Operation Foreplay (11 page)

“Now you’re the one wearing too many clothes.” I ran my hand down my body and began rubbing myself between my legs.

“I want to watch.” He backed up, pulled the chair from the window and placed it at the foot of the bed, and settled in with his legs spread, his elbows on the arms and his hazel eyes on me. His hands tapped the fabric lightly and a small smile spread across his face. “Please proceed.”

I placed one foot on each of his knees and teased my nipples before placing a finger in my mouth and sucking hard. A string of saliva followed my hand down my stomach. Spreading my legs wide, I worked myself with my other hand. He began massaging my feet and I could see his pants were straining with excitement. I inserted one finger and moved it slowly in and out while I kept eye contact.

“Faster.”

I did as I was told and once again found myself on the edge of insanity. I watched as he gripped himself and joined my pace. Without warning, he grabbed my legs and pulled me off the bed onto his lap.

“Now slow.”

With my knees settled in on either side of him, he slid easily inside me. Eyes locked on his, a small moan escaped my mouth before he took my mouth with his. There was nowhere else I wanted to be and when he whispered that he loved me I almost said it back.

I’d all but lost my resolve.

The next morning, I woke up without him next to me. My eyes were barely able to make out the time on his bedside clock that sat right next to a picture of his wife. I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head.

“Problem?” He walked in wearing a pair of tight boxer briefs and holding two cups of coffee.

“Nope.” I lied as I took the cup from him and watched as he noticed the offending photo.

“Liar.” He settled into the chair that was still fixed at the foot of the bed and tossed me an envelope.

“What’s this? Payment for services rendered?” I placed the coffee on the table, picked up the envelope, and looked inside. I pulled out a folded packet of papers and opened them.

“I’m filing those tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” I was holding his divorce papers in my hand.

“Dead serious.” He put the coffee down and climbed into bed next to me. “I told you I was going to do it and I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. You deserve better than dinners in dark, out-of-the-way restaurants and shady office sex. And I want to give you what you deserve.”

“Which is?” I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t believe that everything I’d wished for over the past months was literally being dropped in my lap.

“Which is”—he took the papers, stuffed them back in the envelope, and placed them on the table next to my coffee—“a date with a man in the middle of the afternoon.” He kissed my neck. “A bed you don’t have to run from at two in the morning.” He kissed my collarbone. “A night on the town with all eyes on you and not who you’re with.” He pulled the blanket I’d been using to cover my breasts down to my waist.

Sun streamed through the window and I leaned back with him resting on top of me. My head swam and blared a warning. A voice in the back of my head attempted to remind me that I shouldn’t celebrate until the ring was off the finger. In that moment, kissing him, I didn’t listen.

*  *  *

Friday morning, I rushed out of the building, heels from the night before still in hand, with my shirt barely buttoned enough to cover my boobs. We’d gone out to dinner to celebrate the impending divorce proceedings. After all, we needed fuel. Spending nearly twenty-four hours in bed gave me an appetite. Out of breath from the anxiety of almost being caught—again—I was quite certain my makeup was smeared and my teeth had that sickly film that comes when you forgo brushing your teeth. But that’s that happens when your boss’s wife comes home from the Hamptons three days early.

Larry, the doorman, already had Marco waiting for me and he smiled knowingly as I rushed past and all but dove into the vehicle. It’s like they say: a great pair of shoes will help you conquer the world but what happens when you’re in bed with your boss and his wife comes home from the Hamptons three days early? I’ll tell you what. Dress faster than you thought humanly possible and exit the apartment via the service elevator like your life depended on it. Sure, his maid gave me a dirty look on the way out but she loved Zac like a son so she wasn’t about to spill the beans. Thank God for Larry the doorman and Zachary Waterman’s team of look-the-other-ways.

I was only a block away from the apartment on the way to the train station when Zachary called me.

“I’m so sorry about that. Rita wasn’t supposed to come back until Sunday.”

I pulled my compact out of my purse and tried to make my face presentable as I ignored the dread spreading through me. “No problem. Not the first time I had to rush out in the middle of a blow job. I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“It was a very good blow job.” I could hear the frustration in his voice. “I’m still feeling the aftereffects of not finishing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You left your panties here.”

I froze and shoved my hand under my skirt. Sure enough, I was going commando. Again, not the first time. “I left those as a souvenir. I left my bag, too.”

“The bag’s in the trunk of the car. You know, if you keep leaving trinkets here, my wife may come across one of them someday.”

“And that would be bad.” I slicked gloss across my lips. I hated that I had to worry about stupid shit like leaving things behind.

“I don’t mind bad.”

“I know you don’t. There are a lot of things you don’t mind when it comes to naked, sweaty sex.” I fumbled with the buttons on my shirt.

“The best kind. You know, soon enough, we won’t have to worry about all this.”

“Now that is something I can’t wait for. Until then, the ring is still on the finger.” My inner snark made herself known.

“That’s not fair. For now, we both have to wait, even if somewhat impatiently. Take the rest of the day—”

I interrupted. “I planned on it.” I needed to get off the call. I suddenly felt the urge to throw up.

“Of course you did. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

“It’s a date.”

“Hey, Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

My breath hitched.
No you don’t.
“Of course you do.”

It was still early when Marco dropped me off at the train station. Checking the time, I figured I’d be able to get home in time to change and spend an hour at the gym. I was sugaring up a coffee I purchased in the terminal when realized I didn’t feel like walking the few blocks home from the train station in heels. Of course I could call a cab, but then again, maybe my new roommate would be willing to pick me up.

