Chapter 14

chapter 14

MAYA

I’m a lucky woman.

I was born to solidly middle-class parents who provided for all my needs while also making sure our home was a place where I felt safe and loved for exactly who I am, no modifications required.

And yes, we’re kind of a sickly, allergic clan, and I found myself in the back of an ambulance, clinging to my dad’s or sister’s hands while they fought to breathe after being accidentally exposed to one of their food triggers far too many times for comfort. And yes, my sister’s crappy boyfriends and crappier husband made me afraid for her—and wary of men—but on the whole, I’ve led a blessed life.

I have wonderful friends, hobbies that bring me joy, work I find both challenging and exciting, and dreams I feel confident I can make come true.

Well, except one…

After years of being friend-zoned and dismissed as a person worthy of romantic interest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the husband and family I once saw as part of my future. But I’d started to accept that maybe not all dreams come true, and that maybe that was okay.

After all, even without romantic love in my life, I have never wanted for affection, care, or support.

But on Tuesday morning, as I wake to Anthony's lips on my neck and his hands sliding over my body with reverent care, I feel like everything I’ve wanted is within reach. I’ve been given an embarrassment of riches in this incredible man who, in just a few days, has made up for every lonely night I spent at home, wondering if I’d ever be the girl asked to go to the dance.

Every one of those hard nights was worth it because they all led me here to him.

“Again?” I tease, even as I arch into his touch.

We made love most of the day yesterday, hunkering down in the apartment as a storm dumped another six inches on an already snow-covered Manhattan. We ate leftovers, played Scrabble, read books curled up together in bed, and took a nap with Pudge in the afternoon, before kicking him out to protect the innocence of his eyes as we made love before heading down to order smoky BBQ from one of Anthony’s favorite restaurants.

I’m so sore, my intimate places feel bruised, but that doesn’t stop me from lifting my arms, making it easier for Anthony to strip my nightgown over my head.

“If you’re sick of me, tell me to stop,” he murmurs against my neck as his hand brings my body to life. “I can control myself, I promise.”

“Please don’t,” I say, sucking in a turned-on breath as he guides my leg up and over his and enters me from behind.

He goes slow, giving me time to adjust, and just a few minutes later, I’m coming for him again, basking in the thrill of all the sweet and filthy things he groans into my ear as he joins me.

Things about how good my tight little pussy feels.

How beautiful I am…

How sexy…

How perfect…

And I feel perfect with him, so perfect I never want this week to end.

And maybe it doesn’t have to. We haven’t spoken about the elephant in the room since Sunday, when we both admitted this doesn’t feel like pretend, but I feel confident that we will. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it and hopefully find a way forward that feels as idyllic as these first few days.

Afterwards, I snuggle against him, admiring the way the early morning light sparkles off fresh snow outside, so grateful to be warm and safe beneath the cozy down comforter with the man of my dreams.

“We should get up,” he says, but makes no move to throw off the covers. “I’m sure Pudge is ready for breakfast.”

I trace patterns on his chest. Even the crisp hair on his chest is perfect—not too much, not too little. “Pudge is always ready for breakfast. He’ll be okay. Just five more minutes… Or ten. We won’t be able to be lazy in bed tomorrow. I have to be up and out early for the inspection meeting at the apartment.”

He tenses for a beat before his arms tighten around me. "That’s right. I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe I can come with you, after all.”

I lift my head, studying him in the soft morning light. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. You said you had a meeting with your financial advisor that couldn’t be rescheduled, right?”

The idea that Anthony has a financial advisor as an escort is kind of wild. But it’s also kind of adorable. He’s clearly doing very well for himself in this alternative line of work.

Probably too well to want to give it up to play house with a small-town girl fresh from the sticks, my inner voice frets, but I ignore it the best I can.

Yes, Anthony and I are going to have to discuss his job eventually—and I’ll have to be honest with him that him sleeping with other women, even if it’s just business, is a dealbreaker for me—but I’m still in “present moment” mode. I refuse to do anything to ruin a moment of our time together.

The hard stuff can wait for a few more days.

“I do, but this feels more important,” he says. “I don’t want you going down there alone. Even to the safer subway station. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. I’ll call my advisor later and see what I can figure out.”

