But it was also a frivolous present to celebrate my success.
I stripped off my clothes and pulled the delicate fabric up over my curves, hooking the clasp in the back closed, then stood in front of the mirror to evaluate. My long, straight hair was a light auburn. The hue was so warm, I could pass as a redhead some days. I had blue eyes and fair skin, and last week at a launch party, a guy told me I reminded him of Amy Adams. He was drunk and maybe nearsighted, but I took the compliment anyway.
For the first time in forever, a pleased thrill shot down through me as I stared at my reflection. The crimson band belted across my natural waist was tight, but not unflattering. My arms had tone to them, and my thighs were proportional to the rest of me. I looked . . .
Hot.
Unexpected tears pricked my eyes, and I rapidly blinked them back, while sucking in a deep breath. I wasn’t about to start crying over my excitement at how I looked. I mean, how fucking narcissistic would that be? And it wasn’t even excitement, it was more like relief.
I set a hand on my hip and shifted on my black heels, tilting my head. For being so expensive, the lingerie wasn’t exactly comfortable. The seams were kind of itchy. I slipped a hand into one of the cups and lifted my breast up, trying to fill the fabric better. The worst part about the weight loss was I’d lost a full cup-size in my bra. I’d never had big breasts, but now they were tiny.
Maybe I’d give myself another birthday present and get my boobs done. I’d been thinking about it a lot recently. Between my job at Warbler Talent and Clark’s at HBHC, we could easily afford what we wanted. It also helped that we were debt-free.
I raked my hand through my hair, shaking a tangle loose, and pressed my lips together. The red bodysuit concealed my nipples and the cleft between my legs, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination. God, it made me feel sexy. I wanted to be a smoldering temptress Clark couldn’t refuse.
The makeup I’d worn to dinner was too subtle for what I had in mind now. As I leaned over the sink to get closer to the mirror, applying the darkest eyeshadow I had in my palette, I plotted my idea. I still had Clark’s passcode to get into the building from last week, when I’d run dinner over to him.
It was ridiculous to wear my trench coat in August, but the lingerie was empowering, and the coat was part of the fantasy. I’d strut into Clark’s office, drop it from my shoulders, and then have my way with him right there. It’d be almost midnight by the time I got into the building, and it was likely to be just him and Derrick still working on the problem. They were usually the last to leave after a crisis.
Plus, it was my birthday.
Clark was close friends with Derrick, and he probably wouldn’t blink an eye when I showed up and asked to borrow my husband for a few minutes. Really, it was the least the company could do. Clark basically gave them all his nights and weekends. They could give me twenty minutes.
My bare thighs squeezed together beneath my coat as I drove to the HBHC office and parked in the parking garage beside the building. My sex-starved body tingled with excitement. It quickened my steps on my heels as I darted to the elevator and hurried to press the button.
Like me, Clark had been transforming over the last year. He’d always been attractive, but when I made my commitment to the gym, he matched it. He’d lost inches in his waist and gained them in his chest, filling out the sleeves of his dress shirts. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about how he looked.
Maybe just how sore and tired he always was.
I had not missed the way a woman gazed at him tonight when we’d first come into the restaurant for dinner. She’d glanced up with a lifted eyebrow and parted lips, like he’d taken her breath. Six months ago, it might have filled me with pride that my husband caused strangers to lust after him. I would have grinned to myself that I was the one he chose to be with.
But . . . it didn’t feel true anymore. Clark and I shared a bed most nights, but he hadn’t shared himself with me in ages.
I rode the stifling, dingy elevator car down to the ground floor and was determined to change that. He wouldn’t refuse me tonight, and once we reconnected, I’d get us back on course.
It was a short stroll down the sidewalk to the lobby doors, and once I was in the dark atrium, I went to the elevator bank and typed in Clark’s code. The dull chime rang out, and the doors slid back to reveal a brightly lit and, thankfully, empty elevator car.
His office was near the top of the building, and the floor was shrouded in shadows. Out the windows, the city winked back at me. Most of the surrounding buildings were dark on the inside, but their roofs were lit, sketching the Nashville skyline.
I stood in the receptionist area and tweaked my head, listening for signs of life, but the floor was utterly silent. If the rest of Clark’s team were still here, they must all be gathered in the server room several floors down.
My coat swished softly as my anxious hands tightened the sash at my waist. I was technically more covered than I’d been at dinner, but I felt naked anyway. The seams of my lingerie brushed and shifted against my skin, sensitizing me. I swallowed thickly as I approached Clark’s closed office door, fighting back the urge to hurry. No one was around or going to catch me as I—
“Oh, fuck,” a deep male voice groaned softly from behind the door.
I paused, my hand on the doorknob. Maybe if I hadn’t been caught off guard, I might have been able to identify the speaker. Or, perhaps if I’d heard the sound of pleasure in my husband’s voice sometime within the last four months, I would have known it was his.
But it was unrecognizable tonight.
Quiet gasps and sighs seeped from beneath the door, coupled with steady, rhythmic thumping, and it made my heart race inside my chest. My breathing went so shallow, thoughts stopped processing in my brain.
On some level, I knew what I was going to find, and although I didn’t want to see it, my hand moved anyway. It turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, forcing me to look inside the office. My muscles tensed so fiercely; I couldn’t move.
Clark’s pants and boxers were pooled around his ankles, exposing his toned legs, and his shirt was hitched up out of the way. I stared at him in confusion, unable to understand the pair of hands latched onto his hips.
For a long moment, I struggled to interpret anything, but mostly, why my husband was bent over his desk, and why his boss Derrick was behind him, his pants also puddled at his feet.
Erika
- Ten Months Later -
Sweat trickled down my back, making my sleeveless silk blouse stick to my skin. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. The air conditioning at the office had never been great, and it had barely been working this morning, but now? It wasn’t at all.
The once historic house had been converted into a commercial office back in the eighties, and the June heatwave gripping the city right now was too much for its ancient air system. The antique blue building was full of southern charm and had a great location beside Music Row, but the house came with drawbacks. The last hour at my desk, after I’d come back from lunch, had been unbearable.
If it were this hot on the main floor, I could only imagine how bad it was upstairs in the recording studio. I couldn’t get any work done today. I was too busy melting. I picked up my phone and thumbed out a text to the owner of the agency.