by Piper Rayne
* * *
We say goodbye to my parents at the airport. I watch them climb into a taxi, and when they drive away, so does any reason for me to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, or wrap my arms around her.
She’s quiet on the way to my condo. The countdown until Ryder returns feels like a bomb ticking off the seconds in my head.
“Busy day tomorrow?” I ask, keeping my head buried in my phone as the cab makes its way to my condo.
She doesn’t look up from hers. “Yeah, we’re doing a rehearsal for the recital this coming Saturday.”
“Right, I remember you mentioning that now.” I was going to take her to dinner on our last night before Ryder returned, but I guess that’s out now. How do we end this? With a handshake?
“I’ll probably be late most nights this week.” She gives me a half smile, and I’m not sure if that’s an ‘it sucks, I’d rather be screwing you’ smile or if it means something else.
“I’m behind on a few things. I’ve taken off more time this past month than the last ten years,” I say.
She nods, her thumb running over the screen.
We’re quiet the rest of the way to my condo. When the taxi stops at the curb, I exit first, offering her my hand. She accepts, but it still feels like we’re a disgruntled couple who’s been married for twenty-five years and silently loathe one another. How can the energy between us change so much from one city to the next?
I open the condo and she heads to her bedroom wordlessly, so I head to mine. After I shower and change into sweatpants and a T-shirt, I decide to pay her a visit. I’ll never be able to concentrate at work if I don’t know what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.
I knock on her bedroom door, and she says come in. When I open the door, I see that she’s also showered and in her pajamas, which consists of another pair of silky shorts and a lacy cami that turns her nipples into a beacon for my gaze. She’s putting lotion on her arms and only spares me a brief glance.
“Talk to me,” I say, sitting on the edge of her bed. “What are you thinking?”
She shrugs, concentrating on working the lotion into her skin.
“Valentina?”
“The wedding was our timeline, right? It’s over, so we can contact the lawyer about the annulment and get things rolling again.” She moves to her legs, propping one up on the bed.
“Is that what you want?” I could kick myself for asking.
“Ryder’s returning. That was the deal.”
I put my hand on hers, and she looks at me. “I asked if it’s what you want?”
She stops and sits next to me, blowing out a breath. “Why is everything so complicated with us?” There’s a hitch in her voice.
“I have no idea, but I’m not ready for this to end. We have a week. Let’s make the most of it.”
It’s a bad idea, and her skeptical look says she knows it.
“And after Ryder returns, then what?”
“It’ll be easier. You’ll be back home with him and we’ll just coexist when we see each other. You know when we’re in close proximity we can’t control ourselves, but…”
She pumps the lotion again and rubs it on her other leg. “It’s still not going to be easy to walk away.”
“I know. But I’m not ready to say goodbye tonight.” This is the most honest I’ve been with Val since I was sixteen and stupid. I still blame my dick for saying that sappy shit about her being my one and only.
“I’m not ready either.”
I shift to face her better. “So we’ll enjoy ourselves this last week. Fuck like teenagers. And come Sunday morning, it’s D-day?”
She bites her lip and nods.
“Perfect,” I say. It’s anything but perfect.
I lean in, my lips pressing to hers, and she falls down on the mattress as I position myself on top of her. Her one leg winds around mine. I’ve never been happier to be free-balling it under my sweats.
“We’re the stupidest people. You know that, right? What everyone must think of us.”
I press my finger to her lips, my other hand sliding her silk cami up and over her breasts. “We don’t care what other people think. All we need to think about is what we want.” I take one of her nipples into my mouth, my teeth scraping the sensitive bud.
Her hand weaves through my damp hair, her heels digging into my ass. “Bite me.”
I nibble on her skin, leaving a mark right above her nipple, and she groans, pressing my head into her breast.
“Harder.”
I find a new spot to torment, always loving that she’s just as into the biting and sucking as I am. I didn’t figure that out until right before she married Max. I bit her and she came. After that, it’s always been that way with us. Whether it was slow or fast, I’ve always marked her.
I grind my hard cock against her center, and she rocks into me, meeting me thrust for thrust. At some point, I raise up on my knees and she pulls me out of my sweatpants, palming my hard dick.
My lips hover above hers as I pull aside the silky fabric of her shorts, allowing the tip of my dick to pierce her opening. Kissing Val is like kissing no other woman. Feelings I’ve ignored for most of my life emerge, and for a moment while our hands explore and our tongues slide, I think that maybe we could win this fight.
Then I push all thoughts out of my head. Her soft skin is under my fingers and I roll onto my back, bringing her over to straddle me. She positions herself above me and my hands mold to her hips.
“Ride me?” I ask.
She takes no time to guide my dick back inside her warm entrance. She rocks over me and I latch my mouth onto a nipple, playing with the erect bud with my tongue before falling back onto the mattress.
I watch her above me. Her long hair is pulled into a bun on top of her head, she’s bare-chested, and her shorts are still slid over to make room for me. She’s so beautiful, I can barely stand to look at her with the thought that I might have to go months without seeing her again.
