“Very true. Always.”
Her foot stilled, but remained on my seat for a moment. I stroked her bare calf, stifling a moan. “How do you do it?”
Kat held her spoon midair and her eyebrows nearly met in the middle.
“How do you make it feel like it’s the first time whenever you touch me? God, I’m frickin’ gushing over here, if you know what I mean.”
She smiled like the devil. “I think I’m going to take my time eating tonight.” She licked her spoon, and my insides throbbed.
A woman next to us cleared her throat so loudly it sounded like she was hacking up her lung. Her husband’s face was redder than Kat’s dress, and it wasn’t from embarrassment. Fight number four, maybe.
“Take all the time you need. I’ll make you pay for it later.”
Kat placed both forearms on the table and leaned over just enough for me to get an eyeful. “I’m counting on it.”
The waiter approached to ask if we were done with our soup. Neither of us spoke, but he made the correct decision and bussed away our bowls without saying another peep.
“You have the most amazing eyes,” Kat said. “I always know what you’re thinking.”
“Ha! I’m pretty sure most everyone here is thinking the same thing at the moment.”
“And what’s that?” She laced her fingers together and propped her chin on her hands, elbows still on the table.
“I want to fuck you.” I bent closer. “And the best part is I’m the only person in this room who will. Ever.” My voice was low, but my passion had kicked into high gear.
“I do love it when you talk like that. I remember when we first met. You could barely string two sentences together.” Kat’s eyes feasted on my face, and her toe explored again.
I let out an almost undetectable gasp that was meant only for Kat.
Her toe orbited my clit. I steadied my breathing as much as possible and stared intently at my wife. Would she take me there? At the top of the Pru?
As if she was in tune with my thoughts, she nodded ever so slightly.
Oh. My. God.
I wondered whether anyone suspected what was happening under the table. Surely the waiter had picked up on the fact that we wanted some alone time. He seemed to have stalled before bringing out the next course.
Kat continued.
All of the chatter and clattering in the room magically faded. It was only Kat and I in the posh restaurant overlooking the Boston skyline, and we only had eyes for each other.
The closer I came to the brink, the more intent Kat’s concentration became, not just her toe, but also her expression. Kat wanted me to explode in my panties, which more than likely wouldn’t stem the tide. Sayonara to the chair and my two-hour-old dress.
I closed my eyes and stilled my body as much as possible, but I couldn’t stop the hint of a shudder.
“Here ya go,” said the waiter, placing the lobster in front of Kat. All of the bustling crashed into my ears again, snapping the door shut on my orgasm.
“I can’t wait to taste it,” Kat said to me, grinning.
The waiter nodded crisply and set my grilled eggplant and zucchini in front of me before he fled. Could he smell my juices, or did I have a nearly fucked glow?
Kat moistened her lips. “Good?”
“Y-yes,” I stuttered. “Bon appétit.” I sipped my glass of ice-cold water, tempted to dump it over my burning body to tamp down my desire, which was only intensified by Kat’s performance.
“Yes, you too, my love.” Kat cracked a lobster claw, dipped the tender meat into the garlic butter sauce, and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes closed, her shoulders heaved slightly, and her chest hitched up.
“Good?”
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
She repeated the performance. A crowbar wouldn’t have been able to pry my eyes off her.
“You aren’t hungry?” She pointed to my plate with the shell cracker.
“I’m getting my fill; trust me.”
“Anything I can do to improve my performance?”
I mulled this over. “My first thought was for you to slip out of your dress, but actually, I think this, right now, is perfect.”
“Why’s that?” Kat placed another delectable morsel on her tongue, savoring it for both of our benefits.
“Because my brain is going into warp speed imagining all the ways I’m going to rip your clothes off.”
“Do tell.”
Surreptitiously, I glanced around the crowded restaurant. Waiters hustled and bustled with plates, carrying bottles of wine or champagne. Diners in suits and dresses conversed, laughed, or ate in silence. It didn’t take much imagination to pretend we were sitting in a fancy schmancy gin joint/upscale restaurant in the roaring twenties, the time period of the latest novel I was working on.
And my beautiful wife wanted me to talk dirty to her.
It was fucking hot.
“I want to fuck you up against the glass window of our room, and I insist you keep your eyes open. No one will be able to see you so high up, but it’ll be like you’re on display for the world. I don’t want to share you completely, but I want to share how I make you feel. Share that gorgeous face when you come. Create our own sensual art in the sky. And you’ll be able to see all of Boston lit up just for you. All the brilliant and twinkling lights shining for your enjoyment.”
Kat’s eyes told me to keep going.
“I’m going to take you from behind, fast and hard. I can picture it now. My hand slickened with your juices, thrusting in and out. You begging for more, but I want you to come in front of the glass before I taste you.” I motioned to a piece of lobster she was dangling in front of her face and smiled at her mouth hanging agape. “Eat up, darling. You’re going to need your strength.”
Kat stuck her tongue out, and then licked her lips before she sucked the lobster inside.
Surely people were noticing us now, and I wondered whether they recognized us. The Roger news had died away, for the most part. But after the funeral my face had been splattered all over the major news channels, clips of my speech, before they’d cut away to the scandal about his sex life.