The words make my heart skip—he cares about me, he really does—but before I can get too sappy about how amazing it feels to have my man getting protective about my safety like something out of a Jane Austen novel, a loud meow sounds from downstairs.

Anthony arches a brow. “I told you. He’s probably wasted away to nothing by now.”

I answer him with a wry arch of my own. “Right. Because Pudge is clearly on the verge of starvation, not at a weight that gets me a lecture from the vet about putting him on a diet every time I take him in.”

“Pudge isn’t fat. He’s just big boned,” Anthony says. “And you feed him healthy food in reasonable portions. It isn’t your fault he seems to have a gift for finding unattended goodies.”

“Oh no, that reminds me… I forgot to install the lock on the trash.” Cursing softly, I throw off the covers as I reach for my nightgown, pulling it on before grabbing the pair of sweatpants I was wearing to stay warm during dinner last night and my cashmere cardigan. I’m starting to look as cozy—and chaotic—as I do at home, but Anthony doesn’t seem to care.

He couldn’t keep his hands off of me last night, which is probably one of the reasons that putting the childproof—and Pudge proof—lock on the trash slipped my mind.

Sure enough, when we get downstairs, signs of Pudge’s late night forage litter the floor in front of the refrigerator, even as the greedy beast in question moans in front of his empty food dish like he’s been on a hunger strike for days.

“You are so naughty,” I say, wagging a finger his way as I grab a fresh trash bag from under the sink and start to gather the mess. Thankfully, there wasn’t much in there aside from mostly empty takeout containers that Pudge has licked clean, but I still feel terrible for messing Anthony’s tidy home. “I’ll get the mop in a second,” I assure him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “The floor looks fine and the cleaning service is coming in a few days.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense,” I say, adding another luxury item to Anthony’s list of expensive habits. But I don’t mind cleaning my house or…our house, should it come to that. I truly believe we could make things work financially should Anthony decide a future together is worth giving up his spendy lifestyle.

He’s so smart and charming. I’m sure he could find a wonderful job with chances for advancement that wouldn’t depend on him staying in supermodel shape or getting naked with strangers. Besides, he’s getting older. I don’t mind the age gap between us at all, but surely at forty, he’s starting to think about quitting the biz eventually…

I’m about to throw caution to the wind and ask him if he’s thought about when he might switch career tracks, when he distracts me with a steamy kiss by the sink before reaching past me to grab the kettle on the stove for coffee.

“And I have more enjoyable things in mind than mopping,” he says. “The storm is through and it’s going to be warmer today. What do you think about taking Pudge on a Manhattan adventure?”

I hum beneath my breath, staying close as he fills the kettle. “I’m intrigued. What kind of adventure are you thinking?”

“Ice skating in Central Park?” he asks.

I grin. “Do they have skates in his size?”

“Ha ha,” he says, giving my ass a gentle slap before stepping around me to put the kettle on to boil. “We’ll take him in your carrier, woman. I can wear it if you’re worried about falling on the ice. Not to brag, but I’m a beast on the rink. I used to play in an intramural hockey team before business got too crazy a few years ago.”

Refusing to think about what “crazy” business means for an escort or how many women Anthony has probably slept with, I shoot back, “I’m not too shabby myself. Never played hockey, but I grew up two blocks from the rink our town puts up in the park every winter. I can do a double spin. Never got the triple, but I haven’t fallen in a really long time, so…”

“Hot,” he says, grinning down at me as he wraps an arm around my waist.

I laugh, leaning into him. “Thanks. But I’ll still let you carry Pudge if you don’t mind. He might be a little much for me to manage on skates.” I glance down, to where Pudge is rubbing against Anthony’s leg with a passion he usually displays only with me. “And he obviously has a thing for you.” I shake my head with a faux disgusted sound. “Get a grip, buddy. Haven’t you ever heard of playing hard to get?”

“Don’t listen to her, Pudge,” he says, gathering my ginger love into his arms, where he immediately begins to purr. “You don’t have to play hard to get with me. The feeling is totally mutual and we’re going to tear it up on the ice.”

And that’s how we end up on the subway uptown an hour later, with Pudge in his carrier—a clear bubble backpack that lets him see everything around him while staying safe and cozy—and Anthony and I bundled in sweaters and scarves.

The walk through Central Park to the rink is pure enchantment, with fresh snow peacefully resting beside the recently cleared paths and holiday music drifting from vendors selling toasted nuts and mugs of cocoa.

