The Secret Mistress Arrangement

by Kimberly Lang

  “About the same. Busy.”

  Ella shook her head. “You work too hard. Too many long hours in the office isn’t good for a person, you know. Fresh air is important.”

  “I’m getting some now. What could be fresher than a sea breeze?”

  She ran her finger along the edge of her glass and licked the salt away, tormenting him further. “Still, I can’t think of anything I’d be willing to do for sixty or seventy hours a week. No matter how enjoyable.”

  Heat moved through him again. The beer wasn’t helping. He waited until he caught her eye, then held her gaze far too long before moving his eyes deliberately downward. When he finally returned to her face, her pupils were dilated and color flagged her cheeks.

  “I can think of something.”

  He heard Ella’s breath catch, and she looked away. A split second later, he heard her signal for the server.

  “Check, please.”

  Need bordering on pain flooded in, displacing the flash of disappointment he’d felt when she’d broken eye contact. He fished out his wallet and threw a stack of bills on the table. Grabbing Ella’s hand, he scooted out of the booth and sprinted for the parking lot with her in tow.

  Ella slid into the passenger seat of his rental as he cranked the engine. Unable to wait any longer, he dragged her into his lap and found her lips. She moaned, pouring gasoline on the flames licking him.

  In the past week, he’d decided he was remembering Chicago wrong—that no woman could taste that good or feel so perfect in his arms. But the reality proved the memory true. He reached for the seat control, reclining the back and giving them more room.

  His hands found the hem of her T-shirt and slid under to feel the soft skin of her belly contract at his touch. Ella’s nails dug into his shoulders as his fingers moved higher to find the swell of breast above the lace-edged cup of her bra. She hissed, arching into his hand, and the hard point of her nipple pressed into his palm. She rocked against him, and he grabbed hold of her hips to increase the friction.

  She was fumbling with the snap of his jeans when loud catcalls and a thump on the hood brought him forcefully back to reality. Three teenage boys stood in front of the car, whistling and making suggestions.

  Sanity returned. Sweet heaven, he was seconds from taking her in the front seat of a car in a parking lot like some horny high-schooler.

  Five minutes. He would have to hold on for the five minutes it would take to get her back to the house.

  Ignoring Ella’s moan of protest, he moved her back to her seat and threw the car into gear.

  Ella’s hand snaked into his lap to rest on his thigh, only inches from the part of his anatomy controlling him at the moment. Her fingers moved slightly, causing the muscle in his thigh to jump. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, trying to concentrate on the road. “Dammit, Ella! Are you trying to get us killed?”

  In the darkness of the car, he heard her whisper, “Hurry.”

  The gravel in her driveway crunched under the tires and he slammed the gearshift into Park. Ella was already out of the car and turning the key in the lock as he caught up.

  The lock disengaged, and the door swung open. Scooping Ella up in one arm, he closed the door with the other as her mouth clamped on his.

  Those legs finally wrapped around his waist, and she murmured, “First door on the left,” against his lips as her fingers threaded through his hair.

  Ella’s bedroom. Thank heaven. Two more steps and he wouldn’t have to worry about taking her on the floor.

  The bed groaned as they landed on it. Ella struggled to her knees, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. In one swift movement he had his shirt over his head, and with his assistance her shirt and bra joined it on the floor a second later. Ella’s head dropped back when his hands cupped her breasts, and she grabbed his shoulders for support as he thumbed her nipples to quivering peaks. When his mouth replaced his fingers, her nails scored across his back.

  “Matt,” she whispered.

  The husky sound of his name on her lips scorched through him. It was easy enough to sweep her off her knees and onto her back where he quickly freed her from her jeans.

  He ran his hands across the smooth skin of her hips, reacquainting himself with the feel of her as Ella’s hands worked fast at his zipper. Then it was his turn to groan as delicate fingers wrapped firmly around him, sending hot bolts of lightning through his veins.

  Pulling Ella under him, he whispered an apology in advance. “This won’t be slow and easy.”

  “Good,” she panted, and his heart thudded in his chest.

  Ella was wet and warm as he slid into her. He struggled to keep his sanity as she moved beneath him, matching his rhythm. He felt the tiny shudders begin, heard the breathy moans that meant she was close.

  Her hands fisted in the sheets and she arched against him, shouting his name and pushing him over the edge.

  His last clear thought, though, would’ve sent Ella running for the door.

  The shifting of the bed woke her up. Exhausted from more than three hours of nonstop sex, she’d finally fallen asleep around midnight, overly aware of Matt’s big body taking up a large portion of her bed.

  Again.

  In an odd way she didn’t want to examine too closely, it felt perfectly natural to have him next to her. Not that her bed had felt empty or anything, but it had felt strange to sleep alone after sharing a bed with him. When Matt eased out from under the covers, she knew it. When he didn’t return within a few minutes, she rolled to her side and pried her eyes open. Searching the dark room, she saw him in front of the sliding door of her bedroom, looking out over the beach.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  He started at her voice, then came to kneel at the edge of the bed. He had put on his jeans, she noticed, but nothing else. Her mouth watered at the sight of his broad chest, shocking her a little. After several mind-blowing orgasms, she should be all sexed out.

