Loving the Playboy

by Scott, S. L.

  “Yes, you are and we need to make the most of every minute. It’s too cold out here. Let’s go eat.”

  Twenty minutes later, we walk into the restaurant I always told myself I would bring her if she was here. “Une table pour deux s’il-vous-plaît, de préférence privée,” I say, holding Mallory’s hand. I swing her around in front of me as we follow the maitre d’ to the table. We’re seated in the corner of the cozy French restaurant I discovered a few months ago. I come here when I need a change of scenery. It’s authentic in detail and food.

  I reach across the table for her hand as our waiter arrives with a small baguette and asks, “Que voulez-vous boire?”

  “Champagne. La meilleure. Nous celebrons. Cette belle femme a accepte d’etre ma femme.”

  “Ah, les felicitations sont de l’ordre.”

  “Merci.”

  Mallory leans forward, lowering her voice and says, “You speaking French does very unexpected things to me. Why have you been hiding this talent from me?”

  “I thought I’d mentioned I spoke other languages.”

  “You did, but hearing you say you speak French and hearing you speak French is two very different things.” She whispers, “You’ve got me all bothered and I only understood the word champagne.”

  “Then watch out when we get back to my place because I’m going to teach you the real language of love.”

  Her cheeks flush as she readjusts in her chair. She’s subtle, but I catch it.

  * * *

  “What do you think?” I ask, raising my arms out.

  Mallory slowly turns, taking in my apartment then says, “I think your money’s showing, Ashford.”

  “My parents own it—”

  “Your parents bought you and Kate this fancy apartment in a fancy building in an even fancier part of town?”

  “They live next door.”

  Her eyes go wide and she points at the door. “Like across the hall next door?”

  “Yep.”

  “So your family owns both apartments on this floor?”

  “Yep.”

  “Enough with the yeps,” she jokes, walking to the window and looking out, seeming to need time to think this through. “Nice view.” She turns abruptly. “We should talk about where you want to live once you graduate.” She crosses her arms and I can tell she’s starting to stress. Her tapping foot might be giving that away as well.

  I walk to her, unfurl her arms, and hold her hands between us. “Wherever you are. That’s where I want to be.”

  “But where do you want to live, Evan? I want to know. I can’t be your aspiration in life. I know you have dreams and goals and I don’t want to hold you back from achieving all that. You’re smart and sexy and you spoke French tonight and asked me to marry you and I’m worried that I can’t fulfill all your dreams, so I need you to—”

  “Shhh!” I say, putting a finger to her mouth. “We have time, baby.”

  “I just don’t—”

  “You know my current goals. As for where to live, I don’t honestly know. You may land a job somewhere and that’s where we’ll go. I may end up somewhere and I know you’ll come with me.”

  “I realize the sacrifice you’re making by coming to Colorado, so I need you to know that I’ll follow you anywhere after that.”

  “It’s not a sacrifice. I was bumming around Hawaii. I’m coming to college to accomplish something. Colorado’s a great school. It’s not a sacrifice.”

  I take her jacket from her shoulders, slip mine off, and toss them over the back of a chair. Giving her the grand tour, I lead her by the hand. “This apartment may look big , especially by New York standards, but it’s only a quarter of the size of my parents.”

  “I can’t believe your parents live across the hall. Why did I not know this?”

  “Discussing my parents is not really a priority when we talk.” I end the tour in my bedroom just as planned. After she explores the room, we end up on opposite sides of the bed, looking at each other, and I ask, “So what do you feel like doing?”

  “You mentioned something earlier about teaching me about the language of love.” She lifts an eyebrow, challenging me, and I harden instantly.

  I kick my shoes off and get on the bed. On my knees, I cover the distance that divides us and grab her by the hips, pulling her down onto the mattress beneath me. “I’m fluent in that language and more than happy to teach you everything I know, baby.”

