Need sways my body, his hands sliding down my hips as heat bleeds into every inch of me. Until a text interrupts. We pause before both sets of eyes reluctantly slide to the sink’s edge to see who is the jerk.
I whisper, “I don’t want to know, but tell me anyway. What does it say?”
Max leans to read it. “Big shock — it’s from Peter. It says: Abby! I need you! WTF?!!” My husband sighs, “I know how you feel, Pete.”
I grab his hand, pull him back to me so I can kiss him, murmuring, “You want to know something, Max?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
Big blue eyes soften as they trace every line of my face. “I love you, too, Abs. No tie it is.” He gives me a final kiss, steps over, grabs the phone, hands it to me, “You let your assistant talk to you like that?” and snatches my towel off its hook, tossing it to me on his way out.
I catch it, calling out a distracted, “I like a friend-vibe to my leadership!” before glancing between phone and towel, wondering which gets my attention first.
Phone wins.
Chapter 2
MAX
I shouldn’t be doing this.
It’s so, so wrong.
I know it.
All of society knows it.
The woman in my arms knows it.
And this isn’t the first time we’ve ducked out of a party when she wasn’t looking.
I fucking can’t help myself.
I love her taste.
Her willingness.
The way she passed me while I was talking to my father, and took the note I slid into her hand saying to meet me in the hallway in five minutes…
I’d written it early.
When I was frustrated.
Then with the party going so well, I almost didn’t give it to her but the sneaky looks she gave me drove me to distraction.
She could’ve said no.
It’s my anniversary party.
Ten years.
But fuck!
I’m a man, dammit.
I have needs.
And secrets turn me on.
If we get caught…
Can’t think about that now.
In the shadowy hallway I’ve got her caged against the wall right by the front door my wife and I walk through every single day.
Hoping she doesn’t find us.
The guests have all arrived.
Closest friends.
Some family.
No one is leaving anytime soon.
This is a safe hiding place.
For the moment.
And lust wouldn’t wait.
I’m working hot kisses up her neck now, her parted lips still wet from my kiss as she tries to pretend she’s not petrified.
But that’s what makes it fun.
Panting breaths.
Smashed bodies.
Me hard as a rock.
I claim her mouth again and she’s into it, until suddenly she breaks free and whispers, “Max, stop. We can't. She'll find us.”
This is so, so wrong.
I rasp, “No, she won’t,” kissing her to shut her and her fears up.
We could have sex out here.
If we were quick.
Then we’d go back into the party knowing what we’d done.
She halfheartedly pushes me away, increasing my efforts to convince her, “Oh God,” I pull up the hem just as we hear my name being called from deep inside the party.
A distant and confused, “Max?” from her.
“We can’t! Stop, Max, she’ll find us.”
The summons comes again. “Max? Where are you?” only it’s closer now.
Shit!
Shit!
Shit!
How can we get out of here quickly.
But I don’t wanna leave her.
And life is short.
Isn’t that what they say?
“So what if she finds us?”
Surprised, hoping I’m not toying with her heart, she whispers, “You don't mean that!”
I murmur against her lips, “What if I do?” and claim her mouth as mine.
For now.
For tonight.
And if we’re brave enough, maybe forever.
Louder now, “Max? Where are you?”
We stop kissing.
I don’t budge.
No more hiding.
With her pressed against the wall, caged in my arms, I touch my forehead to hers.
The door swings open, and there she is.
My mother. “Oh!!” Her voice softens on an embarrassed laugh as she exclaims, “You two! Ten years and you still don’t let up?” Abby and I crack up. Mom sighs, “C’mon, your guests are wondering where you are!”
Chapter 3
Abby
I can’t stop laughing.
Max kisses my forehead, and follows Alice back to our party.
My body is warm.
Lips tingling.
Grin, stuck.
Built in 1928, our apartment building is three stories tall, its private deck a rarity in Manhattan, and tucked between skyscrapers in a way that makes it feel protected. But they block the stars so Max installed twinkle lights in their place to flatter everyone.
Arthur!
Oh no.
He’s singing and playing guitar for us as a friend, not for a fee, and we disappeared!
So rude.
How embarrassing.
I walk up and sigh, “Arthur, I missed your last two songs!”
My best friend Jennifer is sitting on her husband’s lap as she and Tom enjoy the music, everyone else around the deck grouped in various conversations.
Arthur sizes me up, gifted fingers coming to rest on his guitar, the last note hovering in the warm, summer night air. “You snooze you lose. I uh...played your favorite.”
I straighten up. “No you didn't. Luna's Crush is my favorite, and you know it!”
His eyes sparkle with triumph. “So you did hear me!”
I’m caught.
I know it.
What a terrible host I am.
Jennifer and Tom are laughing at me.
Still, I hate the bait and switch. “In the background, but I prefer to be right here where I can just gaze at you…” I lean forward, hands under my chin like a fangirl, “…and just be like, in awe.”
Jennifer laughs, and Arthur gives me an okay-I-forgive-you grin.
But it vanishes at my sister’s, voice. “Don't layer it on so thick, Abs.”
Lorna said that pretty loudly.
Too loud.
I flip around, and see her on the bench that runs the length of our red brick wall, alone, talking to no one, glowering in a bun so tight it might be cutting off circulation.
Lorna never got over what happened to us, but don’t dare tell her that. She’s an artist whose work actually sells because all of her anger is on canvas. People will shell out big bucks for pain.
No matter how prolific she is, it doesn’t make her any happier, catharsis impotent.
I ask, “What are you doing over here all by yourself?” trying not to be disappointed.
How many times have I told her to go to therapy?
I went!
I had to.
After what we saw, and lost.
Max suddenly appears behind me, wrapping protective arms around my middle, having heard her and knowing I need backup.
Hell, everyone heard her.
My sister’s lip curls, “Married a decade. Who does that?”