After Hours

by Lynda Aicher

  He cleared his throat and turned to butter the toast. It’d be so easy to forget breakfast and drag her back to his bedroom. “Do you have plans today?” he asked to keep his thoughts away from her in his bed, naked, panting, begging to come.

  “I usually go to the farmers’ market on Saturday mornings.” She sat back when he set her plate before her. Steam still wisped from the omelet, and she inhaled, humming. “This looks really good. What’s in it?”

  He shrugged her compliment off. “Just some veggies and cheese.” She took a bite of bacon as he came around to sit beside her. “Which market do you go to?” There were multiple ones around the city on any given day.

  “We usually go to the big one at the Ferry Plaza.”

  “We?”

  “Karen and I.” She shrugged. “But I told her I might be busy today.” She shot him a side glance, an impish smile in place.

  That silly chest flutter started again to spread a wave of happiness through him. How fucking silly was that? But he didn’t stop his smirk nor could he resist teasing her. “Oh yeah? With whom?”

  Her scowl was about as menacing as a puppy. She hit his arm mumbling, “Jerk.”

  “Who, me?” He shot her the innocent face he’d perfected before he’d hit his teens. With three boys in the house, one of them had always been in trouble, and he’d done whatever he could to avoid his dad’s wrath—and his mom’s. Her disappointed glare was worse than his dad’s bellow.

  “I’m not buying that innocent thing,” she told him. “I know way too much about you to fall for it.”

  She did. He couldn’t deny it, and that was yet another step into the unknown. One he had no desire to retreat from.

  He turned his focus to his plate and dug into his food. He had no comeback, not even a joking one. This thing with Avery was moving faster than he could control. His stomach did a queasy dip and roll that he’d become accustomed to in the last week. He ignored it though, identifying it for the nervous fear that it was.

  “How did you get such good tickets to the show last night?” she asked. She took a bite of the omelet and gave another low hum of approval.

  He stared at her, thoughts racing back to the previous night when he’d stripped her slowly before using every trick he knew to hear that exact same sound. He cleared his throat, shifted his legs apart as he took a drink of his coffee. “Trevor,” he answered when he could think beyond his dick.

  “You’ll have to thank him for me.” She smiled, touching his arm. “How did you know I loved Broadway shows?”

  He shrugged. “Who doesn’t?” Gregory had relayed the suggestion from his wife, but Carson would never divulge that. Just add it to the list of things he hadn’t told her. The guilt nudged him, but he stubbornly ignored it—or tried to. Fuck.

  He sat his fork down and turned on the stool to face her. She lifted a brow, her mouth turning up at the corner. “What?” Teasing suspicion laced the word and lightened her eyes to a pale blue instead of that darker, passionate hue.

  “Are you okay with this?” he asked, deliberately vague. Where would she go with the answer? How would she define the question?

  She sobered, brows dipping as she sat up. “With what?”

  His smile tugged at his mouth. He should’ve known she wouldn’t fall for the simple bait. “Where we’re at.” Another vague answer.

  She turned to face him, her knees nestling between his wider-spread ones. Her contemplation lasted a few moments, but he waited her out. “I was,” she finally said. “Until you just said something.” She clasped her hands on her lap, head tilting. “So what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He trapped her hands in his and stroked the backs with his thumbs in an attempt to sooth. “Honestly,” he reassured her. “I just wanted to check. We started off at a very different point than where we are now.” Just sex. Wild, passionate, erotic sex.

  And now?

  “True.” Her nod was a slow, contemplative one. “Is that an issue for you?” She tried to tug her hands free of his, but he wouldn’t release them. Not when she was retreating so quickly.

  “No.” He shook his head, ensuring she read the truth in his eyes. “I have no problem with how things have changed.” Yet he still refused to articulate exactly how it’d changed. He still wasn’t ready to admit that, not even to himself.

  Her gaze dropped to their hands, and he searched for the words that’d ease the worry he’d placed within her.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She looked up, nodded.

  “What did you think of the sex club the other night?” They’d never discussed it afterward. He should’ve asked her when they’d left, but he’d still been spinning from the idea of a baby with Avery, not to mention angry at his own reckless disregard for basic safety.

  Her expression shifted from confusion to honesty, though. Her lips compressed before she spoke. “It was different. Hot in some ways, but...” She frowned, and that lovely pink tinge worked its way over her cheeks.

  “But what?” he prompted when she remained silent.

  She blew out a breath, mouth twisting. “But it wasn’t as intimate.”

  He held his smile back, nodding in understanding. “As the Boardroom.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were wide with that innocence of hers, but they included the knowledge of exactly what they both liked about the Boardroom scenes.

  “It brings it deeper, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded in slow agreement.

  “The shared experience,” he continued. “The implied circle of trust between the group. The sexual acts witnessed and performed in the open yet exclusively private.”

  Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. “Yes,” she whispered. “That.” She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Heat smoldered in her eyes, darkening them until he could read every dirty thought simmering within her. Want. Lust. That edge of excitement. Of loving the implied wrong.