  13

  Mallory

  I’ve never been a contortionist, but with my head thrown back, hanging off the edge of the bed, my back arched up, and my legs draped over his shoulders, I’m starting to feel like one along with every deep, hard thrust.

  Evan sets my legs down on the bed and stands, offering me a hand up. “Let’s move to the couch.”

  As soon as my feet touch the ground, I scurry to the couch, standing next to it. His hands take my hips as his lips steal a kiss. I’m spun around and Evan’s fingers drag lightly down my spine. He’s in me, the sound of us together filling the quiet apartment making me thankful that Kate is spending the weekend with Murphy at a hotel.

  His hand is in my hair as his other squeezes my hip tightly. “Mallory. Mallory. Mallory,” he chants over and over again. I can tell by his erratic movements that he’s close. I tilt up just as he takes hold of both my hips, taking all of me.

  Fingers apply pressure, kneading my ass. He moves his hand between my legs, teasing me, taunting the most wanton part of my body. I quickly succumb and constrict around him sending him into his own orgasm.

  The weight of his body drops down onto my back as his hands caress my waist, rubbing soft circles up my sides. He places three soft kisses on my back as we both try to regulate our breathing.

  A few minutes later, we’re both in the shower, exhausted, and using it for its intended purpose. I hop out after hogging the hot water. When Evan steps out, he’s wet, droplets gliding over his chest and the muscles of his abs. His towel hangs too low to be legal and I sigh contented. I missed this, the freedom to ogle him whenever I want.

  Legal? Making no sense, my thoughts get jumbled when I’m around his hotness. He really is too good looking for his own good… and apparently mine. I giggle at my ridiculousness.

  A loud knock on the front door brings me out of my personal Evan fantasy, and my eyes meet his in the mirror. “Someone’s at the door,” I say. I’m drier than he is, so I walk into the bedroom looking for something to pull on.

  “It’s probably just Kate,” he says, “Sometimes she forgets her keys. Let her wait.”

  “Your love for your sister is obvious,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll let her in.”

  I grab the closest article of clothing I can find, which is the T-shirt he wore tonight under his tux. I inhale his scent as it drops down over my head. Damn, he smells good. Bending over, I twist the towel around my hair and flip it back up before hurrying down the hall to answer the door.

  When I lift up on my tiptoes and look through the peephole, my heart stops. Oh shit! I duck down, hoping his mother didn’t see me.

  “Hello, Evan? Mallory?”

  Shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuckity, shit, shit! I remain frozen, tucked beneath the peephole. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I repeat and then stand, put on a brave face and open the door, slowly, but I open it.

  “Ah, Mallor… Oh, am I interrupting?” She looks at my attire, or lack thereof, should I say. “My apologies. I can come back.”

  “No, Mrs. Ashford, it’s fine. You’re here,” I say, shifting uncomfortably in front of her. “Evan just got out of the shower.” Looking down at my bare legs and having my hair up in a towel, I think it’s pretty obvious I also just got out of it. What must she think of me? Ugh. “Would you like to wait for him?” Please say no.

  “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

  What? “Oh,” I respond blankly though my insides are turning, twisting into one large knot, making me feel sick to my stomach. I wasn’t prepar
ed for a showdown. I don’t know if I ever will be, but especially not standing here practically naked. “Please come in. I should change. I’ll change.” I begin to walk backwards. “Yes, I’ll get dressed and be right back.”

  She stares at me, judging or what feels like judging. “No, please,” she says, her hand landing on my forearm to stop my escape. “I don’t mean to intrude on your reunion.” As she talks, she remains holding my arm, keeping me near. “I’m so glad you decided to come to New York. I saw Evan with you on the dance floor tonight. I saw how much you care for each other.”

  She pauses and then looks me straight in the eyes as she speaks. “I’ve done you a great disservice,” she sighs, disappointment evident. “And an even greater one to my son. I wanted to give him what he needed instead of what he wanted, only to discover tonight, that what he wanted was really what he needed.” She laughs at herself, but there’s no humor as she finally releases my arm. “I owe you an apology, Mallory. I’m sorry for how I treated you in Hawaii. And I apologize for calling on your birthday.”

