Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Emery
“ W ho’s babysitting Darcy tonight?” Cheryl asks, handing me a wineglass.
“She’s at Demi and Charlie’s house for a sleepover,” I reply, admiring Keven and Cheryl’s gorgeous living space. Alex Kennedy’s signature style is evident in the décor, and several of Cheryl’s photographs are framed and adorning the walls. Late-evening sunshine floods the roomy space with glorious light, warming my bones.
“Darcy has the biggest crush on Charlie Junior,” Zayn says, nodding his thanks at Keven when he hands him a beer. “I can’t decide if it’s cute or repugnant.”
“They’re only kids. It’s harmless,” I say.
“They don’t stay kids for too long, and Barron’s youngest is what, thirteen now?” Keven says.
“Twelve,” I confirm because Zayn has no clue about any of the kids’ ages, our daughter being the only exception.
“Ouch,” Cheryl says. “That’s an awkward age, but don’t mind those two. I’m sure it’s innocent and there’s nothing repugnant about it.” She loops her arm through mine as we follow the boys outside, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially, “What is it about fathers and their daughters? Keven practically has a mini coronary any time Talisa mentions boys.”
“Something to look forward to,” I deadpan as we make our way along the stone path in the direction of the covered area where Cheryl has the table set. “Darcy has Zayn wrapped around her little finger, but I don’t doubt he’ll be uber protective when she starts dating. God help us all.”
“Trust me, girl. I can relate.”
“The garden looks great,” I note with a hint of pride, scanning the stunning landscaped rear garden I spent six months designing and creating. It remains one of my best projects to date.
“Thanks to you.” Cheryl squeezes my arm. “That local guy you found is working out great. He shows up every week on time, and he’s meticulous about maintaining your creation. I seriously can’t thank you enough.”
“Stop it. You insisted on paying me, and I got a ton of referrals from it. Plus, the opportunity to work on such a prestigious dream project is all the thanks I need.”
“We both know you didn’t charge us nearly half enough,” she says as we approach our destination.
“Like you charged us peanuts for the family portraits you took.”
She laughs. “Guess we’re even.”
“You’ll have to come to ours for dinner next time so you can see them on the walls. I got a gorgeous frame for that one of the three of us laughing, and I had it blown up big. Joaquin and Kai helped Zayn to hang it over the fireplace last week.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” We unlink arms as we reach the table. “It’s a fabulous photo.”
“This looks amazing, Cheryl.” Zayn’s hungry gaze rakes over the table as he claims a seat. My husband isn’t wrong. Cheryl has prepared a mouthwatering feast with a variety of salads, breads, roasted vegetables, and a charcuterie board full of different cheeses, cold cuts, olives, fruit, and crackers.
“I hope you like it. I stuck to a lighter menu given it’s summer and we’re eating outside, but there is dessert for after too.”
“Please say you have some of Faye’s Baileys chocolate cheesecake,” I say, my mouth drooling as I slide into a seat beside Cheryl and across from Zayn.
“Em dreams about that cheesecake,” my husband jokes.
“Of course, I have some for you,” Cheryl confirms over a smile. “I know it’s your favorite. I also got the recipe if you want to try it at home.”
“Gawd, don’t tempt me. I’d be as fat as a fool if I knew how to make it.”
“I’m the same with anything sweet. If it’s in the house, I can’t resist it,” my friend agrees.
“Where are your two tonight?” I ask as we help ourselves to the food.
“Talisa is at the movies with friends, and Taylor’s over at his girlfriend’s place,” Cheryl explains.
I notice Keven’s eye twitch. “You don’t approve?” I ask before popping a chunk of cheese in my mouth.
“There isn’t anything wrong with Marisa, just that Taylor’s priorities aren’t where they should be,” he clarifies.
“He’ll be a senior this year, and he really needs to knuckle down and work hard if he’s to graduate with a decent GPA,” Cheryl says.
“He’s more interested in girls and football than his studies,” Keven adds. “He has an offer to play ball for Boston College, but he’s too laid-back about the academic requirements, and I’m worried he’ll lose the place if he doesn’t get his act together.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Zayn says, lifting his fork to his mouth. “He’ll pull it off.”
“I hope so for his sake. He has his heart set on a football career, and we only want the best for him,” Keven says.
We chat amicably over dinner and dessert, and I’m enjoying myself immensely. When the light fades, Cheryl and I move to the lit seated patio area with a fresh bottle of white wine and our glasses while our men clean up. “How is business?” she asks when we’re settled side by side on one of the couches.
“Thriving. I’m having to turn away so much work.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Time to hire another apprentice?”