  Obviously not.

  Moonlight streamed in through the glass, giving Matt a slightly otherworldly glow as he stroked her hair back out of her face.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s fine. What were you looking at?”

  “The beach. The moon’s bright enough to make the sand glow. Pretty cool.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  Matt leaned on his elbows, causing the bed to dip and making her roll slightly toward him. “Why don’t we go for a walk on the beach?”

  “A walk?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. At his enthusiastic nod, she glanced blearily at the clock. “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

  “But there’s a full moon and you’re not sleeping anyway.”

  “It wouldn’t kill either of us to try,” she grumbled.

  “Come on. It’ll be romantic.”

  Matt was obviously keen on this walk idea. She needed sleep, but since he’d done everything short of turn her inside out to pleasure her this evening, she could humor him on this.

  “All right.” She stretched, then gathered her clothes from the floor. “But I’m sleeping late tomorrow morning, and I expect you to cook breakfast.”

  “Deal.” Matt broke into a brilliant smile and she realized she couldn’t stay grumpy at him for long.

  The night breeze coming off the water was cool, and she grabbed a sweatshirt to pull over her head as they headed toward the beach. At the head of the boardwalk, Roscoe appeared like magic, barking happily.

  “Shh, you’ll wake the neighborhood.” The puppy sped away down the steps, reappearing as an inky spot on the snow-white beaches ahead. He barked as if encouraging them to hurry.

  Matt reached for her hand and held it as they walked comfortably in silence. Occasionally a crab, glowing white under the moon, would skitter across the sand toward a wave, but other than Roscoe, they were alone on the beach. It was quite romantic, like something out of a movie, and she felt as if they were the only two people on earth at the moment.
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br />   Matt broke the silence first. “Is it always this quiet down here at night?”

  “Pretty much. It’s almost all residential this far down the beach. The rentals are all houses—no condos or hotels, you’ll notice—so we mostly get families. The college kids like to stay farther up the beach in Gulf Shores, so we miss a lot of that noise and hassle. This time of year, though, it’s mostly just locals, and they are asleep at three in the morning,” she finished pointedly.

  Roscoe came bounding back to check on them, circling once and nudging her hand for a pat of affection before heading off to sniff in the sand dunes.

  “You think you could get him to go home?” Matt asked suddenly.

  She blinked at the strange change of topic. “It’s doubtful. Why? Don’t you like dogs?”

  “I like dogs just fine, but I hadn’t counted on having one for company just now. He’s cramping my style.”

  “Oh, please. What style?”

  She was treated to an overdramatic sigh that was quite amusing coming from a big guy like Matt.

  “A beautiful moonlit night on the beach, a beautiful woman…My plans involved seducing you and making love on the beach in the moonlight, but that’s very hard to do with Roscoe about.”

  Don’t laugh. She bit her lip, but Matt looked so exasperated that a small giggle escaped anyway. “You tourist boys. You’ve watched way too many movies. The last place on earth you’d want to have sex is on the beach. You get sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places.”

  Matt arched that eyebrow at her, making her want to yank it back down. “And you know this from personal experience?”

  “As a teenager, I did my fair share of making out on the beach—mostly with tourist boys who had the same notion as you. In theory, it’s great, but the reality is scratchy. My friend Sara used to call it ‘sandpaper sex.’” Matt winced, and she nodded. “So Roscoe or no Roscoe, there’s no way you’re getting lucky out here. At least not with me, that is.”

  “Another horribly romantic idea killed by your pragmatism.”

  “Sorry.” She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. “But walking is nice, too. You can get lucky back at the house later.”

  Matt perked up at that. “I’ll race you.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Come on, you’re the track star. Let’s see you run.”

  She couldn’t resist the challenge in his voice, and she took off down the beach. Running on sand was tough on her knees and ankles, but she quickly put distance between her and Matt. Roscoe, yapping excitedly at the change of events, ran at her side, and they both beat Matt to the boardwalk by a full half-minute.

  “Damn, girl, you are fast.” He sat on the wooden stairs with a loud groan. “I guess I need to add more cardio to my workout.” He took deep gulping breaths before adding, “You don’t happen to have a defibrillator at the house, do you?”

  Ella massaged a burning thigh muscle, unable to dredge up any sympathy. “You’re the one who wanted to race, tough guy. It’s not my fault your ego had to take a beating.” She took a deep breath herself. “I’m so out of shape.”

  “Your shape looks pretty good to me.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She was feeling magnanimous after her win. “Let’s go in. I need a drink of water, and you can throw a few more compliments my way.” As Matt pulled himself to his feet with a groan, she added, “I may have shot down your romantic From Here to Eternity moment, but I can offer you a hammock on the side porch with a nice view of the ocean.”

  “A hammock, you say?”

  “It’s romantic, yet it has a degree of difficulty built in. You interested?”

  “Very,” he said, as he took off briskly toward the house, leaving her standing where she was and feeling slightly bewildered.

  He was halfway to the house when she heard, “Race you!”