Still, I doubted people recognized me. Kat had insisted we have our hair and makeup done for dinner, so my hair was swept up and my usually makeup-free face was expertly painted like a runway model. I didn’t resemble the heartbroken niece who’d given her uncle’s eulogy weeks ago.
The pain of Charlotte’s and Roger’s deaths would never diminish, but sitting here with Kat made me realize the cruel fact that life marches on. I could march with it, or I could let it pass me by. Roger wouldn’t want me to be a spectator.
Kat must have noticed the drastic change in my demeanor. She set aside the lobster cracker and mini-pitchfork. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I swiped away a tear. “I’ve never felt more alive.”
“Then why are you crying?” Kat patted my hand.
“Happy tears, Kit Kat.”
Kat snapped her fingers.
Surprisingly, a waiter appeared within three seconds. “Yes?”
“Can we get a bottle of champagne, please?”
“Of course, madam.”
“Madam?” Kat teased when the coast was clear.
“Goes with the territory, I think.” I waved to the room.
“This place is so very unPhineas-like.” She narrowed her eyes.
“You deserve the best.”
The waiter popped the cork and Kat clapped her hands, making him smile. His eyes wandered over her body. Let him look. My hands would be all over her soon.
“Any dessert?”
“Yes,” Kat purred. “The Boston cream pie and the black forest cake.”
“Excellent choices.” He bowed and walked back two steps before flipping around on his heel and marching toward the kitchen.
“Funny, lately our lives have been filled with choices,
and I think each one has been excellent,” Kat said. “Your uncle would be so proud of you.”
“I think he is with me. Everything he taught me.” I mimicked his voice, “Get in the game, Cori.” I laughed. “God, I can’t tell you how many times I heard him say that or imagined him saying it.”
“Is that your plan then? Tonight?”
“Trust me. I plan to blow your mind.”
***
I kicked at the tangle of sheets at the foot of the bed. “That was amazing.”
Kat eyed the smudges on the glass. “Do you think housekeeping will guess how all those finger marks and face splotches got onto the window?”
I closed my eyes, remembering flashes of Kat pressed against the window. My fingers thrusting inside her. The lights below. Her moans.
The entire room was in shambles. We’d made love repeatedly, not wasting an inch of space in the one-bedroom suite, which was twice the size of the one-bedroom apartment I’d had in college.
“How in the hell did you manage that move on the chair?” I gestured to the upholstered chair.
“I’ve been doing squats. My thigh muscles are in the best shape.”
“Hands down, this night is in the top five of sexual escapades.”
Kat raked her fingers through my hair. “Not the best?”
“Close. I still think our wedding night is the night to beat.” I kissed her nipple. It hardened immediately.
Kat covered it with a hand. “No! I need a break.”
I laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to walk funny for the next three days.”
“Ah, yes. The I’ve been fucked walk. You do it so well.”
“My compliments to the artist.” I mimed tipping my hat.
Sleep beckoned, and there was no fighting it. My eyes closed. Kat must have already slipped into dream world. Her entire body spasmed and then stilled completely.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Wow, you actually slept through the night.” Kat kissed the top of my head, and I snuggled into the crook of her arm.
“Not sure very many could stay awake after last night’s activities.” I wrapped my arm around her, showing no desire to get out of bed.
She laughed her completely satisfied laugh. “I’m starving.”
“Order room service. Mom’s picking up the tab,” I mumbled into her chest.
Kat playfully jabbed her elbow into my side, but that didn’t stop her from picking up the phone and placing an order. When she hung up, she said, “You have twenty minutes before they arrive.”
“Good. I want to keep my eyes closed and enjoy being in your arms.”
Kat continued to hold me until room service knocked on the door. She slipped into a robe to answer, while I remained in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. A young man in a waiter’s version of a monkey suit rolled the cart in. I detected his eyes taking in the scene, but he was trained not to show any emotion. I was fairly certain he’d walked into many rooms the morning after a fuckfest.
“By the window?” he asked Kat.
She nodded, reaching into her purse for the tip. She gave him two twenties. Hush money, maybe? He thanked her as if getting cash from half-naked gorgeous women happened every day. It probably did.
The door shut quietly.
“Nice tip,” I said, sitting up, stretching my arms, and releasing a contented yawn.
She shrugged. “He was a cutie, and oh my gosh, did you see how young?” Kat handed over the double espresso, and then she poured a cup of Darjeeling for herself.
“I swear, each year college freshmen get younger and younger.” I meandered to the table, both hands clutching the tiny cup. Spying fresh blueberries, I popped three into my mouth.
“I’m sure it’s just that we’re getting older.” Kat settled at the table, after righting both of the chairs, which had been toppled over the previous night.
“You, my dear, don’t look a day older than when I met you.” I kissed her cheek and donned a robe, not wanting to sit bare ass in a hotel chair.
Waffles, French toast, eggs Benedict, and an omelet filled with lobster and crabmeat for Kat sat on the table, along with fresh fruit.
“I doubt we’ll eat it all,” I said.