  He released her hand to run his fingers over her jaw. She closed her eyes, chin lifting to follow his touch. And there was that soft trust. The trace of naïvety that called to him and made her passion so alluring. “Do you want to continue doing scenes there?” His breath stuck in his lungs, his own wants twisting between yes and no.

  Her eyes fluttered open to show the indecision warring within her, so like his own. “I don’t know.” Her brows pulled down. “I—” She swallowed. “I like them as we’ve done them.”

  In other words, the rules remain the same. Which was so damn perfect. “We can do more of that.” So much more of that.

  “Is that what you want?”

  Driving her mad while others watched in envy? Touching her? Teasing her knowing he was the only one who could pleasure her? Make her come? Feel her clench around him?

  Yeah, he could so do that.

  “As long as you do,” he qualified.

  She leaned in and braced her hands on his thighs. His skin buzzed at the gleam in her eyes and the promises they held.

  He cupped her jaw, amazed that she was even discussing the option, let alone considering it. Could he really have her and his kink?

  “I do,” she whispered.

  His pulse jumped, heart hitching at the gift she’d handed him. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” he asked, the pure wonder escaping with his awe.

  “No.” Her smile tweaked. “But you can do it anytime.”

  His laughter tumbled out on two short breaths as he drew her in. “I plan on it.” He closed his mouth over hers, contentment flowing with that other emotion struggling to be acknowledged.

  There was no need to analyze it, though. Not when he had everything he wanted right here.

  Her lips parted, and he brushed his tongue over hers, tasted the dark hint of coffee and lighter cast of the food. She moaned, longing stringing through the rumble.

  Fuck. He
couldn’t draw away from that. Apparently, he couldn’t deny her anything. Not that he wanted to.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Good morning, Maurine.” Avery smiled at the admin queen as she held out a folder to her. “These are the signed payment agreements Mr. James requested.”

  Trevor’s assistant wrinkled her nose in that habitual twitch of disgust. Was it directed at Avery or the reports? Whichever it was, it reminded Avery of a spinster cat lady before she scolded the kids for stepping on her lawn. “Thank you,” Maurine said, her distaste dripping from each word.

  Avery’s laughter bubbled inside her, but she kept it from escaping. “You’re welcome.” She added an extra dose of sunshine to her voice and smile before turning away. The witch could keep her pissy mood and superior attitude. It wasn’t going to affect Avery, not today.

  Nope. This happy bubble of hers had been intact since that night at the sex club almost a week ago, and it showed no sign of popping.

  “Gregory asked me to drop these off,” she said to Jean when she reached Carson’s office. She forced herself to focus on Jean and not at the open office door. “He had some questions regarding the proposed budget for the new software.”

  Jean took the folder, her smile tight. “Thank you.” She glanced at the open doorway before leaning in, voice lowered when she spoke. “Anything I need to warn him about?” She tipped her head toward Carson’s office.

  Avery frowned. Was something wrong? Carson hadn’t mentioned anything. “Not that I’m aware of.” But she had zero knowledge of their discussions, which were still in the proposal stages.

  “Good.” Jean sat back, shoulders falling as she relaxed. “How are you doing?”

  “Good, thank you.” Saying fabulous, unbelievable or amazing would be too much. “You?”

  Her nod was contemplative. “No real complaints. But my brain is fried from all of this data.” She motioned to her computer screen. “And the day is still early.”

  “I get that,” Avery commiserated. “Anything I can do to help?” It was basically an empty offer since she had a stack of her own work waiting, but she extended it anyway, just like she’d been raised to do.

  “Oh, I’m fine.” Jean straightened, a practiced smile moving into place as she glanced behind Avery, standing. “Good morning, Mr. Hanson.” She moved toward Carson’s door. “Let me check if Carson’s ready for you.”

  She ducked into the office as Avery’s smile fell. Her stomach churned, her happiness bubble deflating on a wave of sour embarrassment. She turned around, nerves contracting every muscle when she faced the guy from the Boardroom.

  Drake Hanson, CEO of a Silicon Valley software company. She’d looked him up after seeing him in Gregory’s office. Highly educated, relatively young and well connected, if his company profile was to be trusted.

  “Morning,” she managed to say, voice stiff.

  “Good morning,” he said, smile indifferent. He looked nothing and everything like her memory from the Boardroom encounter. Same dark hair, only it wasn’t mussed. Same predatory stare, only there was no hint of heat. Same sleek appearance, only he was fully clothed.

  She flashed a weak smile and moved past him. “Excuse me.” She didn’t wait for a response before she strode away. Her face was warm, heart pounding with her own damn issues. There’d been nothing improper about their encounter. No hint of secret knowledge or insulting leer.

  Nothing.

  But she knew what he knew, and that was the convoluted problem. She couldn’t shake her own ingrained hang-ups. Would she ever?

  She flopped down in her chair, thoughts jumping between berating herself and laughing at her stupidity. Carson was right. She was applying this sense of shame to herself. It hadn’t come from that man—Drake Hanson. Not now or the last time she’d seen him.

  Yet it still swarmed in her stomach and squeezed her chest. Why? Where was that power she’d embraced before?

