“Did you get a cramp?” She scanned him, but couldn’t see an obvious issue other than his flagging erection. “Where are you hurting?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “No, I—”
Her cell rang, cutting him off, but she ignored it. “What can I do to help?”
“Please, answer your phone.” When she didn’t move, he shooed her away. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
Preoccupied with his mostly naked, possibly hurting state, she didn’t check the screen display before answering her cell. It was a mistake.
“Hi, sweetheart! So glad I caught you at home tonight.”
Her mother’s voice rang through the connection, bright and cheery. Too bright and cheery, which meant Mom was anxious. Probably because her daughter hadn’t been answering her calls regularly.
“Hi, Mom.” Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. “Yes. For once, we decided to stay in and relax, instead of going out.”
Marcus was shooting her a quizzical look as he tugged his boxer-briefs back around his hips, no doubt wondering why she was lying to her mother. She and Marcus hadn’t spent an evening out since Alex’s visit, partly to avoid paparazzi and partly because they both seemed to be natural homebodies.
Apparently he hadn’t noticed her rejecting JoAnn’s calls.
“You’re—” Her mom cleared her throat. “You’re still seeing your young man?”
April bit back her instinctive, petty response. Do you need a fainting couch or smelling salts? I know you must be shocked.
“Yes.” It was polite, and the best she could manage.
Her mother didn’t ask for more details, thankfully. “In that case, I’m issuing an invitation for two. Your father and I would love to have you both here for my birthday lunch, if you can make it. The first Saturday in July, just the four of us.”
The air in the apartment had turned damp and chilly against her exposed legs. April wrapped her free arm around herself, curling inward as she dropped her chin to her chest.
There was no good way to refuse. If April said the exact date didn’t work, another would be proposed, then another, until it became clear the date wasn’t the real problem, and she’d have to address issues she wasn’t ready to raise yet. Make declarations she’d wanted to consider further before meeting her parents again.
When April was a child, her mother had worked so hard to make birthdays special. She’d arranged dizzying spreads of gifts. Parties that included everyone in April’s class. Streamers and balloons and, one year, a petting zoo in their backyard.
Even cake, whatever type April requested.
“One cheat day per year, sweetheart,” JoAnn always said. “Make the most of it.”
April should be willing to attend her mother’s celebration, despite everything. In recognition of all those other birthday parties, if nothing else, because Mom really did care. Mom really did work hard and want what was best for her daughter and hope for her daughter’s happiness with each phone call, each visit, each reminder of what health and beauty and love required.
Marcus’s arms wrapped around her from behind, warm and hard and supportive, and she swallowed past the obstruction in her throat.
“Hold on just one second, Mom.” Muting the phone, she stared blankly into the kitchen and asked him. “My mom wants to know if you can come to her birthday lunch the first Saturday in July. They live in Sacramento, so it’ll be a half-day trip.”
No hesitation. “Of course. I’ll put it in my calendar later.”
Before he could say more, she unmuted the phone. “We’ll be there. Just email me the details and let me know if we can bring anything.”
“Perfect.” There was an awkward pause, which her mother eventually filled with yet more cheery chatter. “Nothing too exciting is happening here, although your father and I are considering spending a weekend in Napa next month. He got some new clients, and they recommended this vineyard—”
No. No, April was done talking about her father. That much she knew.
“Listen, Mom, I need to get to bed early, so I should let you go.” Marcus’s hands, stroking up and down her chilled arms, paused. “Talk to you soon.”
How her mother managed to fill absolute silence with hurt, April would never understand. Even from two hours away, the guilt of it dragged her head lower.
“All right. Love you, sweetheart,” JoAnn finally said.
After another swallow, April stated the truth. “I love you too.”
She couldn’t disconnect fast enough. When she turned in Marcus’s arms, he was staring down at her, forehead creased, and she didn’t want questions from him. Not now.
Her hands were unsteady, and she fisted them. “I won, right? With the final script?”
He slowly nodded.
“Then get naked,” she told him. “After that, I’m claiming my reward.”
As he removed his boxer-briefs, she stalked toward the bedroom, flipped the light switch, and waited for him to follow. Once he did, she greeted him by stripping off her shirt and tossing it in a corner, then tugging down and kicking away her panties.
He inhaled sharply and bit his lip, but his brow didn’t smooth.
“I don’t want to talk about the call right now,” she told him. “I will later, I promise.”
He nodded again, this time with more certainty. “Okay.”
In mute defiance, she planted her fists on her hips and stood there absolutely naked, the overhead light at full brightness, so he couldn’t possibly fail to see her for who and what she was. Every curve. Every roll. Every freckle. Every stretch mark. Every inch of her bared and his to take or leave.
He took his time studying her, then stepped closer. Closer again, until their legs tangled and the crisp hair on his thighs rasped against her sensitive skin.
The stroke of his knuckles down her neck was careful. Tender. “What do you need, April?”
All this evening, they’d been discussing wants, not needs. But at this moment, for her, maybe the two were the same.
“As my reward, I want you to fuck me with all the lights in this room blazing.” She tipped her chin higher, refusing to break eye contact. “I want you to look at me the whole time. Can you do that?”
Against her belly, his renewed desire began to make itself known, and the hardening of his cock felt like triumph. Absolute victory, over a foe she’d been battling and battling for decades now.
He laughed, even as his hands rose to cup her breasts. “Of course I can do that. I’ve done it before, and it would literally be my pleasure to do it again.” Then he hesitated. “Only . . .”
Victory slipped from her grasp, and she had to stiffen her legs to keep upright.
“Yes?” she managed to say, her sinuses burning with tears she would not, would not shed in front of him.
His hands left her breasts, and she bit back her sob.
Then he was cradling her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks in gentle arcs as he pressed his lips to her forehead, her temple, her nose. Her damned traitorous mouth, which was trembling.
Neck bowed, forehead to forehead, he made his own request. “After I fuck you, can we make love? With the lights still on?”
When she surged up on her toes to kiss him, he took that—correctly—as a yes.