Overnight Wife(28)

All I want to do is slam the office door shut and lock it behind me. Slide under his desk of his and go down on him, tracing my tongue along the length of his hard cock over and over, sucking him into my mouth until he gives in and tells me what’s going on. Until he tells me where he’s taking me this weekend and why the idea of it has him so keyed up—acting so hot one second and cold the next.

But I can’t do that. Not here. Not while everyone else we work with is still in the office, and while I have Lea’s warning fresh in my mind—plus that memory of John’s ex with all her things flung everywhere, leaving in a car… I need to be clearing my head of him, not clouding it further.

So I open the office door and slip out without another word, closing it tightly behind me.

I don’t make it more than a few steps from the entrance before I spot Bianca across the office floor. Her eyes catch mine—was she staring? Watching the office, listening to us in there? My stomach clenches all over again, for a different reason this time.

But then she flashes a sweet smile and turns back to her own desk, and I shake my head. I’m just being paranoid. Imagining things. That’s all this is.

The only people in this office thinking constantly about John and me are the two of us. So I smile back and retreat to the workroom, shoulders squared, head up. Whatever’s going on between us, maybe this weekend will bring more clarity.

And if not? Well, then I’ll still have enough time to make the annulment deadline afterward. I try to ignore the heavy knot in my gut at the thought of that. It’s for the best, I tell myself. Lea is right.

I need to be practical about this.





9





John





Today is the day. I stare at myself in the rearview mirror of my car, waiting. I haven’t hit send on the text to let Mara know that I’m parked outside. I needed a minute to myself. A minute to wrap my head around what I’m about to do.

If I do this… if I take her with me today… Everything will change. And who knows how she’ll feel by the end of this, or what she’ll decide to do.

But it has to happen. I need to do this.

So why do I still feel so guilty about it?

Because this is the wrong way to do this, whispers a little voice at the back of my mind. A voice I ignore, as I hit send on the text I’ve already written. I’m outside, Mara. I didn’t tell her anything about this weekend—I didn’t want to scare her off, or worse, make her feel sorry for me. But I did let her know to pack for warm weather, and the moment she steps out of the lobby of her apartment building, I see that she’s done just that.

It takes all of my self-control to stay seated in the car and not jump out to grab her right away. Because she looks incredible. Every step she takes makes the blue flowing skater-dress she’s wearing flow around her calves, each swish flashing just a hint of thigh that only makes me want more.

It’s more dressed up than I’ve ever seen my jeans-and-T-shirts girl, and it makes me want to tear that dress right off of her. She climbs into the passenger seat with a smile and a wave, and before she can get a word out, I catch her around the waist and drag her toward me, kissing her cheek, her jawline, her neck.

“You look incredible,” I murmur against her skin, feathering her with kisses, dipping lower, toward the neckline of the dress, low enough to reveal just a hint of cleavage—enough to let me know I want more.

She laughs and twines her arms around me, her fingers tracing through my hair. “If I’d known this would be your reaction, I’d wear dresses more often.”

“You should,” I tell her, my hands sliding down her hips, marveling at the smoothness of her curves beneath the stretch of cottony fabric. My hands reach the hemline of the dress, touch bare skin, and start to inch higher, along her thighs.

She squirms a little and glances at the windows of the car. It’s broad daylight outside, after all, and we’re parked right in front of her house. But I don’t care.

“Maybe we should cancel,” I tell her, before I lean in to drag my teeth along the edge of her jawline, nipping her skin just roughly enough to make her gasp and arch up against me. “Go back into your apartment and forget the weekend. We’ll stay here, eat in…” I lean back to catch her eye with a feral grin. “I’ve already got plenty to devour right here.” My hands skate across her thighs, along the flat of her stomach.

She shivers beneath me, and it’s the most delicious feeling, knowing how much I affect her. How easily I can turn her on. A breathy little moan escapes her lips as my hand dips lower, grazing along the edge of her panties—I can feel the fabric of them through the dress, and I press a little harder, until her hips arch up against my hand.

But then she stops. Pulls away from me, with what looks like Herculean effort. “We can’t bail,” she says, though the hitch in her breath and the flush in her cheeks tell me she wants to be saying anything but this. “You said it’s important,” she adds. “Whatever it is.”

My stomach clenches, and my throat seals itself up. I clear it with a growl and turn back toward the road, reaching up to grip the wheel with both hands—the only way I can think of to make them stop touching her. “Bailing might be the wiser move,” I murmur under my breath.

After all, if we bail now, she’ll never need to know. She’ll never have to look at me differently—or worse, decide that this is all too much for her. I wouldn’t blame her, of course, after this. Who knows how it’s going to go? But there’s a tiny, crazy part of me that hopes she’ll stay. Even after she realizes what she’s in for.