“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him. “Think you’ll make it for dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says, and then pulls me in close with both of his palms to my ass. He squeezes me and leans down to give me a deeper, longer kiss. Reluctantly releasing me, he says, “And the kids are going to bed early tonight. I feel like playing for a long time with you, okay?”
Heat flashes through me at what that means and I just nod at him, unable to form the right words that would tell him exactly how much I would like that.
“I love you,” he says, giving me one last kiss and then turning to grab his suit jacket that’s draped over the back of his chair.
“I love you, too,” I tell him back, not in that automatic way you say to a spouse because it’s a routine habit, but with so much feeling that it almost hurts to release those words into the air.
Zach feels it. He tilts his head at me, his eyes tender. “You know our wedding anniversary isn’t too far away?”
“It’s right around the corner,” I say with a smile.
“We should do something special,” he suggests as he takes my hand and we walk to his office door. “Leave the day after Christmas—ditch the kids with Randall. Just you and me, baby.”
“Yeah, we should definitely do that,” I say with mounting excitement.
Just Zach and me together—absolute heaven—and we’d be able to reconnect in a way we so desperately need. We got married the day after Christmas almost eight years ago, and at first, it was the perfect time to celebrate our personal milestone together. But once the kids came along, Christmas was all about them. The last three years, Zach and I did no more than exchange a card with each other because we had been too wrapped up in the kids’ experience at this magical time of year.
“Let’s talk about it more tonight. Maybe figure a place we can go to get away from all this.”
“That, Mr. Easton,” I say with a slight kiss to his lips, “is the best thing I’ve heard you offer me in a very long time.”
Chapter 8
Zach
I barely made it through the rest of the workday.
Not that the emergency board meeting was all that stressful. We had been expecting something like this while our legal department looked into Charlie’s non-compete he signed years ago as well as the prevailing and current state law. But fuck if the day didn’t drag by after seeing Moira in her feminine lingerie, straddling my lap while trying to get my dick out so she could ride it. I had to spend most of my energy redirecting my thoughts to avoid a constant hard-on throughout the day.
Lila didn’t seem all that surprised when I left at five PM on the dot. For once, she didn’t try to hold me back to sign or review a million things I hadn’t gotten to during the day. I thought that was either very nice of her because she felt guilty I got called away from my wife—not that she had any clue what we were doing—or she was working some other angle to get at me. While I still haven’t quite figured out my very own secretary, sometimes things seem so discombobulated in my life that I can’t help but expect the very worst from her. Still, I think I’m best served by just trusting Moira’s insight that it’s probably nothing and worry about more pressing things.
Like how fast I can wolf down my dinner when I get home and pack the kids off to bed. I realized today just how boring our sex life had become when my wife, who is usually not the naughty instigator, showed up practically naked under her coat at my office. She took the time to do that… for me, for our marriage, and it made me realize… I am going to drown her in pleasure tonight and I’m going to take my fucking time doing it. In fact, so much time that I might just claim her ass when it’s all said and done.
I’m slightly thrown off when I walk into the kitchen, thinking I’ll smell the wonderful scent of my wife’s cooking and the kids already sitting at the table waiting to be fed. Instead, it’s silent, aroma free, and empty. I lay my briefcase on the counter. Still clutching the small bouquet of daisies I picked up on the way home, I walk through the formal sitting room back toward the family room.
When I walk in, I am most certainly not expecting to see whom I’m assuming is Moira’s intern, Josh, sitting on the floor with the kids. We had not met yet, but Moira has been singing his praises. I struggle to remember personal details. It vaguely hits me that he’s from Boston and is completing his doctoral thesis. I can’t remember a damn thing other than Moira telling me every night that she would not have been able to handle this job without him.
I quickly take him in.