Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
She starts to laugh before she catches herself and clamps her lips together. She inhales, like she’s going to say something, but after a pause, she just shakes her head. “I had fun tonight,” she says. “A lot of fun.”
“I know.” My smile widens.
She rolls her eyes, but she smiles, too. “I just… I don’t know if I want this yet, John. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“I am,” I tell her. “And I’m never wrong.”
She sighs, but she reaches down to twine her fingers through mine at the same time. “For some insane reason, I’m starting to hope you might be right,” she admits, her voice soft and low.
We pull up outside her house, and I lean over to cup her chin, tilting her face toward mine and pulling her into a long, slow, searing kiss. She melts against me, her eyes fluttering shut. But I don’t close mine. I keep them focused on her. On my goal.
I know what I want, after all. And I’m good at getting it.
We draw apart, just as my phone starts to buzz. She glances at it, but it’s facedown, so she can’t see whose name is on the screen. “Do you want to get that?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Later.” Then I draw her back to me, kiss her again, her lips parting beneath mine, melting. I lose track of time, of anything but the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her in my arms.
My hands slide down over her curves, toward her belly, past it. I pause at the hem of her jeans, and I feel her arch up against me, feel her starting to breathe harder in anticipation. But before things get too hot and heavy again, I draw back and flash her a sly grin.
“Think of me tonight when you’re touching yourself,” I tell her. “Tomorrow, I’ll want details.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t protest. Then I kiss her once more and hit the button to open her door. “Goodnight, John,” she says, her voice hitching on that last word.
“Sleep well, wife.” I have time to catch the tail end of her smile, before she turns toward her house. I watch to make sure she gets inside safely. Before she closes the door behind herself, I notice her check back over her shoulder, looking at me one last time.
That only makes my smile widen. I know she’s into this. She may not know it yet, but she wants this marriage every bit as much as I do.
If perhaps not for exactly the same reasons.
My phone starts to buzz again, and I frown, shutting my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose for a moment. I ignore the call, letting it go to voicemail, preferring to text rather than talk. I did what you wanted. I’ll bring her to meet you next weekend.
The moment it finishes sending, I shut my phone off, unwilling to deal with the inevitable fallout that will no doubt cause. Then I heave another deep sigh as I pull away from the curb, Mara’s house vanishing in my rearview mirror, and wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
8
Mara
After a week of working together, I’m still not sure how I feel about… well, any of this. But I love my work, and I’ve been really enjoying getting my hands dirty in the shop every day. Not to mention, training Daniel has been fun—he’s a fast learner, and ever since his first mishap with the machinery, he’s been good about asking me for help when he tries out any of the machines for the first time.
I can’t deny that it’s been nice to get to know John better, too. Most nights of the week, I stay late, and he stays in his own office until the whole place clears out. Only when there’s nobody else in the building—per my request, since the last thing I want people thinking is that I’m just some bimbo who slept her way into a job—does he come and find me, usually working next to me at the bench until I’m satisfied my work is done for the evening.
Sometimes we do other things on the bench, after the work is finished. More reasons I don’t want any of our coworkers to know the exact nature of our relationship.
But I still haven’t taken the ring off. And neither has he, I’ve noticed.
It’s raised more than a few eyebrows around the office. But at least I haven’t seen any media leaks about it yet. We seem to have lucked out in terms of avoiding the paparazzi’s attention. Part of me knows it’s only a matter of time before someone sees us together or notices John’s ring finger and starts to ask questions.
But for the moment, I’m just trying to do what John suggested after that first night out together—our first date, kind of. You can let yourself enjoy this. And I’ve been trying to.