Mismatched (Unmatched #2)

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Mondays used to be my favorite. This bleary notion reaches through a swirl of other thoughts at the sound of my grating alarm. But in the silence that follows, I can’t remember—why aren’t they anymore?

Sunlight spills across my pillow, and I retreat under the covers like a vampire, backing into something warm and hard.

Anton. My husband.

Before my brain comes online, in a moment made up entirely of old habit, my instinct is to flinch away from him. There are things to do. An important meeting, orders to place, payroll to—nope. I keep forgetting. That one’s been taken off my plate.

Anton’s hands snake lazily around my waist, pulling me against him, back into the present. And this time I overcome my thoughts and melt into his embrace. Press into his firm length. Feel it harden even more against my ass.

I look over my shoulder at his sleepy face. His still-closed eyes and smooth forehead tell me he’s not fully awake, hasn’t really thought about anything yet either. And I want to hang onto this moment—suspend us here, where nothing matters. I press a kiss to his stubbly chin, hoping to steal some of his calm .

He comes a little more alive in response; his arms tightening around me, lips grazing along my shoulder, up the side of my neck, behind my ear. Inhaling so deeply when he gets to my hair, it’s like he’s trying to breathe me in.

My thoughts invade again.

Make coffee, walk the dog. Run reports.

I close my eyes. It’s a trick I’ve found sometimes works to shut down my brain and stay present—one our new therapist encourages me to employ. I focus on the heat of Anton’s palms sliding down over my hips, past the hem of my cotton nightgown, dipping under the light fabric and up along my waist. Tentatively, his fingers work their way over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps as they cup the undersides of my breasts.

“Good morning, Mrs. Richie,” he rumbles in my ear, sending ribbons of warmth through my core and along my limbs.

I arch my back in response, stretching the length of my body against him, thrusting my breasts into his palms. This is the part where I can’t lose focus. Where I need to tune in to every movement and breath to kindle the heat inside me. This comes naturally to some people, but I’m not one of them. I understand this now.

“Good morning to you,” I say in a low voice, fighting an urge to check the clock. I set an early alarm. There is time for this before the day starts. If we hurry.

And as Anton thrusts his leg between mine, lifting me and grinding against my center with his thigh, the slightest tingle forms within my core. I smile. Maybe I’m getting the hang of this.

His grip on my breasts softens, and his fingers find my nipples. Well, the one cooperative one, and the other he coaxes. I reach back to stroke him as he works my body. He’s clearly ready to go, but we’re both in tune with the need to build my arousal. I have a “responsive” sex drive, as our therapist says. My mind might be on board, but the rest of me needs prompting. And the more we work my body, the greater my desire.

I rub my ass playfully against his naked form, and he groans. The sound unfurls something inside me, and I take it a step further—shifting my hips until his cock sits neatly between my bare ass cheeks, then slowly, sliding up and down the length of him, teasing his tip when it reaches my moistening center. I manage this twice before I’m seized and rolled onto my back.

“Where did you learn that?” Anton asks, his hazel eyes so dark they’re almost black.

I take a second to catch my breath, staring up from my new position beneath him. When I try to move my arms, I find he’s pinned them above my head, and my face floods with heat. Because I think I like it.

“I... I don’t know... it just seemed like something to try,” I say honestly. Nothing I ever do in bed is pre-planned. Usually everything is a reaction to him.

He’s staring back at me with a carnal expression I’ve never seen, eyes drifting down like he’s deciding where to start devouring me. And then it happens—for just a moment, my gaze drifts toward the bedside table, and I try to calculate the time. It’s the tiniest flicker, but he clearly notices. And I freeze, caught beneath him.

“You’re not supposed to do that,” he chides.

“I—I didn’t,” I say. But I’m frowning because we both know it’s a lie. “Okay, fine. But I stopped. Anyway, when she assigned our ‘homework’ I doubt she imagined us getting busy right before work.”

He grunts. “Any time.”

“What?”

“She said, any time we’re making love, you’re supposed to maintain focus.”

“Okay, but Anton, I can’t. Not if it’ll make us both late.”

He raises a brow, looking at me pointedly.

I open my mouth to ask if that’s supposed to mean something, but then he says, “Maybe we just need to make you focus.”

His voice is playful, but he’s still holding my arms pinned above my head, and then his other hand wanders down, trailing along my waist.

“H-how?” I stutter.