“Hello?” Hearing the grogginess in his voice made my lady parts stand at attention. “Hey, roomie. Long night?”

“Not really. I stayed in. You?”

“You know me, always doing something.”

“Or someone.”

“True. Or someone.”

“So who was this someone?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, no one interesting.” I went for vague as I boarded the train.

“Are you kidding me? Two nights out and it’s no one interesting?” I heard him yawn.

“I know, I know. Listen, you wanna pick me up at the station? I mean, if you aren’t busy fiddling with your dick.”

“I have to fiddle with my dick. It’s not like you’re gonna do it.”

“You wish. And seriously, can you pick me up?”

“I mean, I guess I can do that if you tell me who had your interest for the past two nights.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious by nature.”

“Anyone ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?”

“Thank God I’m not a cat. More of a tiger.” He growled into the phone.

“A tiger
is
a cat, dumb-dumb. Are you going to pick me up or not?”

“I don’t know. Have you decided to go out to dinner with me?”

“If I have to walk, I swear—”

“Fine. What time do you come in?”

“Half hour or so.”

“See you then.” He clicked off before I could say thank you. Whatever. He was crashing on my couch for a week. He should be thanking me.

I checked my voice mail. No messages. I called Sarah and left a message for her to call me. I needed to talk to her about Zac’s decision to file. I needed her to tell me it was true and real and I shouldn’t worry about the dreadful feeling crawling over my skin. I threw my phone in my bag and downed the last dregs of my burned coffee and gathered my bags. By the time I hit my station, I was collected enough to enjoy the summer morning as I sat on the concrete bench waiting for Jared. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait too long.

“You bring high class to the walk of shame.” Jared walked up in a pair of low-slung cargo shorts and a tight white tank showing off the muscular arms I hadn’t taken the time to notice before, let alone appreciate. My eyes were, at the time, focused elsewhere.

“And you’re dressed like a member of the Jersey Shore cast.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Remember, I got out of bed on a Friday morning to pick your ass up. You’re lucky I’m wearing shoes. Get in.”

“You know, most people work during the week.”

“Give me a break. I’ve been in New Jersey barely two weeks. And if all goes well on Monday, then I will be back to making the bacon.” He looked over at me as I settled into the passenger seat of his pickup truck. “Your buttons are messed up.”

“What?” I looked down. He was right. I’d buttoned the shirt wrong. Smiling, I unbuttoned completely, shook out the shirt, and began the process of buttoning it correctly. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “Perv. Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Hard to do that when you’re half naked in the front seat of my truck.”

“Would you rather me be half naked in the backseat?” I countered.

“So”—he cleared his throat—“want to tell me where you were last night?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

“’Cause by the looks of it, whoever he was had a way better time than I did watching reruns of
Seinfeld
. And”—he pulled in front of the building—“methinks you made a mad dash to get out of there this morning. Your skirt’s on backward, too.”

He hopped out of the truck, went to the back, and pulled my bags out of the bed.

“Hey! You don’t get to judge me!” I leaned against the car as I tried to put my shoes back on while spinning my skirt. “You don’t know me!”

He held up his hands. “I’m not judging. Hey, I told you, I call ’em like I see ’em. Here.” He tossed my bags on the ground and walked into the building.

Unbelievable. Who the hell did he think he was? I picked up my bags and followed him in. When I finally caught up, he was unlocking the door.

“If you must know I was out with my boss. Yes, my boss. The one you’re interviewing with on Monday. And it was wonderful and it was sexy and it was—”

“Cut short?” he pushed the door open, threw his keys on the table, and walked to the kitchen.

I tossed my bags on the couch. “Yes. Yes, it was. His wife came home from the Hamptons early.” I reached around him to retrieve a bottle of water.

“You’re fucking your
married
boss? Jesus, who knew you’d be hard up?”

“I am not hard up! What Zac and I have is special.” I was finally beginning to actually hear myself and I didn’t like what I heard.

“And he’s leaving his wife for you.”

“As a matter of fact he is. He is filing the papers today. I saw them with my own eyes.”

He laughed, leaned in unbearably close, and whispered in my ear, “It ain’t over, sweetie, till the ring is off the finger.”

I froze. The exact words I was thinking earlier sounded more ominous when I heard them spoken out loud. “What do you know?” I pushed him away.

“Nothing.” He spread his arms out wide. “I’m new here. But I can tell you what I think. I think you’re lost, little girl. I think you use sex as a defense mechanism so you don’t have to get close to people.”

“Fuck you.” I pushed him harder.

“Harsh. Don’t be mad at me because your boss’s wife almost caught the two of you doing the horizontal mambo. I’m just saying, it isn’t smart to allow the company pen to be dipped in your ink.”

“Why not, when his name’s on the pen?” I shot back. I raised my hands to push him again and he grabbed my wrists.

“You certainly are testy this morning. Fine. You do what you want but when it all blows up in your face, don’t forget who told you so.”

“You sound like your sister.”

“She’s a wise woman.”

“Both of you should mind your own business.” I cringed, knowing I’d just called her for her advice not thirty minutes prior.

“You love him?”

“What? Why does that matter?” I finished my water and tossed the bottle into the recycle bag.

He stepped close enough that my back was pressed against the refrigerator and placed a hand on either side of my head. “Do you love him?”