  “What call?” Evan asks, walking toward us in pajama pants while rubbing his hair dry with a towel. We must look so domestic to his mother right now and I love it.

  Mrs. Ashford’s eyes flash from his to mine and back. I can’t say I feel the relief or the smugness that I thought I would feel when I imagined her apologizing. I’ve always wanted her to accept me in Evan’s life, but now I actually feel bad for her, knowing Evan will flip if he finds out the full details what she said on that call.

  I turn around and smile, reassuring him. “Your mother is apologizing.”

  “For what?” His suspicions are getting the best of him.

  I touch his bicep, and say, “She’s being very kind. I say we give her the floor to finish what she came here to say.”

  “Mother,” he starts again, ignoring my request. “You said something about a phone call on Mallory’s birthday. Why’d you call her?”

  “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but—”

  He turns to me, getting madder by the second. “I knew something happened and then that call on the night of the Mayoral award. You mentioned my mother, but you didn’t tell me what she said.”

  “I’m not on trial here, Evan. Yes, she called. Yes, what she said affected my mood, but it made me think too. I only wanted what was best for yo—”

  “You’re best for me!” He raises his voice as he backs away, leaning against the couch. Looking down, he runs his hands through his hair. “You tried to act normal, but I could hear your doubts about us.” With a sharp glare to his mother, he accuses. “You did that. Whatever you said to her made her doubt us. All the good we had was questioned because of you.”

  “Evan,” I reply, going to him. I stand between his legs, caressing his face in my hands. “I never doubted us. I just didn’t want to be the one who kept you from being—”

  “Bullshit!” He yells, making me jump. “You will not do that anymore. I don’t give a fuck about a degree or a job or anything if I don’t have you.” He grabs me by the wrists, pulling me close then takes my face in his hands. “It’s meaningless without you. Don’t you see that?”

  “I was trying to protect your future and my heart.”

  “That’s my job. I will never hurt you. I’m only here to protect and take care of you. Please believe me when I tell you that you make my life worth living.” He kisses me, one hand flipping the towel off of my head and weaving into the wet strands while the other wraps around my lower back. I think he’s forgotten, or doesn’t care, that his mother is standing five feet away from him.

  A gentle cough, clearing of the throat, is all I manage in a weak attempt to stop him from going further. I nod in the direction of his mother—an unsubtle reminder of her presence.

  With his lips still against mine, he asks, “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes,” I say against the plush of his mouth and with my eyes still closed. “Yes, Evan, I believe you.”

  He turns his head and when I open my eyes, his eyes narrow on his mom. “Mother, you can support us—”

  “Evan,” I try and stop him before he says anything more.

  “Not now. I need to say this—”

  “No, just listen. Please,” I beg.

  “One minute. Mother, you can support us or fuck off. I don’t give a damn about appearances or the social BS—”

  “Evan! Stop!” I yell which startles him.

  “I thought you’d appreciate me standing up for us.”

  I throw my hands onto his bare chest to calm him down. “I do. I really do,” I say, hoping he lets me say what I need to say. “But your mother is the one who flew me to New York. She does support us… now.” I glance at her quickly before turning back to Evan. “That’s why she’s here tonight. You missed all the stuff about what you want versus what she thought you needed, blah, blah, blah… oh sorry. No offense, Mrs. Ashford.”

  She waves her hand in the air as if it’s no big deal. I turn back to Evan whose mouth has dropped open.

  “I am thoroughly fucking confused,” he says.

  “I know. That’s why I’m trying to explain. Yes, she was horrible to me in Hawaii and even downright cruel when she called me during your visit in September. But she also called me last week asking me to visit you. She bought me a plane ticket because I couldn’t afford it. She wants you to be happy and she told me she realized that I make you happy.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” His gaze flows from me to his mother and back again.

