Chapter 8 #2
"After the mountain road," he says, as if this is normal.
He went home the night of the mountain road and read my blog.
I'm going to need a moment.
"The piece about the Amalfi Coast," he says. "The part about how the light looks different depending on which direction you're facing. That's the writing you should be doing more of."
The Amalfi piece was two years ago. I wrote it on a balcony at seven in the morning and I remember thinking: this is the version I wish I always wrote. And then I went back to being practical and producing content on schedule.
"I'll do more of that," I say. And I mean it the way I've been meaning things this week, completely, without the hedging I usually wrap around intentions.
"I know you will." He closes the document. "Send the pitch to Justin tonight with the revised rates."
"Bossy," I say.
Something shifts in his expression, a warmth that has an edge to it, the look I've been cataloguing all week and am finally beginning to read clearly. "Yes," he says, simply. "You knew that."
I did know that.
I knew it on a mountain road when he said ‘stand by your vehicle’, and I just did.
I knew it in the library when he said ‘tell me what happened’ and I felt myself settle into the question instead of deflecting it. And I definitely knew it when he spanked me.
I've known it all week and I've been letting myself know it incrementally, like my heart was being careful about the rate at which it updated its own beliefs.
"Yes," I say. "I knew that."
He holds my gaze for a moment and then he stands and picks up his coffee cup and says, "Come on. Holly wants everyone for dinner and if we're late she'll text me."
"She'll text you?"
"She texted me at two to say she was 'just confirming the headcount,'" he says, in a tone that makes it clear he knows exactly what Holly was doing.
I love Holly so much.
I close the laptop and go.
Dinner is the five of us again, me and Anthony and Holly and Justin and Marco, who arrives late and loudly with a bottle of something he claims he's been saving for a special occasion and proceeds to distribute with zero restraint.
Anthony sits beside me. Not across from me but beside me, from the beginning, the chair pulled in close. He puts his hand on my knee at some point during the second course and leaves it there. I put my hand over his without looking away from the conversation.
Holly watches this happen with the expression of someone who has won a long game and is being gracious about it. Like a cat who has gotten into the milk. The thing about Holly is, she could never play poker, her face speaks too loudly.
Justin says, "About time," to Anthony, in a voice he probably thinks is too quiet to carry, and Anthony gives him a look that Marco immediately asks about and Justin says, "Nothing," in a way that makes Marco louder.
At some point Holly reaches across the table and squeezes my hand briefly and I squeeze back and neither of us says anything because we don't need to.
This is what a found family feels like. I know this from the books. I'm in the middle of it now and it's better than the books.
Everything this week has been better than the books.
He walks me to my suite at ten.
This is new. This is not the library door or the lodge entrance. This is the long corridor of the private wing and the door of my specific guest room.
I turn at the door and he's right there, and the physical chemistry that's been building since a mountain road and a baby elk and two trucks and a near-miss that I'm going to be grateful for every day of my life is entirely present between us.
"The grand opening is Friday," I say, because I'm stalling and he knows I'm stalling and he's going to let me.
"It is."
"And you leave Sunday." He adds quietly.
"I drive back Sunday." I look at him. "I've been thinking about the six-week gap."
"So have I."
"Any thoughts?"
He takes a step closer. Not all the way, just enough. "A few." His hand comes up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Are you going to send the pitch tonight?"
Right. The pitch.
"Yes," I say.
"Good girl."
Oh.
Oh, that one landed right between my thighs. My clit is literally buzzing with the chemistry.
I've read those words. I've read them dozens of times in dozens of books and understood them intellectually and thought yes, I understand the appeal. And I’ve understood it this week. But tonight? Tonight it lands differently.
"Anthony," I say, in a voice that has lost some of its steadiness.
"I know," he says, and he kisses me.
Different from the ridge. That was the beginning, open and discovering and asking something.
This is an answer. His hands frame my face and I'm backed gently against the door and there's nothing tentative about any of it. This is the kiss of someone who is done deciding and wants me to be completely clear about that. It’s the most claiming kiss I’ve ever felt.
It’s almost violent. I kiss back, giving him the answer.
I am completely clear about it.
When he pulls back I'm holding the lapels of his coat and I don't immediately let go.
"Send the pitch," he says, against my mouth. "Then sleep."
He's giving me instructions while his hands are still on my face and I can still feel the warmth of his mouth on mine and it should be funny. It is a little funny. It's also the most cared-for I've felt in years.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll send it and I'll sleep."
“Try again.”
Oh.
I’ve read this a million times. I’m answering incorrectly.
“Yes, Daddy.”
He brushes his thumb along my cheekbone once. "Good girl."
There it is again.
"Goodnight, Anthony."
"Goodnight." He steps back. Unhurried. Completely in control of himself.
I go inside. I am not completely in control of myself. I’ve never been this turned on in my life. I’m going to need more than kisses and stat.
What is wrong with me? I’ve never had sex on the first date. I’ve never had sex with a man I’ve only known for a week. But here we are… me wanting to run down the hallway and jump his bones.
I take a cold shower. Because I wouldn’t be able to function in the mood I was in.
I send the pitch as ordered with the revised rates and then text the group chat.
MAYA: He said 'good girl' again and I can’t stand it.
EMILY: MAYA.
LILY: STOP.
MADISON: How did it sound?
MAYA: Like everything I've ever read about it except completely different because it was real and it was him.
HOLLY: I knew it. I knew he was a Daddy from the moment Justin described him to me.
AMBER: What was the context?
MAYA: He told me to send the pitch and sleep and then kissed me against my door and then said it.
LILY: Kissed you against your DOOR? You couldn’t have led with that?
EMILY: He kissed her against her door and then told her to do her homework.
MADISON: That is the most Daddy Dom thing I have ever heard in my life.
MAYA: It was.
MAYA: It really was.
CHLOE: How do you feel?
MAYA: Like something clicked into place. Like a lock that I had but had no key for and now there's a key.
HOLLY: Yes. That's it. That's exactly it.
EMILY: We love this for you.
LILY: We love HIM for you.
MADISON: Did you send the pitch?
MAYA: I sent the pitch.
MADISON: Good girl.
MAYA: DO NOT.
CHLOE: She said it.
AMBER: Madison said it.
LILY: We're all saying it.
MAYA: GOODNIGHT
EMILY: She sent the pitch and she's going to sleep and she has a Daddy.
HOLLY: Best week ever.
MAYA: Best week ever.