“Don’t worry. Harold will be here in twenty.”
“What? Why?”
She hitched her shoulders. “He texted an hour ago saying we had to talk.”
I crinkled my eyes. “That sounds ominous.”
Kat scooped in a mouthful of her omelet and groaned with satisfaction. “I could get used to living like this.”
A knock on the door interrupted.
“How in the world is he always early when meeting us, yet he was never on time when we worked at the coffee shop?” I asked. “Not once.”
“Seriously, you don’t know? He’s always hopeful he’ll catch us in the middle of sex. Harold’s harmless mostly, but he’s still a man.”
Kat let him in while I pulled the toppled desk chair up to the cramped table. Now it made sense that she’d ordered eggs Benedict.
He wore a Mind the Gap T-shirt and jeans. His eyes darted around the room, and I wondered what perversions were racing through his mind. More than likely, he wasn’t far off the mark. When he spied the food, Harold took a seat at the table and tucked a white linen napkin into his collar.
“Help yourself,” Kat said before I had a chance to say anything rude. The woman knew me better than I knew myself.
He glommed onto the eggs. Watching Harold eat was like sitting in the stands of a hot-dog-eating contest. Once he took his first bite, he consumed food quickly and with precision. If I didn’t know his history, I would have assumed he was a foster kid who’d learned to eat fast or not eat at all. However, his mother was a sweet little old lady who’d had him late in life and coddled him before he even popped out. When I asked him why he rushed, he said the one thing his mother was strict about was no books at the dinner table. He’d learned to eat like Mario Andretti so he could be excused to read.
After he sopped up the remnants of hollandaise with a bit of toast, I asked, “What’s up, Harold?”
He set his fork on the nearly spotless plate. “Have you checked in with your mom?”
“No. Why?” I crossed my arms.
He fished his iPad out of his bag and efficiently manipulated the screen before placing it down in front of me. Kat stood behind me and peered over my shoulder.
“What the fuck?” She snatched the tablet off the table. “How did you get these?”
“Cori’s email.” He remained quite calm—the complete opposite of Kat.
I lightly rapped my fingers on the table, unperturbed he’d read my emails. It was part of his job, after all. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
Kat still clutched the iPad, and I’d yet to see why her panties were in such a bunch; however, I was confident she currently wasn’t wearing any under her robe.
Kat flipped around, her eyes bulging with fury.
Now I was worried. “What?”
Kat stared at the table and shook her head. Without saying a word, she set the iPad down.
I skimmed the email and digested snippets. “What is this?” The sender had assembled different fonts—no, I leaned closer—Photoshopped letters from magazines, proclaiming undying love. “Is this a joke?” My eyes and brain couldn’t focus on the proof before me.
Harold sat with his hands folded on the table, and Kat paced the room, sputtering incomprehensibly.
I leveled my eyes on Harold. “Do I even want to open the attachments?” I groaned. “What’s going on? The attached…” I still didn’t want to see them.
“The painting,” he answered with a professional calm. “And photos of you lecturing, running—doing everyday things. There are a few of Kat, but only when she’s with you. I think the person has been trailing you. There are photos of you two in public over a span of time, including dinner last nigh
t.” He gestured to Kat’s red dress on the floor.
“What painting?” I glowered at poor Harold.
He flinched. “Yours.”
“Which one? I’m married to an artist, and my aunt owns a studio.”
Harold stretched a skinny finger in my direction.
“I haven’t shown any works with Cori,” Kat defended.
Harold cleared his throat. “I think the painting in question was meant to be private.”
I rubbed my eyes. Kat sank into the couch by the table and pulled her knees to her chest. Her feet stuck out from her billowed robe.
“Is there a photo of the painting?” I laid a hand on the tablet screen. “Attached to the email?”
Harold nodded once.
“How? It’s under lock and key in our home.”
“Someone must have broken in.” Kat stared at the ceiling, her eyes brimming with frustrated tears. “There’s more.”
My heart hammered in my eardrums.
“Do you remember the photo you snapped—of us? You said you wanted me to paint it for your personal collection.” Kat avoided my eyes by looking out the window.
I started to put the pieces together. “My phone. I thought I’d misplaced it, but it must have been stolen from our house.” Last I’d seen the cell, it was under the couch. “It had a pass code.”
Harold didn’t bother to state the obvious. Anything digital could be hacked.
I sat dumbfounded.
Kat squeezed my shoulder and took a seat next to me. She pinned her eyes on mine. “You’re handling this much better than I thought.” She spoke slowly, as if worried if she brought reality to my attention I’d flip-out and go into full-blown jock mode.
“I don’t even know what to think. If it wasn’t so sick, I’d say it was Mom playing a joke. I mean—this shit is crazy. Like someone is short forty-eight cards of a full deck.” I squinted at the screen again. “I mean the person is obsessed with me. My life. Not you. Who in the hell would zero in on me and not you?”
“So you wish I was the target?” Kat flinched.
“No, of course not. I just can’t wrap my head around it. A stalker—really? This doesn’t happen to people like me. I’m not Sandra Bullock.”
Confessions From the Dark Page 21