Page 16 of The Arrangement

“Kids, plural?”

“Three,” I said with a laugh.

“Widower or divorced?” She seemed hesitant. Had I blown my chances?

Which was worse? “Divorced. Last year. I have joint custody.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the kids or the divorce, so I nodded. “So, my place then?” she asked, recovering from her disappointment. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand nonchalantly. “Fine. Whatever. I’ve never brought a hot dad home. You’ll be something new for my roommates to gossip about.”

With that, she picked up the pace, heading toward the parking garage with me behind her. She led me to the elevator when I told her I’d parked on Floor 3, and we waited. When the doors opened, and then shut with us inside, she turned to me, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

All at once, we lunged at each other. There was no other way to describe the way we moved together, our bodies smacking into one another. My lips found hers, the strong, acidic taste of whiskey on her tongue as it plunged into my mouth.

I didn’t feel like I'd lost my footing as I’d been expecting to. Instead, my hand moved to her breast with ease. Our kiss grew more passionate, her expelling moans of pleasure as I spun us around, pressing her back to the metal wall of the elevator. The dinging noise of our arrival had us pulling apart, our lips red and swollen, stupid grins on both our faces.

We hurried toward my car, me leading the way this time, and climbed inside. Once there, we sat for a second, catching our breath from the kiss and the run and the excitement of the moment. I’d missed this feeling. God, I’d missed it. The uncertainty and the longing and the feeling like my chest was going to explode at any moment. The excitement in her eyes, the burning desire I knew we both felt. Where had it gone with Ainsley? Why had it fizzled out? Clearly, lacking passion was not my problem.

I started the car. “Where to?” Mallory leaned over, resting against my side as comfortably as she could over the center console. Her hand trailed between my legs, running up and down the seams of my pants as she gave me instructions, her floral-scented perfume so strong I was sure it would never come out of the fabric of my car or clothes. I could hardly think, and it was an absolute miracle that we made it out of downtown and to her neighborhood.

At one point, we nearly crashed as she took my hand and stuck it, without warning, inside her dress, my fingers cupping her bare breast. That was where it stayed, too, with no objection from me. My heart thudded so rapidly I was sure she could hear it; my palm sweating against her nipple for the entire rest of the ride. Her hips ground circles against the seat, her hand squeezing my inner thighs, working their way up to the bulge in my pants over and over again.

When we arrived, she instructed me to park across from a set of two-story townhomes, removed her hand from my lap, and adjusted the top of her dress as my hand left her breast.

She smiled at me, leaning over to kiss my lips before opening the door and stepping out. I stepped out of my side of the car, following her up the long walk to the red front door of the brick townhome.

“Shh,” she cautioned. “I don’t want to disturb my roommates.” With that, she twisted the key in the lock and led us into the dark and silent living room. The home had the overwhelming scent of tacos and animal urine—not the most romantic combination. My stomach rolled from the stench, and I forced myself to breathe through my mouth.

She took my hand in the dark, making no effort to turn on a light, and led me down a hallway, past a set of closed doors, and up a tall, narrow staircase. I could hear the humming of a faint TV coming from one of the bedrooms and I wondered if her roommates were used to her sneaking random men into their home. At one point, she stumbled and laughed quietly, as if she were drunk, though I knew she hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to be intoxicated in the slightest. We reached a door and she turned the handle, flipping on a lamp.

The room was average size and had a full-size bed against the far wall, with clothes draped across the end of it. There was a vanity to my left covered with makeup and perfume, bottles toppled over and powder everywhere. A small TV stand sat across from her bed, a stack of plates and empty cans of soda resting on its top. A laptop sat open, screen black, on the floor. Next to it, a navy blue dog bed sat, covered in long, white hair. I briefly wondered where the dog from her photos was.

It looked like a teenager’s room, though much worse than my own teenager’s. Ainsley would’ve had a fit if the kids’ rooms were that messy.

I didn’t need to think about that.

I didn’t need to worry about a future with a woman who had no qualms about a lack of cleanliness. I didn’t need to think about anything except the woman in front of me, unzipping her dress in slow motion. She let it fall away, revealing a tiny, matching set of lacy lingerie. She kicked the dress into the corner, pulling the clothes off the bed as I reached for the buttons of my shirt.

When she turned back to me, her eyes burned with the same desire I felt deep in my stomach. She reached for me, helping me with the last few buttons as her mouth found mine again.

Grabbing hold of my arms, she shoved me onto the bed and removed the last bit of fabric from her body. She stood in front of me for a few seconds, allowing me to take in the sight of her. Then, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine as she climbed onto the bed. I kissed her chest, her lips, her cheeks, her ears, unable to decide where to keep my mouth. Ending the struggle, she sat up, scooting one knee down the bed, then the other, working her way slowly toward my pelvis. She was an expert, practiced in the art of seduction. Every move she made somehow turned me on more.

I watched her unhook my belt, never breaking eye contact with me, her expression sultry and passionate. When she pulled my pants toward my ankles, she looked me over, a devilish grin on those pouty, pink lips, and I watched as her blonde head lowered, taking me into her mouth. The hair fell in front of her face, and I watched as it bobbed up and down, keeping a slow and steady pace.

I rested my head on the pillow, letting out haggard breaths as I watched her head—blonde, straight hair so starkly different from the red curls I was used to seeing there—as it moved up and down, coaxing strangled sounds from my throat. I was unable to control myself with her, and she seemed to be enjoying it.

In that moment, a moment of pure and seemingly unending ecstasy, I was so glad we did this. I was so grateful my wife had the idea. I was so glad I chose Mallory. I was so fucking glad I was there—

I couldn’t think anymore. I needed to feel everything. I needed to be present.

I glanced down at the incredible view and thought about how lucky I was.

And then, as I felt the lightning tearing through my body, white-hot with pure pleasure as her eyes met mine again, I didn’t think at all.

I just fucking felt.

Chapter Nine

AINSLEY