  “Well,” I whisper, “I was going to when I surprised you in your office, but we didn’t get around to discussing much. And like you, I wanted it to only be about us after that.”

  “I’m glad it was.” He looks at me with a soft smile before turning to his mother and asking, “You really came here to apologize to Mallory?”

  “Yes, I wanted to do it in person and I owe you one as well. Our talk at that bar got me thinking. I haven’t given Mallory a fair chance. I could give you a million reasons why I didn’t, but none of them matter because you do matter and I’m happier when you’re happy and she’s what makes you happy.” She looks at me and says, “Mallory, as I said before, I apologize for my behavior. I think you’re exactly what my son needs.”

  My heart softens toward my former arch-nemesis, now my future mother-in-law. “Thank you, Mrs. Ashford. That means more to me than you know.”

  “Please call me Claire,” she says, smiling at me.

  “Thank you. I will, Claire.” Remembering I have only a T-shirt on and nothing underneath, I stay close to Evan. “I would hug you, but—” I start to say, pointing at my shirt.

  Evan tucks me behind him. “Mallory has a problem with answering the door half-naked.”

  “Not helping, honey,” I say, hitting him on the back.

  Claire turns to open the door. “I should leave you two. I didn’t mean to interrupt your night, but you disappeared from the gala so fast I didn’t have a chance to speak with you.”

  “I appreciate you coming by,” I say, smiling while peeking around Evan. Why I’m bothering with hiding now I have no idea.

  His mother opens the door and steps into the hallway. Before she closes it, she says, “I know we have some work to do to repair the damage I’ve done to our relationships, but I’m willing to try and I hope you are too.”

  “Hey Mom, thanks. What you said means a lot to me.”

  She focuses on him for a second and I can see the hope in her eyes. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” we say in unison as the door shuts behind her. The weight that has dragged us down for so long now gone and disappeared with the gesture of his mother’s support.

  Evan turns around and smirks. “Now that we have that settled, what do you say about breaking in the leather sofa out here?”

  “You, sir, are incorrigible.” I feign annoyance then laugh while hopping up on the arm of the couch. “Now drop your drawers and let’s christen thi
s sofa.”

  His smile gives him away, but with a nod of his head and raised eyebrows, I can tell he’s totally turned on. “Like I always say, ladies first.”

  “Since I don’t have any underwear on, I guess I’ll take the shirt off.”

  He licks his lips watching as I remove the shirt over my head and toss it across the room. His pants drop to the floor and without another word, we christen the couch… and the kitchen counter… and the shower.

  What can I say, I missed my surfer.

  14

  Evan

  “I don’t want to,” I say, standing firm.

  “Evan?” Mallory pouts, which makes her puckered lips quite a distraction. She puts her hands on her hips, and demands, “Do it.”

  “No.”

  “Honey, please.”

  “Fine.” I give in because it makes her happy, which makes me happy. Also, because when she’s happy I get sex and I like sex, so it benefits us both.

  “Wow! That was easy.”

  “You can be very persuasive when you stick that bottom lip out like that,” I say, toying with it.

  “Good to know. I’ll pocket that information away to use at a later date.” She winks at me.

  “I bet you will. C’mon on. Shake a leg, lady.”

  “Oh, who’s all showy and shit now?”

  “I am.” I laugh as I push off with the tip of my ice skate leaving her in my icy dust.

  “Just so you know, I used to skate competitively when I was little,” she announces, chasing me.

  “Prove it.”

  “Are you really challenging a girl from Colorado when it comes to ice skating?”

  She skates by me, slapping my ass in the process. Moving ahead, she spins backwards and ends with a little flourish of her arms and a bow.

  “Okay,” I say, clearly losing to the ice skating queen when it comes to the rink. “You win.”

  She comes to a skidding stop in front of me, chest-to-chest. Grasping my shirt tightly with her gloved hands, she asks, “What’d I win?”