Christmas may be over, but it doesn’t seem like anyone in New York is ready to let the holiday season go just yet. The rink is still bedecked in lights with a massive tree in the center that Pudge studies with extreme interest as we stop to take a quick selfie halfway through our skating session.

“He looks like he wants to be up that tree wrestling with the Nutcracker ornaments,” I say, laughing as Pudge meows in agreement.

Anthony glances over his shoulder toward the pack. “Oh yeah? Are you a Christmas tree terror, Pudge?”

“The worst. I had to switch to felt ornaments to protect the ornaments and his paws,” I say, as we skate off to join the rest of the people circling the ice on this peaceful morning. Thanks to our relatively early rise, we’re here before the tourists have descended and the city feels like it belongs to the locals again. But by the time we finish at eleven, the hordes are assembling at the skate rental.

“Hungry?” Anthony asks as we change back into our shoes, Pudge prowling the area around us on his leash, enjoying a break from the carrier. “We could grab lunch up here before we head back to our neck of the woods.”

“Starving,” I say. “But we’d have to find a pet-friendly place. I don’t think Pudge will be up for much more carrier time without an extended break to stretch his legs. Preferably somewhere warm and dry.”

Pudge meows as he shakes a paw made damp from melting ice rink shavings and shoots a slightly traumatized look my way.

I gather him into my arms, assuring him, “I know, wet paws are the worst. Sorry, buddy.”

“What about this?” Anthony asks, extending his phone my way.

I glance down to see shots of a cute café with exposed brick, fairy lights, and cat trees and climbing walls integrated into the decor. And they serve brunch!

“Perfect,” I breathe. “If it isn’t too far.”

“Twenty short blocks once we’re out of the park, but we could take a scooter.” His grin turns mischievous. “The electric ones go pretty fast.”

I exhale a nervous laugh. “But not too fast. I’m a chicken.”

“You are not. You’re one of the bravest people I know,” he says, leaning over to give me a quick kiss that makes me feel warm all over. “But we can take it slow until you feel safe.”

“All right,” I say, trusting him the way I have from the beginning.

He’s just so easy to trust, this man whose hand feels so familiar in mine as we wander toward Central Park West.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pressed against Anthony’s back as we zip north into the Bronx in the bike lane, Pudge once again in his backpack between us. The cold air stings my cheeks but I’m not nearly as scared as I thought I’d be.

In fact, I can’t stop smiling.

“Hold on, turning left at the next intersection,” Anthony calls over his shoulder as he takes advantage of a green light to turn onto a quieter street.

I hug him tight, breathing in his cologne mixed with winter air, once again keenly aware of how lucky I am to be here. To be alive and healthy and sharing another amazing day with a man who makes every wonderful thing even more wonderful because I get to share it with him.

When we finally reach our destination, the Cool Kitty Cat Café lives up to the photos, and then some.

Holiday lights twinkle along exposed brick walls, evergreen boughs adorn the mantle above a crackling fireplace in the main room, and the scent of coffee mingles with fresh-baked pastries and panini sandwiches. Cat trees and climbing shelves create a feline superhighway around the perimeter, where resident cats lounge like furry emperors, reminding me of Elaina’s motley crew at Sweet Pussy back home.

After we order paninis and a homemade cat treat cookie for Pudge and make our way to our table with a number to await the food, I tell Anthony about Elaina’s cat café where I first met Pudge, and the stir it made around our small town when it opened. “The name drove the fussy old ladies crazy. You would have thought she was shooting kittens in the street, not saving them from kill shelters.”

“No offense, but small towns sound awful,” Anthony says, setting Pudge down and opening the exit hatch on the carrier. “Everything I hear about them makes me glad I was born a big city boy.”

Pudge meows his apparent agreement as he emerges with a full-body shake and a luxurious stretch.

“Oh, hush,” I tell him. “You loved living at Elaina’s. But I’m glad you’re liking the city, too.”

“Me, too,” Anthony says, sending that warm rush of feeling through my chest again.

After a thorough inspection of his surroundings, my normally shy buddy makes his way to a window perch, where another chunky orange tabby that could be his twin greets him with a welcoming head bump. I decide to take it as a good omen that our move to the city truly is meant to be.

