“Of course not. Our marriage may not be real, but I don’t want anyone finding out about what you’re up to.”
“Good, then we have an understanding. Please, for the baby’s sake and yours, have an early night. You could do with the rest.”
I continued down the stairs to the garage, ignoring whatever nonsense she had to say. I’d given her enough of my time. I took the Corvette. I didn’t drive it much, so people wouldn’t recognize it as mine.
It still stood out more than I would’ve liked, though. I’d need to buy a new car. Something ordinary like August’s. A car no one would spare a second look.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into August’s garage, which he’d left open for me. It didn’t have a connecting door leading inside the house, and I had to exit and walk back to the porch. He’d started working on one side where the roof was completely removed.
The thought of August being sweaty as he did manual labor had me swallowing hard as I rang the doorbell. Who knew sweaty arms and a hairy body would turn me on? I’d been attracted to sophisticated women, and one would’ve thought it would be the same with men.
In fact, I found both sides of August hot—him working with his hands but also being smart as he was. I was able to talk business with him, which I hadn’t even been able to do with Miranda.
I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t thought of Miranda in a few days. How could I when August had consumed my every waking minute? When I wasn’t thinking about being with him, I was agonizing about someone finding out about our affair.
I inhaled sharply at the feeling of guilt. This time over forgetting my first love.
The door opened, and August’s face came into focus. His smile turned into a concerned frown.
“Charles? You okay?”
I didn’t respond, and he took my shoulder and pulled me inside the house, then closed the door.
“Someone found out about us?”
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “No. No, not that.”
“Then what?” He still had me by the shoulders, his fingers tightening. “You’re having second thoughts about us again, aren’t you?”
“No, not that either.” And I was certain about that. I wasn’t ready to give him up yet. I had close to four full months to explore our connection before I walked away. I meant to savor every single moment.
“I had a startling realization, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“I haven’t thought about my first wife in over a week.”
His hands slowly relaxed. “Is that a…good thing?”
I couldn’t read the guarded expression on his face. “I’m not so sure. What do you think?”
Then it hit me. It wasn’t just the sex. I valued his opinion not only on business but also on personal issues like these.
“You really want to know what I think?”
“Of course. Be honest.”
“I think after all these years, you’re beginning to let go.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t come here for this serious talk. All I wanted was to pick up where that dick pic had left off.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to let go,” I murmured. “She was my everything.”
“Yes, she was, but—she’s gone, Charles.”
A lot of people didn’t understand what Miranda’s death had done to me. How much of a failure I’d felt like for several years after. I was supposed to protect her, and I hadn’t been able to save her. I no longer talked about her death to anyone because people usually gave responses that more or less equaled to me getting over it already.
But when August said she was gone, I didn’t get that he was irritated with me and my obsession with my first wife. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and held me while I tried to process the truth of his words.
Miranda truly was gone.
It felt freeing to accept it.
I gave a small laugh. “You’re a horrible mistress.”
“I’m the mistress?” he asked, his chest shaking from his chuckle.
“Of course. Did you think I was just because you stick your cock up my ass?”
August groaned. “So blunt, but okay, let’s have it your way. Now what do you mean that I’m horrible at mistressing you?”
“Just that we shouldn’t be doing this emotional stuff. As soon as I walk through the doors, you should have me on my back or something.”
“Is that how mistressing works?”
“Hell yeah, I’ve had quite a few.”
August’s hand crept into my hair, and I braced for the impact of him yanking my head back. He loved doing that—tugging on my hair, and I found it so hot. Especially when he did it while he fucked my face.
“Is this better?” He pushed me against the door. My back hit the wooden panel, and he gripped my right hip and pulled my lower half snuggly into his.
I sucked in a deep breath. “You’re getting the hang of it. Still not completely there yet.”
He ground his pelvis into mine, and I gasped. Fuck. He did that so well. My hips followed his, rolling with a movement I’d never thought I was able to do. I just needed more friction from him. To feel his cock rubbing against mine, even fully clothed.
“How about now?” he murmured, lips brushing only lightly against my lips. “Is my pet now satisfied?”
I smashed my lips against his. Now I was satisfied. Make that a fucking lie. I moaned, wrapping my arms around August and fingers clawing at his back. I couldn’t get enough of him.
“August.” I panted when he trailed kisses across my cheekbone. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
He licked at my earlobe. “I’m going to feed you.”
“Your cock?”
He chuckled, but his breathing was heavy. I wasn’t the only one affected.
“No, actual food.”
I groaned, but his lips came down on mine again. His tongue lashed fire into my mouth, making my knees weak.
“Food first. We have all night to do everything else.”
Chapter Four
Auggie
Charles was still more or less pouting that I didn’t make a good mistress when I led him to the dining room. I could’ve used the kitchen, but at the last minute, I’d changed our eating destination. He didn’t want us to eat out and risk being seen. That didn’t mean I couldn’t try and give him a good dining experience.
Sort of. The quality was questionable, but I’d done my best. After Dad left, I rushed all evening to get everything done in time. I’d taken out our best tablecloth and china we only used for special occasions like Christmas.
“Still think I’m not a good mistress?” I teased to lighten the mood. Charles was on the verge of panicking.
What we had was supposed to be just sex. I’d cooked for him before but never anything so elaborate. We’d eaten in the kitchen or outside in the backyard, not at the table. With candles.
“I’ll keep you.” His words were tight. “Why did you go through all this trouble?”
“It was no trouble.”
He cocked an eyebrow in my direction.
“Maybe I’m trying to butter you up for later.”