He reaches my hip and rocks me toward him, onto my side, fingers scorching through my nightgown until they dip low enough to sneak beneath the hem.

“I have some thoughts,” he says, laying his palm gently on the bare skin of my ass. He kneads my flesh in his firm grip, heating it under his fingers, then charting wide circles around the perimeter of my backside, bringing every inch of my skin to life. “But I think I like your suggestion best...”

I draw my brows together, unsure what he’s talking about, though I’m having trouble thinking about anything other than the pattern he’s tracing on my skin.

He brings his lips close, whispering low and salacious next to my ear, “You said you wanted to try spanking, remember?”

My eyelids flutter. Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of his hand on my backside, the reverent way he’s kneading and caressing my flesh. And I want to put a stop to this—wrap the sheets around my body, shield myself from the very idea— except .

There’s the faintest ache blooming between my legs.

Anton continues, hand circling warm and scorching against my ass, and I thrust back involuntarily, trying to imagine his palm coming down hard on the right side, or the left. What would it feel like—sound like? God . Would it sting?

A noise escapes my throat. Possibly a whimper. And with every circle of his palm, my core tightens until it’s nearly throbbing.

“We could try it,” he says, low and gravelly.

My face is so hot, I can’t bring myself to look up at him. I shake my head. “It—it just seems?—”

“Exciting?” he asks.

I bite my lip, unwilling to answer.

He whispers in my ear, “It’s okay, Lydia. I won’t make you call me Daddy. ”

I rear back to look at him, one hundred percent mortified, before I realize he’s stifling a laugh.

He shakes his head, releasing my arms so he can trace his other finger over my nipple, leaving it hard beneath the fabric of my nightgown. “I told you the first time you brought it up, I’m not into that. I didn’t think I’d like to spank you at all... until I did some reading.”

I relax my arms, but his hands keep exploring. And while I can’t ignore the way my body’s coming alive, I wish we were talking about anything else.

“As it turns out,” Anton continues, entering full Professor Google mode. “Spanking can relieve stress and anxiety, heighten intimacy, and provide pleasure.” His one hand ministers to my nipples while the other continues fondling my backside. “When used as a consensual sexual act, it can cause the brain to release endorphins, oxytocin, and dopamine. And because it increases blood flow to the genitals, it can lead to heightened arousal.”

“Did you actually memorize all that?”

“Just doing my homework,” he says, and I wrinkle my brow until I remember our therapist saying Anton’s job is to help me focus.

Well, I guess it’s working. Because when I squeeze my legs together, all I can think about is his touch and the tension in my thighs. My hands had gone still, but now I glide my fingers over his arms, tracing the outlines of muscle he works hard for at the gym, needing to touch him back.

“So, Mrs. Richie,” he mutters, rounding my ass cheeks again with his palm. “It actually makes sense for you to want to be spanked. There’s nothing to feel ashamed about.”

His voice is hot and breathy against my ear, and I sink into the sound, unable to think of anything anymore except what it might feel like if he raised his palm and brought it down where it is right now—and how maddeningly I want him to. Then his hand does disappear from my flesh, and my core tightens. I squeeze my eyes shut.

But instead of coming down on my ass, his fingers trace purposefully between my thighs.

“Lydia.” I open my eyes in the moment we both realize I am very wet. “You understood the assignment.”

My face floods with heat. My breath hitches, but I don’t shy away. “I—I think so.”

His hand continues, exploring beneath my nightgown, gently parting my thighs. He locks eyes with me as his fingers stroke up my center, until his thumb makes contact with my clit and I gasp. But he doesn’t pause there, dipping his fingers down again, then up, repeating the motion until I’m totally slick with my own juices.

“Seems we got you quite ready,” he whispers. “What should we do next?”

Vaguely, I realize I no longer care what time it is as the ache between my legs resurges. I rise up, pushing my husband onto his back. Then I reach for the hem of my nightgown, pulling it up and over my head until I’m sitting on top of him, fully exposed. I don’t look away when his eyes darken, taking me in—more homework I’ve been assigned. Instead, I hold his gaze and tune in to his arousal, letting it further awaken mine.

As the air heats between us, I reach back and find his cock stiff and ready. His thumb finds my center again, gliding over it in tight circles as his other hand reaches to tug lightly on my nipples. The ache inside me blossoms into a thrum. I pivot back with intention, running my slick folds over his shaft until I feel him harden to steel against me, and I guide him into my awaiting center.