  “Men,” she muttered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I CAN’T believe I didn’t know how much fun a hammock could be.” Matt dropped one long leg over the side and set the hammock gently swinging.

  Ella laughed as she snuggled closer under the quilt covering them both. Once the sun went down, the temperatures dropped dramatically, and she was thankful for the warmth radiating off him. “Glad to know I’m providing new experiences for you.”

  There were worse ways to spend a Saturday. She thought back to the many plans she’d had for today—boring work around the house, mostly—all traded for a easy day of listening to the surf while lying half-naked in Matt’s arms. Once again, Matt managed to turn her life from predicable to decadent with one lazy grin.

  She didn’t want to move from the warm cocoon where she was idly tracing circles on Matt’s chest, but the grumble in her stomach meant they’d have to search for dinner soon enough.

  “My neighbor runs an art gallery.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t want pizza, but what else could she get delivered out here?

  “I was telling her about you. She’s willing to take a look if you’ll send her some pictures of your stuff.”

  Her hand stilled. “What?”

  “She says they’re always looking for new artists, and if she likes what she sees—and I know she will—she’ll show it in the gallery.”

  The thought of having her art in an Atlanta gallery sent a jolt through her. That was the stuff of pipe dreams; she knew she wasn’t good enough to make that leap.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I’m not quite gallery material.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She cleared her throat. “You have many fine qualities and a decent knowledge of art, but that doesn’t necessarily make you qualified to evaluate it.” She patted his arm to lighten the moment. “Stick to lawyering.”

  Matt tried to sit up, sending the hammock swaying dangerously and destroying the warm cocoon she’d built. She grabbed for the edge to keep from flipping out, then wrapped the quilt around her shoulders.

  “And who else has been ‘evaluating’ your work recently?”

  “What?”

  “Seems to me that if you’re not putting your stuff out there, you don’t have much of an idea of whether you’re any good or not.”

  She sighed. “Matt, I know enough—”

  “And I say you’re not the best judge of your own work.” Matt fished a business card out of his back pocket. “Send some slides to Gillian. See what she says. What do you have to lose?”

  Only my pride. “I told you, it’s just a hobby.”

  “But you’ll never know unless you try. Take the chance, El.” A smirk of challenge curled across his face. “I dare you.”

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. “You dare me? Are we back in junior high? You sound twelve.”

  “Damn it, El. Take a chance for once and quit being so damn careful about everything. You can’t be totally in control all the time. Sometimes you just have to let go and see what happens.”

  There was a heated undertone in his voice she didn’t understand. Something other than just her paintings had him worked up. She swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood, making Matt grasp for the ropes this time to keep from landing flat on the porch.

  “What exactly are we talking about now?”

  Matt hesitated, and the silence stretched out between them. Finally he sat on the edge of the hammock and braced his feet on the weathered boards. He raised an eyebrow. “Us.”

  Shock slammed into her. “Us? Like with a capital U? I didn’t think there’s an ‘Us’ to be discussing.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Good lord, the boy was frustrating. “Now there’s ‘fault’? You’ve lost me, Matt.”

  “Don’t even try to play ignorant. You’re a lot smarter than that, and I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  You know you do, a little voice inside her said. With Matt, though, there was no telling where his brain was, and no sense in arguing with him, either. “I’m going in and ordering pizza. Are you hungry?”


  She was barely inside the house before Matt caught her arm. Damn his long legs.

  “Avoidance? Changing the subject? Come on, Ella, I expected more from you.”

  That tripped her trigger. “What do you expect from me, Matt? Are your feelings hurt because I wouldn’t drop everything and dash off to New Orleans this weekend? Is that it?”

  “Partly.”

  “You’re going to have to be clearer than that. Whatever it is you’re dancing around with this gallery business and assigning ‘fault,’ I wish you’d just spell it out. I thought we agreed to no games.”

  Matt looked uncomfortable as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. The play of muscle under skin distracted her momentarily, but the loud exhale brought her focus back.

  “You want honesty? Fine, I’ll be honest. I understand we both went into this with no expectations, but that was before we got to know each other. There’s something more between us than just sex—I’m not entirely sure how to describe it—but I think it’s worth exploring. I know you feel it, too. Every time I try to move closer, though, you pull away.”

  Her heart stopped beating momentarily, then came back with a hard thud against her chest. “We’ve only known each other for that week and a few e-mails.”

  “Everything has to start somewhere, El.”

  “But this has nowhere to go,” she whispered.

  “I think it does. You just have to give it a chance.”

  Oh, rubbish. “And then what? You live in Atlanta.”

  “So? We work around that.”

  “How exactly?”

  “Well…”

  Matt’s well of ready responses finally ran dry. She snorted before she could stop herself. “That’s what I thought.”

  It was his turn to get frustrated, and the heat returned to his voice. “That’s what I mean, El,” he snapped. “Just because there’s not a clear plan right now, that doesn’t mean it isn’t workable. You have to take a chance sometimes. You jump in and make it work.”

  “I just started a job here. I’m renovating a house. Neither of which will benefit from me running up the roads every weekend.”