The Ex (17 page)
We both slipped from the kitchen just as Neil was entering the dining room. He gave me a puzzled expression, and I mouthed, “later.” He appeared to mull over whether to pursue it, but his crooked smile told me he’d decided against it.
I thought back to Neil’s party the year before. Two hundred people, packed into a nightclub with deafening music and free-flowing booze, but it didn’t hold a candle to being with actual friends in our own house. But that damned book was always in the back of my mind, beating like a telltale heart just down the hallway.
I was going to have to tell Neil about it, and Valerie was right, the sooner the better. But how?
After the last guest had gone—and Neil had unsuccessfully tried to badger Emma and Michael into accepting a guest room because of the late hour—we ended up in the kitchen. Slumped side by side at the table with a piece of cake between us, we were stealing a quiet moment to celebrate the day together.
Neil drowsily contemplated the bite on his fork. “I’m torn between eating until I burst, or stopping now in the hopes of having birthday sex tonight.”
I sighed happily. “I give you birthday sex three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year, baby.”
“That you do.” He took the final bite and pushed the plate toward me. “Tell me what happened with Ian?”
My sense of easy peace punctured somewhat. “He and Gena are separating.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” The pitch of Neil’s voice rose a little with shock.
“Did he say anything to you that night that they were here?”
Maybe anything to do with not wanting to sleep with us, that I would have really liked to know before we’d done it?
But I knew better. If Ian had expressed doubt to Neil, nothing would have happened that night.
“No,” Neil answered automatically, but he paused, a vertical frown line appearing between his brows. “Nothing that caught my attention at the time. But, in hindsight, I do recall that he made a remark about things being the same as ever with Gena’s family. They don’t like him.”
“And Gena said something when we were in the kitchen,” I remembered aloud. “She said he drinks a lot.”
“That he does,” Neil agreed. He drummed his fingertips on the table. “I was a bit worried about him leaving tonight. I sent him off with Tony.”
“Good idea.” The thought that his drinking might have had something to do with Ian’s split made my stomach turn over.
As always, Neil picked up on my subtle shift in mood; the man had missed a calling as a CIA interrogator. He reached across the table and covered my hand with his, pinning my gaze just as he pinned my fingers. “Sophie. I will never let that happen.”
I nodded, but I didn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t want to cry or fight about this on his birthday.
He lifted my hand between both of his and brought it to his lips. With a simple touch, he reassured me and lightened our brief moment of darkness, without bypassing the subject entirely. “You’ll be pleased to know that I had two drinks tonight, in total. And only one of them was whiskey.”
I traced a spiral on the tabletop. “I know that bar is really, really cool. And you stocked it up and everything—”
He sat back with a resigned sigh.
“Look,” I began, a little defensively. “All the websites I’ve been reading said you have to remove temptation. How are you going to quit drinking if you’re living in a house with a bunch of booze, and a very attractive setting to drink it in?”
“It’s not for drinking, it’s for…entertaining,” he finished. “I can have alcohol in the house. I don’t have to drink it.”
“A man of restraint, as always.” I teased, leaning into him.
“Or a man who likes restraints,” he reminded me. “Speaking of which…”
A little zing went up my spine. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of my chair then boosted me into his lap so quickly that I lost my breath. Our lips were centimeters apart. My pulse beat in the hollow of my throat, and I imagined his mouth there, his tongue swirling over that throbbing hollow.
I remembered he still held my hand when he suddenly jerked it toward the cake. I squealed and tried to pull away, dragging both of our fingers through the frosting, and we laughed so hard we bumped foreheads.
“Well, I was coming in here to see if you needed help cleaning up, but it looks like you’re just making more of a mess.” Mom shuffled from the swinging kitchen door to the island with a tray of glasses in her hands. “I think the caterer missed these.”
“No, those are from the bar.” I shook cake from my fingers. “Julia will get them in the morning.”
“I don’t mind.” Mom slid the tray onto the counter and flipped on the tap. I felt Neil tense behind me, and stood. I could have stayed in his lap all night, but obviously not with her right there.
“You don’t have to go on a cleaning spree,” I reminded her as I crossed the kitchen with the plate of mangled cake.
Neil got up and grabbed a paper towel to wipe frosting off his hands. “This sounds as though it may take a moment. I’m going to go to bed.”
“I’ll be right there,” I told him over my shoulder. Watching him walk to the door, I got a little shiver. The man had absolutely no intention of turning in; when I got to that bedroom, I had no idea what would be waiting. But I knew I would like it.
“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Mom said, checking her watch, a knock-off Pandora style with round charms. “It’s almost two-thirty.”
“It’s no problem.” It wasn’t like I was going to feel comfortable getting my ass-paddled with my mom still up and puttering around the house, anyway. “I haven’t completely forgotten how to wash a dish.”
“I didn’t think you had.” Mom didn’t sound defensive. She actually seemed like she was proud of me. “That was a great party tonight. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“Oh, well, we’re very impressive.” I nudged her with my arm.
But she wasn’t playing around. She half-turned, her wet hands still safely confined in the boundary of the sink. “I’m talking about you, Sophie. Not about Neil, or his money.”
“Oh.” I could take praise from my friends, from Neil, from total strangers, even, without a second thought. But my mom’s approval was harder to accept. Maybe because I wanted it so bad. So, I shrugged it off, like it was nothing to me. “Well, you know me. I love to party.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve never been a party girl.” Mom still studied me, her brows drawn together though her mouth smiled. “But there you were, keeping an eye on the food and the drinks, chatting with people. You were so poised and sure of yourself.”
“Okay, Mom,” I started to protest, because laughing her off would have been easier than just taking the compliment.