“ Oh ,” we murmur together, pausing as my body adjusts to him.

And then I’m moving. Rocking my hips at first, heightening the way he fills me, then frogging my legs for better leverage up and down. He rocks lightly beneath me, letting me lead the rhythm—his thumb never leaving the sensitive nub just above where we’re joined.

I arch backward, moving my breasts out of his reach but opening my legs wider to him, and another wave of heat surges through me as he focuses directly on my clit. I close my eyes, overcome by the sudden, intense sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of me, pounding deep inside. His free hand finds my ass and squeezes, reminding me of the conversation that got us here—the spanking we very nearly tried. How he proved just getting me to think about something so profane could get me aroused.

And this is my undoing.

I come in a surge of forbidden pleasure, riding waves of hard-fought euphoria, squeezing Anton deeper inside me. As soon as I’m past my peak, he grabs my wrists and my eyes pop open as he drives upward into me, hard and relentless, bouncing me on his dick until I cry out as his release comes with a hard thrust.

“ Fuck. ”

We hold perfectly still in that moment. And the next. Then I collapse down on top of him, and he wraps me in his arms, pulling the tangle of covers over our naked bodies. Neither of us speaks for several minutes as we listen to the sounds of our breath returning to normal. Finally, Anton pushes my tousled hair off my cheek and kisses me.

“Looks like you aced another homework assignment, Mrs. Richie.”

I smile, blinking back at him. “Who knew a former flunky could turn into such a good student?”

His eyes crinkle, and my heart swells—then stutters at an unexpected thought. What if I had lost this? We came so close. Just a few months ago, neither of us was happy, and I’d found his profile on a cheating app—Unmatched. He hadn’t connected with any other women yet, so I created an account for myself, hoping to teach him a lesson. This resulted in a hookup that wound up devastating us and saving our marriage.

But if I’d rejected him, thrown him out...

If he’d connected with someone else and we never got this chance . . .

We would have lost so much, it hurts to think about.

“I love you,” I say, spreading my fingers possessively against his chest.

“I love you .” He lays a playful kiss on my nose. But then, as if sensing my thoughts, quietly repeats the words that ultimately led him back into my heart. “You are all I’ve ever wanted.”

I smile, tangling my fingers in his hair, lingering another second. “Well, if you still want your job, you should probably get up and shower.”

Anton grumbles, dragging himself out of bed, but his speed kicks up when he looks at his watch and registers the time.

I grab my phone off the bedside table and grimace. My schedule is actually more flexible than his, but... “We’re both going to be very, very late.”

He heads for the bathroom with confidence, looking like a naked Olympian. “Morning sex is always an excuse for tardiness.”

I snort. “ That is one I haven’t heard from my employees.”

The shower comes on as I stand, and the trickle of fluid running down my legs makes me think to join him. However, our movements have stirred the seventy-five pound Akita mix who was previously sleeping soundly by the door. Heartthrob plants himself in front of me, wagging his tail and spinning in circles.

“Okay.” I sigh. “Dog food. Coffee. Then shower.”

I throw on my robe, vaguely registering the ring of Anton’s phone behind the bathroom door.

“Hey, Sethie.” I hear him greet his brother on my way to the kitchen. It’s been nearly two months since their mom took a turn for the worse and we flew to Dallas. Since then, Seth has called regularly, if only just to say that nothing’s changed.

But as I set Heartthrob’s breakfast down for him, I’m startled by a crash from down the hall. I open my mouth to call out, but by the time sound comes, I’m already to the door.

“Anton!”

I find my husband sitting on the floor, wet and half-wrapped in a towel. His phone lays next to him on the tile. Behind him, our shower caddy and an array of shampoo bottles and body wash are scattered on the bottom of the tub under a spray of steam and running water.

He looks at the mess like he’s not sure what happened and moves to get up.

“Wait. Are you all right? Did you hit your head?” I kneel and touch his shoulder. There’s no blood. He doesn’t appear injured, but he’s super pale.

He shakes his head. “No, I?—”

“Hello? Anton?” On the floor, Seth’s voice echoes small and tinny, apparently still connected on speakerphone.

Anton retrieves it, turning it over to find the screen completely shattered. He curses, but it comes out sounding hollow.

“Seth, what’s going on?” I ask. “Did something happen with Sharon?”

“Lydia.” My brother-in-law’s voice comes through the speaker, low and somber. “She’s gone.”