With my thoughts getting out of control again, I flip us back over and tear her shorts off her body, kicking off my own sweatpants. Kneeling on the bed, I use her ankles to pull her back to me, thrusting hard inside her again. The delicious friction does us both in and she grabs a pillow then scrapes her fingers along my torso like it’s killing her not to touch me.
“Dom,” she sighs.
My balls tense because my name coming off her lips is as hot as the sweaty mess she’s becoming under me. Somewhere in the mix, I fall on her, unable to resist kissing her again. The sweat mixes between us and my eyes are closed, my mind, my heart, and my soul filled to the brim with all things Valentina. She shatters underneath me. Two seconds later, I thrust, pumping into her and explode inside her.
I roll us over, and we lie on her bed on our backs until our breathing returns to normal.
“Hungry?” I ask, because it’s a reason to get me out of this room.
“If you’re cooking, always.”
I kiss her shoulder and crawl off the bed before grabbing my sweatpants from the floor. Before I leave the room, I’m about to ask if there’s anything in particular she feels like eating, but Val disappears behind the door of the bathroom.
I guess I’m not the only one who wants to pretend that the idea of ending this isn’t torture.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Valentina
* * *
I’m exhausted by the time I insert my key into Dom’s lock on Monday night. I was up most of the night before with Dom, eating, having sex, and watching television. I feel as though I need to soak up every second we have together before the week is over.
I push the door open, and a woman’s voice stops me in my tracks until I see Blanca on the couch, typing on her phone. Dom turns toward me and smiles. I can’t even explain the feeling that courses through my body when his smile is directed at me. He’s usually so guarded, he downplays a lot of the enjoyment.
“You’re home earlier than I thought.” He rises fr
om the couch to greet me.
“I finished up some admin stuff faster than I thought, and I don’t have to teach tonight.”
His lips press to my cheek and his strong palm to my lower back. “She’s staying for dinner,” he whispers in my ear.
“Okay,” I say. Blanca was like my little sister until I ended up as a mother and a wife.
“Wine?” he asks, already heading to the kitchen, where a bottle and one glass sits on the island.
“Val!” Blanca finally notices and stands, holding her own wine glass. “How are you?” She gives me a hug and a kiss on each cheek before sliding into a chair in front of the breakfast bar.
Dom pours me a glass of white wine and opens the oven, checking on whatever he’s making. He got home early enough to cook?
I glance at the microwave clock to find it’s only six o’clock. It isn’t like him to leave early on a Monday. I swear it’s his favorite day of the week.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the glass. An electric current rushes between us as our fingers brush.
“How’s married life?” Blanca asks.
I tilt my head and study her. Surely, she knows this is a ruse?
“It’s good. Ryder returns next week from Europe,” Dom says.
I can’t tell if he’s changing the subject on purpose.
“Oh, I saw his pictures on Instagram. I really need to get my ass in gear and get over to the Motherland.” She laughs before sipping more wine.
I sit in the chair next to her. “You follow Ryder on Instagram?”
“Yeah, is that a problem? He friended me a few years ago after we figured out you were the common denominator. He’s good friends with my friend’s little brother.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Ty Ricci. I’m friends with his older sister, Jemma.”
I nod, remembering Ty from Ryder’s grade school before we moved to Manhattan permanently after the divorce. It’s embarrassing that I didn’t know they were still in contact.
“We both ended up at the Ricci house once, and I said how you used to date Dom. I hope that was okay?”
“Of course, no worries.” I touch her hand in a reassuring manner.
Dom doesn’t turn around from whatever he’s doing at the stove.
“And look, you two ended up together.” She eyes my hand. “Where’s your ring?”
I stare at my left hand. My bare left hand. Wearing it felt weird since our charade is supposedly over. Dom turns around, staring at me with questions in his eyes.
“Work. I didn’t want it to snag any of the dance outfits. You know all those delicate fabrics.”
Dom gives us his back and Blanca stares at me like “okay whatever.”
“Go put it on now. I’m sure it kills you to take it off,” Blanca says.
I slide off the stool. “It does. I’ll be right back.”
Heading down the hall, I snag my purse on the way, pulling out my phone.
Me: Does Blanca think our marriage is real??
No response.
Me: Dom!?
Finally I hear him tell Blanca he’s got to return this email and to give him a second.
Dom: She doesn’t know. She’ll tell Ma.
Me: I hate all this lying.
Dom: It’s just Blanca.
Me: She’s your sister.
Dom: Exactly, my sister.
I throw the phone on the bed and sit down. Why am I annoyed that he’s keeping our secret from his sister? He kept it from his cousins. He kept it from the people at his work. I won’t see Blanca again until this charade is over.
I dig the ring out of my underwear drawer and slide it onto my left hand. It really is gorgeous—exactly what I would’ve picked—but I hate that it represents our fake marriage. I fist my left hand as I walk back into the main living space.
“Your blog is great. Why haven’t you told any of us about it before?” Dom’s leaning over the counter with a computer in front of him. Three plates with a chicken dish and garden vegetables sit to the side.