  Saved for Carson, apparently.

  She snorted at herself, her disgust as clear as Maurine’s had been. There was no reason for this little panic attack. None.

  She hadn’t participated in public sex with Carson since that club, and it’d been weeks since they’d been to a Boardroom scene. Was it even crazier to admit she missed it?

  Yes. Yes, it was.

  And there was no way she could say that to Carson. Going along with what he arranged was very different from suggesting it herself. That was a step she wasn’t ready to cross, at least not yet. Her newfound boldness only went so far. But why hadn’t he set something up after their talk last weekend?

  And she was stewing over a non-issue, making something out of nothing.

  She yanked her drawer open and grabbed the bottle of peppermint oil. One deep inhale of the fresh scent had the tension melting from her shoulders. The wonders of aromatherapy still amazed her. She rubbed it on the back of her neck and savored the cool vapors as it tingled over her nape.

  She’d been “dating” Carson for almost two weeks. More dinners, strolls through neighborhoods hunting for the best coffee, nights spent in bed that’d bled into a few mornings. Couple that with the prior months of sex and yeah, she was fully invested in him now.

  The stupid love word floated around in her heart, but she kept it locked up tightly. There was no place for it now, not yet.

  “Hey, Avery?”

  She snapped her head around, smile in place as Gregory stepped from his office. “Yes?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, grimaced. That frazzled appearance was out in full force, and she almost winced for him. “I need to ask you a huge favor.”

  The overemphasis on “huge” had her tensing. “What?” she asked, dragging the word out.

  He heaved a sigh before sending her his best begging puppy-dog expression. “I forgot the papers for the McPherson deal at home.” He cringed at her scowl.

  “Your meeting with Trevor is at eleven.” As she understood it, the financial details were the last hurdle they had to pass to land that big new client.

  “I know.” He dug his phone from his pocket. “Which is the only reason why I’m asking you to run down to San Carlos to get them for me.”

  “Umm...what?”

  “Don’t worry,” he rushed on, already tapping at his phone. “I’ll pay for the ride. Tam is at home today. The twins both have ear infections now, and they spent the night playing tag on the crying schedule.” He made one last jab at his phone before looking to her. “A car will be here in three minutes.” He checked his phone again. “And you should make it back in time as long as the traffic cooperates.”

  Silence settled around them for a brief moment before her stunned laughter burst free. “Wow. All right.” She shook her head and opened her desk drawer to grab her purse. His verbal diarrhea convinced her to agree more than the implied obligation of her position. “I’ll go get them.”

  “Thank you.” The relief flowed in his voice. “I owe you.”

  “You do,” she agreed, mentally reshuffling the rest of her work to accommodate Gregory’s emergency. “Remember that at review time,” she added with a smirk as she left the outer office area. “Text me if you need anything else.”

  She hustled to the elevator, annoyance shifting to happiness when it dawned on her that she’d get to see the twins. It’d been months since Tam had brought them into the office.

  The ride down the peninsula was uneventful, which gave her too much time to mull over the morning. Would she ever be comfortable with others knowing intimate details about her sex life?

  She snorted to herself. It was a little late to be stewing on that. She should’ve thought through her initial trip to the Boardroom just a little bit better. But she hadn’t wanted to think about the potential consequences back then.

  But what were they now?

 
The car pulled up to the curb before a two-story modern home situated in the hills overlooking Redwood Shores. The beige stucco was accented by dark brown trim in a boxy style with large windows overlooking the brick-paved drive, which rose on an incline to a three-car garage. The lot even had a small front yard that ran along the side of the home. Mature trees provided an established feel, and the view added to the stunning impression of the home.

  Tam answered her knock after a few moments. “Hey, Avery.” Her smile was tired but warm as she waved her inside. “Come in. The papers are in the kitchen.” Her yoga pants and T-shirt were comfortably chic, yet her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail instead of the stylish bob she usually sported, and her face was makeup-free.

  Avery followed Tam past the line of discarded baby toys that trailed across the hardwood floors. The chef’s kitchen was straight out of a magazine with its marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances. But the high-end glamor was offset by the collection of empty baby bottles, dirty plates and open boxes of crackers and cereal that littered every surface. Avery smiled when she spotted the magnetic alphabet letters that covered the lower half of the fridge and the colorful swirling “pictures” that dominated the top.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Tam said, waving at the counters. “Priorities shift once you have kids.”

  “I can imagine,” Avery said. The open living area displayed the large collection of baby trappings attempting to overtake the family room. Everything from Pack ’n Plays to walkers to a stack of primary-colored bins, half of them spilling toys from their confines.

  This was a family home. A lived-in reality that made her heart ache and melt at once.

  “Here you go,” Tam said, grabbing an overstuffed folder from the edge of the island. “And tell Greg he owes you.” She leveled a warning look at Avery that made her laugh.

  “I already did,” she told her, taking the papers from her.

  “Good.” Tam slouched against the counter. “And thank you. The thought of waking the twins just to drag them downtown to deliver that almost made me cry.”