Chapter Twenty-Six
It’s strange to be on a date.
Mallory and Alec have been together since college, so when they go out to eat it’s just getting food.
But everything about her evening with Gavin seems to shimmer with romance, from the cute farm-to-table restaurant in Gramercy, to the buoyant conversation, to the hand-in-hand stroll back to his apartment.
Gavin’s two-bedroom is decorated with comfortable couches and rugs in earth tones, lots of wood, and just the right amount of exposed brick.
But the exceptional part is his terrace.
Private outdoor space is rare in Manhattan, and Mallory is impressed.
She knows that Gavin works hard and is self-made.
Unlike people like Billy Barton, Gavin wasn’t handed anything.
“This is amazing,” she says, sitting on a comfortable wicker chair, looking at the cityscape below.
“I’ll be right back with the wine. I figured we should stick with the reds. I have a bottle of Silver Oak I’ve been waiting to open.”
She’s happy for a few moments alone to collect her thoughts—to take her own emotional temperature.
If she’s being honest with herself, as much as she’s enjoying the evening, she has mixed feelings.
She misses Alec. She even feels a little guilty, even though she’s technically not cheating on him.
Not cheating on him at all, she reminds herself.
This is what a breakup looks like. And yes, maybe it’s a little fast to already be in the arms of someone else.
But it’s not like she went online looking for someone.
This thing with Gavin just happened. It was so unexpected and not ideal that she quit her job over it.
She’s being a responsible adult. It’s her life!
So maybe she should stop thinking so much.
Gavin returns with the wine and a cashmere blanket.
“Just in case the heater isn’t enough,” he says. Thanking him, she wraps the blanket around herself like a shawl. And with her first sip of the Napa Valley cabernet, she feels a rush of luxury and well-being.
“It’s really nice to be able to enjoy wine outside this time of year,” she says.
“I know. Some nights it’s just too cold even with the heaters, but we got lucky tonight. It helps get me through the winters, though what I’d really like to do is get a place in California and travel more during January and February if I can manage the workload at the office.”
“One thing I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Mallory says, relaxed by the wine and the seeping tiredness she’s beginning to feel. “Why did you choose divorce law?”
Gavin looks thoughtful, puts down his glass, and glances up at the stars.
“Well, as I mentioned before, I got married very young, and it quickly became evident it was a mistake.”
She nods.
“It was difficult enough to decide to end the marriage, but then the legal process made it so much worse. I thought maybe I could find a way to practice that makes divorce less … ugly. Unfortunately, there’s just no way around the fundamentally adversarial nature of the process.”
She can’t imagine getting married, never mind divorced. She wonders what his wife was like and why it didn’t work out.
She shivers.
“It’s getting cold out here,” he says, noticing.
“I guess heaters have their limits.” He extends his hand to her and she stands up along with him, arranging the blanket around her shoulders so it doesn’t fall off.
She knows the evening is moving to its apex, and she’s nervous and excited at the same time.
The bedroom is cozy, with a walnut sleigh bed and bookshelves. It feels like something out of a Hallmark movie, but in a good way.
“Your place is really beautiful,” she says, wondering if she should sit on the edge of the bed or just stand there or what.
“Mallory,” he says quietly.
She turns to face him.
“I have to admit that I still feel weird about this,” he says.
Mallory nods and realizes what happens next is really up to her.
Gavin is sensitive to the fact that while she did quit, she’s technically his employee.
So no matter how clearly she’s signaled her interest, she’s going to have to put her nervousness aside and take the lead.
He can be the boss in the courtroom, but she has to call the shots in the bedroom.
She puts her arms around him and kisses him with an intensity that matches the late night at the office.
He pulls her close and runs his hands up and down her body, eagerly cupping her breasts under her sweater.
His hands are chilly but his touch is gentle, and as his fingers play with her nipples, his kiss becomes more ardent.
She moves to the edge of the bed and he follows, his hands never leaving her body.