“Because I went to school for business. I should do something with my degree. This is just for fun.”
“What is it?” I sit on the stool, and Dom swivels the computer my way.
“Blanca writes a blog.” He steps aside and opens the silverware drawer.
The blog is well organized with a bright logo that reads “Post College, What Do You Do Now?”
“I started it anonymously when I graduated and was searching for a job. I needed to vent to someone and who better than strangers? Once I found the job in banking and started making money, I blogged about what it’s like to start your life journey after college. You know dating, finding an apartment, how to stretch a dollar.”
I scroll through to find that it’s very professional and screams Blanca. “Who’s your photographer?”
She laughs. “Me.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Do they look amateur?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
I skim a few articles, and it’s clear to me that she has a way with words. I want to eat up each and every one of them and I’m not even her target audience.
“I only have time to write in it four times a week now because of my work schedule. I find myself missing it.”
I slide the computer back toward her, planning on looking it up later and reading all her posts. “A lot of people make money off blogging.”
She shrugs. “I had a few people reach out to sponsor me. Makeup and health people mostly. They send me their goodies and I promote them. But trying to make this a bigger source of income would be a huge jump and my parents spent a fortune on my college degree. How do I just walk away from that?”
I nod, understanding all too well.
“I’ll handle our parents. Blanca, if you don’t love banking, then don’t do it. You’ll never succeed if you don’t love it.”
Dom’s words surprise me, and I lean back, sipping my wine.
“Easy for you to say. You love a lucrative career.” The corners of her lips tip down in a way that reminds me of her brother when I’ve said something he doesn’t like.
He shrugs. “Yeah, but money is the driving force for me. It’s different.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Why he always felt the need to make so much money, I never understood.
“Don’t we know it.” Blanca rolls her eyes at me.
“Let’s remember who loaned you money before you found your job.” Dom scoops up the silverware and brings it over to the dining table.
Blanca nods and looks down. “It’s just such a risk.”
“Let me tell you about starting a non-lucrative career,” I say.
Blanca turns to me while Dom takes the three plates to the table. He says, “Come and eat while you tell us the story of Valentina Daniella Cavallo.”
I stick my tongue out at him for using the running joke about my name from our childhood and he chuckles, heading over to the sofa to grab his wine. We all settle around the table and Blanca waits for me to speak.
“I wanted to be a dancer, and I was in my last year of college. I had a few leads to be in a chorus on Broadway, but I became pregnant with Ryder.”
Blanca nods because everyone in Carroll Gardens knows my story. How I married the wrong man after getting knocked up. What an embarrassment it was to my parents.
“After I had him, I knew there was no way I’d be able to dance again. Dancers keep strange hours and I had no one to watch Ryder. Your body changes after a baby and I didn’t have the time to dedicate to keeping in shape the way I needed to. By the time he was three, I decided I had to do something in dance, even if I wasn’t dancing myself. So Max agreed to fund my first studio.”
Dom’s knife slides on his plate, and a huge screech reverberates around his condo.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“I had so much to learn. I had never taught small kids before and I had to figure out how to keep the books and what to charge to make sure I wa
s in the black. How to schedule classes and keep the parents happy. How to make sure I was hiring employees who would represent the studio in a good way. There were some hard years but look at my business now. I have three locations, and though I’m not making a name for myself as a dancer, I am as a dance director. Sometimes you have to alter your plans, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad thing.”
She pokes her fork into the vegetables. “Who taught you all that? The business side of things.”
I eye Dom because he did help me until we realized we couldn’t be around one another. It was a brief month of meetings during his lunch hour or after hours. I’d have Ryder with me, and to this day, I hate that I hid it from Max. Nothing inappropriate ever happened, but the energy between us was palpable, and I think we both knew that if we continued spending so much time with each other, the outcome wouldn’t be good.
“Just books and stuff.” I shrug.
“Dom would’ve totally helped you, I bet. He helped me do a budget after I got my job. Set me up with how to save and…”
I’m sure he did—because she’s his sister. I was the woman he wanted in his bed, but back then, I wore another man’s ring.
“Just do it, Blanca. I’ll help you if you need it,” Dom says.
“You’re young. Don’t waste your future on something you don’t really care for. It won’t end well.” I feel like a fraud for giving her advice without telling her Dom and I are acting.
But she nods, and we leave it at that. We fill the rest of the meal with talk about Luca’s wedding and how happy Maria was to show off the women her boys have found love with.
At the end of the evening, Blanca hugs me goodbye. Then she rises on her tiptoes and hugs Dom, whispering something I can’t hear. She leaves with directions from Dom to text him when she makes it home. When the door shuts, Dom pulls me to him, his fingers threading through my hair and his lips locking on mine.
Once we come up for air, he rests his forehead against mine. “I’ve waited all day for that.”
At times like this, I wonder how good of an actor Dom is, because he seems like he desperately means the words, but there were no hidden touches or longing gazes over dinner.