“Two mozzarella, tomato, and basil paninis?” The barista who took our order appears beside us, accompanied by a tiny black kitten who seems determined to climb her pant leg.

“Thanks,” Anthony says, taking the plates off her hands.

“Thanks, and sorry about Salem,” she says, detaching the kitten with a playful roll of her eyes. “He’s our newest rescue. He thinks everyone is his best friend and people are for climbing.”

“He’s adorable.” I reach out to scratch his ears, and he immediately leaps into my lap. I catch him with a laugh as Anthony shifts my plate out of kitten reach.

“Now you’ve done it.” The barista grins as she backs away. “He’s yours for at least an hour.”

“What an honor,” I coo as I shift in my seat, making sure the kitten is far enough away from the table to stay out of trouble. “You’re such a cutie patootie, Salem. Yes, you are.”

“Uh oh.” Anthony watches me cuddle the purring kitten as he reaches for his sandwich. “You think Pudge is ready for a little brother?”

I hum beneath my breath, stroking the now purring kitten. “I don’t know. Maybe, but I can’t even think about it until we’re settled in the city, and there’s a lot to do before then. I have to find a place in my budget and pack everything in Sea Breeze and hire movers and sell my car so I don’t have to worry about parking a vehicle.” I sigh. “And I have to find a way to tell my parents I’m moving to New York without scaring them half to death. They worry about me living alone already and I’ve never lived more than six blocks from where I grew up.”

“That’s hard,” he says, his tone softening. “You guys are close?”

“Yeah. Really close.” I keep my focus on Salem’s little head, as I add, “A part of me is scared to leave them, too, but… I’m almost as scared to stay. If that makes sense.”

“It makes complete sense,” he says without missing a beat. “At least to me. It’s hard to grow or change or become the person you want to be when the people around you are invested in you staying the same.”

I look up, nodding in relief. But I’m not really surprised that he gets it. Gets me . “Yeah, I want to be more than the person I am there. I want to grow and try new things, but I don’t know if I can do that in Sea Breeze. Everyone there has their mind made up about who I am, no matter how hard I try to show that I’m becoming someone different. I just want to be seen for who I am now , not the anxious, shy little girl I used to be.”

“You don’t seem anxious or shy to me at all,” Anthony says. “Like I said before, I think you’re very brave. I’d like to be half as brave one day.”

I cock my head, my brows drawing together as I shift my attention fully his way. “What do you mean? You lead this wild, adventurous life totally on your own terms, without caring what polite society might have to say about what you do for a living. If that’s not brave, I don’t know what is.”

He frowns and sets his sandwich down with a sigh. But before he can speak whatever’s on his mind, Pudge suddenly leaps into my lap, sending Salem skidding off onto the floor.

The kitten lands on his feet—he’s a cat, after all—but still…

“Pudge, bad boy,” I say, chiding the giant beast now stretching across my thighs, being sure to take up every inch of available space. “Salem was just being friendly.”

“Clearly not ready for a baby brother,” Anthony says, humor in his tone again.

When I look up, he seems his usual smiling, sexy self, but I can’t help but wonder what that moment was about, and if maybe he isn’t as satisfied with his job as he’s seemed so far. Selfishly, I can’t help hoping that he’s at least a little unhappy, and that the combination of job dissatisfaction and the bliss we’ve found together will make it easy for him to walk away.

“Clearly,” I murmur, but for better or worse, I’m still thinking about the future.

And Anthony.

And how much I want to come home to him at the end of every day.

We take a cab back to his place and by the time we reach his neighborhood, Anthony has called my inspection company and learned Kyle is the man I’ll be meeting in the morning, and that he has close to five years’ experience in commercial real estate. I’m touched that he wanted to get the name and background of the man I’m meeting. I’m even more touched when he reschedules his meeting with his advisor and makes plans to come with me for the inspection.

As we head to bed, I’m pretty sure life can’t get any better, in fact.

Unless…

“Can we learn about blow jobs now?” I ask as I close the door behind us, letting my robe slip low enough on my shoulders to bare a scandalous amount of cleavage. “Or are you too tired for a lesson? I know we’ve had a big day, but…I’m dying to do bad things to you with my mouth.”

His eyes burning into mine, Anthony watches me pad slowly across the carpet, looking like he wants to devour me whole.

But this time, I’ll be the one doing the devouring…

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