“No, I’m serious. You’re suddenly this adult that I’ve never noticed before.” She rolled her eyes at herself and went back to washing the glasses. “I know I didn’t see her when she came home for Christmas.”
“Well, that’s kind of my fault.” If I was an adult, all of a sudden, I had to accept some responsibility. “I should have been real with you about Neil and me, and I wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to expect you to deal with your shock and not express any of it.”
“That’s true.” She went quiet for a moment. “I know I reacted…badly. To your engagement.”
“You’ve been reacting badly for a while, Mom,” I pointed out dryly.
She pursed her lips and pretended she hadn’t heard me. “I would still be happier if you were marrying someone…”
“Twenty years younger?”
“More like you,” she finished dryly. “The two of you have nothing in common, you’re from different generations, your backgrounds are…very different. But I don’t know. The more time I spend with the two of you, the more I see two adults in a relationship together. Before, I was seeing my little girl and a man who was inappropriately older, who was probably taking advantage of her.”
“And, now, how do you see him?” I took a glass from her and dried it.
She considered a little longer than I would have liked. “Now, I see him as an inappropriately older man who loves my daughter and wants to make her happy. I can’t find a lot of fault in that.”
“Well, he does make me happy.” I shrugged a little. “If I were in your position, maybe I would be the same way.”
“I doubt it. You’re way more liberal than anyone could have expected you’d turn out.” Mom’s lips twisted in a wry smirk. She nodded toward the door. “Go on, go to bed. It’s been a long night.”
It was going to be a lot longer, but I think she must have suspected that, from the way she looked like she’d swallowed something yucky.
I leaned against the counter with one hand. “You should go to bed, too. Seriously, can you just enjoy living in a place where people do stuff for you, for a change?”
“I don’t want to get used to it, because it will suck when I go home.” But she folded the dishrag and rinsed her hands with glasses still in the sink.
My heart tugged in my chest. Mom hadn’t been with us that long, but now that she was here, I liked it. Not the comments on my weight or my relationship, or the way I was forced into the role of peacekeeper whenever she and my fiancé were in the same room, but after nearly a decade of not-quite-annual visits and brief phone calls, I wanted my mom back.
“You don’t have to go, you know.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate or anything for her to stay. “I mean, your daughter is a billionaire, now. You might want to consider taking advantage of that.”
“Oh, Sophie, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “What about your grandmother? What about the rest of the family?”
“There’s no reason you couldn’t see them as often as you wanted. We’ve got a jet.” It wouldn’t be the same as living so close she could check in on her mom every day, but it was better than if she’d moved to the east coast on her own salary. “Just think about it, okay? While you’re waiting to hear from the insurance people.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she conceded reluctantly. To change the subject, she covered a fake yawn with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I should go to bed. Do you work tomorrow?”
“Sadly, yes. Do you want to go into the city for the day? I think Neil is going to be at the track, so it’ll be boring around here.”
“Right, because Neil and I hang out together when you’re not here,” she said. It’s so weird to hear your own voice coming out of your mother’s mouth. She shook her head. “No, I’ve got stuff I want to do. You’ve got Netflix, for god’s sake. What more could I need?”
“You laugh, but Netflix is a gift from the gods.” I finally gave up and headed for the door. “Maybe you should spend tomorrow Googling for a hobby.”
“Good idea.” She pretended to consider. “Maybe I’ll take up knitting.”
I snorted. My mom is so not crafty. “Well, as long as you give up cleaning before the cleaning lady gets here, I’ll be happy.”
He’d repurposed some of the candles from the living room to light our bedroom. When I entered, he emerged from the closet shirtless and barefoot, a pair of padded wrist cuffs in his hands. A spreader bar already lay across the bed, cushioned in the duvet like a ring in a jewelry box.
Neil didn’t look at me as he crossed to toss the shackles on the bed. “Go and get your collar, Sophie.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said automatically, and a little thrill shot through me, like it did every time. I dropped my earrings on a table in the dressing room as I headed to the safe, where I punched in the totally immature four-digit code Neil used for everything and removed the velvet drawstring bag inside. My fingers parted the opening reverently and brushed over the cool metal. Bringing Sir my collar set off a dark pulse in my chest. My breathing slowed and deepened as I slipped the collar free. I didn’t put it on; he liked to do that himself.
His back was turned when I came back, but that didn’t take away the languid sway of my hips, or the decadent slowness with which I sank to my knees. I rested the collar on my upraised palms and kept my gaze on the floor. I didn’t make a sound to alert him. He knew I was there.
It took him a long time to acknowledge me. Waiting was its own kind of torture; I heard the soft clink of the cuffs and wondered if he’d fastened them to the discreet under-mattress loops, or just intended to leave my bound arms loose. I hadn’t seen a paddle, or the wand vibe that he loved to torture me with. The absence of these things heightened my anticipation.
“You’re breathing rather hard, Sophie.”
My arms ached from holding my pose. “Yes, Sir.”
“You’re wondering what we’re going to do tonight?” The brush of his feet on the carpet stopped. “Would you like to know, tonight?”
I hardly ever wanted to know. A slow grin crossed my face. “Surprise me, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
I raised my eyes to his. I couldn’t disguise my giddy excitement. He seemed to be struggling to maintain his firm, intimidating demeanor, as well. He took my collar from my hands. “Stand up.”
I rose and shivered as he fit the metal band around my neck. The clasp closed, and my indrawn breath pulled a tight line from my groin to my chest. He trailed one finger along the line of the collar then down to my shoulder to brush back my hair. “You have the most beautiful smile. Let me have a taste.”
I knew the lip gloss would work.
He tilted my face up with two fingers and slowly lowered his mouth to mine. The wet slide of his tongue sent hot pulses to flood my pussy and engorge my clit. My chest rose; I wanted to put my arms around him, but he hadn’t invited me.