“Possibly. My new assistant is taking care of the paperwork and organizing my office and the accounts, which is a godsend, but I definitely need more help executing the projects. The small team I have working with me is great, but I really need someone with more experience.”
“It’s a great problem to have,” she says, clinking her glass against mine.
“It is, and I’ll figure it out. How are things at the studio?”
“Hectic, but you know me.” She shrugs, tossing golden, wavy hair over her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Cheryl took me under her wing when our husbands became business partners years ago. She’s like the older sister I never had, and while I adore my sisters-in-law and our extended friends’ group, I’ve really come to cherish the relationship I have with this woman. The advice she gave me when I was setting up my business was on point, and she’s the first person I go to when I have a question.
The rest of the evening passes in a whirlwind of wine and good conversation, and I’m sad when the car arrives to take us home. “Thanks so much for a lovely evening,” I say, hugging Keven and then Cheryl. “I’ll contact you during the week to arrange dinner at ours next month.”
“Have a great vacation, man.” Zayn slaps Keven on the back. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“I’m always available for emergencies,” Keven reminds him.
“You should switch your cell off and totally destress,” I suggest, already knowing he won’t heed my advice. Zayn is the same whenever we travel, and I’m pretty sure Sawyer and Xavier don’t know the meaning of the word relaxation.
The guys all work way too hard, and it’s not like any of us need the money. I really wish Zayn would cut his hours. He’s been out of sorts lately, and I’m guessing it’s work related, but every time I ask, he says it’s nothing.
Our friends wave us off at their door as our driver drives along the winding driveway and out through the gate. It’s a thirty-minute journey, and I have plenty of ideas on how to occupy the time. The instant the privacy screen goes up, I unbuckle my belt and crawl onto my husband’s lap.
“Hey there,” I purr in my sexiest voice, circling my arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him.
“What’re you doing?” he asks in between heated kisses.
“What does it look like?”
Amusement dances across his lips as he drags his gaze over me. “Like someone might’ve had too much wine to drink.”
“Are you complaining?” Rotating my hips, I grind down on the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Because it doesn’t feel like you are.”
“Never, beautiful.” My inner sex goddess whoops when his hands wander under my skirt and up the back of my thighs.
“I want you,” I proclaim in a breathy tone as his fingers gradually creep higher.
“Here?” His brows lift in surprise.
I’m not normally this spontaneous, happy to let my man control things in the bedroom, but I’m feeling tipsy and more than a little frisky, and I don’t want to wait until we get home. Lifting my chin, I fix him with what I hope is a sultry look. “Yes, here. Got a problem with that, Anderson?”
Zayn chuckles. “I love the fuck out of you, Em. You have no idea how badly I need this.”
My brow puckers, but before I can question him on the unspoken part of that statement, he swoops in, claiming my lips in a breath-stealing kiss that has me melting in his lap. He thrusts up as I gyrate on top of him, and I’m so wet I’m probably leaving a mess on his pants. A strangled cry escapes my mouth when he moves my panties to one side and slides one long finger inside me.
“Shush, baby. Let’s not give the driver an audio performance.”
“I can’t help it,” I pant, riding the two fingers he’s now working inside me. “That feels too good.”
“You need to be a good girl, Em. You must be quiet, or we wait until we get home.” His challenging stare dares me to disobey. “I won’t have any other man listening to the sexy little noises you make or hear how you sound when you’re coming on my cock.”
“So possessive,” I murmur, biting on the inside of my cheek to stifle a moan when he adds a third finger to my pussy.
“Possessive and proud; now promise, Em, or you’re getting nothing else.”
“I promise,” I say, hoping I haven’t just lied.
“That’s my girl.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth to smother my gasp when he lifts me up and sets me down on the seat on my back. Zayn shoves my dress to my waist and drags my panties down my legs. Then he spreads me wide and feasts .
I stuff a hand into my mouth to trap my whimpers as my husband devours me with unbridled passion. Stars shoot across my retinas as his tongue plunges inside me while his finger presses down on my clit. He works diligently, taking me over the edge in record time. Zayn covers my mouth with his hand to mute my passionate cries as I come apart underneath him in wave after wave of heavenly bliss.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” Tugging his zipper down, he frees his cock from his pants. “And I need in my pussy right fucking now.”
“Yes, yes, please,” I pant, bending my knees and letting them fall to either side to accommodate my husband as he settles between my thighs.
He cups my bare pussy. “Mine.” His eyes flare with lust.
“Yours. Now fuck what belongs to you.”
“Gladly, wife.” Flashing me a wicked grin, he drives into me in one quick thrust.