She doesn’t want him to stop touching her; she hasn’t had sex with any man but Alec in years, and being on the verge makes her nervous.
But then, she’s an overthinker: The only thing that turns off her mind is turning on her body.
Gavin reclines on the bed and gently pulls her next to him. Heart pounding, she opens his belt, and he helps her slide his pants down. His legs are long, lean, and muscular. She imagines them wrapped around her waist.
She brushes her hand lightly over his boxers, feeling his cock hard underneath the fabric. She slips her fingers inside the opening, and touches his bare flesh, his penis so warm against her hand it’s practically throbbing. She can’t believe she’s touching Gavin Stone like this.
He lifts her sweater to kiss her breasts, and she impatiently pulls it off to give him access to her body.
His tongue traces her nipples, followed by his hands.
She sighs with pleasure, unzipping her skirt and thankful she remembered to choose her underwear carefully: cream-colored lace boy shorts from the lingerie shop La Petite Coquette—a treasure of a place that Bette introduced her to when they first met.
“God, you’re flawless,” Gavin says, his hand trailing from her breasts to the lace edge of her underwear. From her vantage point, he’s pretty damn perfect, too. She unbuttons his shirt, then slips it over his shoulders to reveal his magnificently proportioned shoulders, chest, and taut stomach.
The performer in her kicks in, and she wants to impress him.
He kisses her, his hand stroking her hair, then cradling the base of her head while his arms bring her closer to him.
Their bodies grind together, only their underwear between them.
She feels his cock so hard and defined between her legs, it’s as if there’s no fabric between them at all.
But somehow, the fact that there’s still something left to remove makes the moment all the more thrilling.
She pulls back slightly, adjusting herself so she has leverage to get on top of him. When she straddles him, he looks up at her with a sort of awe.
She gets up on her knees, slipping off her panties one leg at a time.
She tosses them aside, and Gavin immediately presses his hand to the wetness between her legs.
He touches her gingerly, his fingers slow and almost uncertain inside the folds of her pussy.
His hands aren’t as big as Alec’s, and she knows she won’t be able to come as easily as she does from her lover’s touch—so practiced and perfect.
Stop thinking about Alec!
But Gavin is being tentative, and it’s giving her mind too much space to wander.
She has an idea to unleash his reserve once and for all.
She gently presses his hand away—it’s not doing anything for her yet, and she’d rather just wait a minute and lower herself onto his gorgeous cock. She knows then that they will finally click. But first …
She leans forward and grabs her sweater from the corner of the bed.
“Come back here,” Gavin says, smiling, tugging on her hand. Holding her sweater, she leans down and kisses him, then wraps the sweater around his eyes, a loose, bulky blindfold. She reaches down to touch his cock …
“What the hell are you doing?” he snaps, pulling the sweater off his face and throwing it across the room.
“What’s wrong?” she says, jumping off him.
“What’s wrong? What do you think is wrong? Why don’t you tell me what you think you’re doing.”
“I’m, um, blindfolding you.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. Mallory …” His voice softens, but he speaks to her as if she’s a child. “Let’s be clear: I’m glad you quit burlesque. But I also don’t want these types of antics in my bedroom.”
Mallory sits back on her heels. She couldn’t be more shocked if he had physically struck her.
Then she thinks, No, he must be joking. Please let him be joking.
“Very funny,” she says, a desperate attempt to get things back on track.
Gavin sits up straight. She can’t resist peeking to see if he’s still hard.
He’s not.
“I’m serious, Mallory. Maybe with your nightlife, you’re used to sleeping with guys who expect a show in the bedroom. But I’m not one of them. I like women who have a little class.”
Mallory can’t, in that moment, think of any reply to that other than to tell him to fuck off. But she refrains. Might as well keep it “classy.”
“I should go,” she says, fumbling around for her clothes.
She feels more naked and exposed than she ever had onstage.