalie Bergman from Epicurean, the kitchen and cookware store over on Larkspur.”
“Oh, I love that place,” Allie says. “I got a bunch of stainless steel pots from you guys and some great napkin rings.”
Natalie beams. “Glad to hear it. You might be interested in this, then.” She waves a flyer at both of us. “We still have a few spots open for a cooking class that starts next week. I was wondering if I could put a flyer in your window.”