Page 37 of Just Past Two

“And what about when you want to do it again?”

“We don’t have to do anything we’re not both into.” How many times were they going to go through this? “Seriously, if you want to stop, we can stop, but I thought we were both having a good time. Eventually we’ll either run out of fantasies or we’ll get to a point where the other person doesn’t want to participate. Otherwise, we’re only doing stuff we’re both into.” He paused, a terrible thought running through his head. “Unless you’re not into this? Unless you’re saying yes because of some other reason?” Would she do that? Would she say yes when she meant no, just out of some desire to…to what?

“No.” Her guilty expression shifted to angst, her eyes going wide. “No. I haven’t been lying. I’ve been into all of this. I just feel like we can’t go on forever.”

“So let’s not go on forever. Let’s just go as long as we want.” He wanted her to be okay with what they’d done. Even if she didn’t want to ever do anything else, they couldn’t close these doors on what had happened. He didn’t want to. Sam moved closer again, and this time she let him take her hands. “Listen. Last weekend with Zach, it was huge. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Watching you with him… I’ve never been so turned on in my life, Abby, you have to believe that.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, like she wanted this to be true, and he kept talking. “If you don’t want to do anything else, if you really want to stop now, we can stop. You don’t have to share any of your other fantasies. You already made mine come true. We don’t have to do any of it again if you don’t want to.”

Abby’s expression twisted, like she was trying to hide a range of emotions, and she settled on something neutral, something passive, frustratingly passive. “We’re going to be late for the party.”

“Then let’s be late.” They couldn’t leave unless they resolved this. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. “What do you want? Do you want to go back to how things were before all this?”

“We can’t, and you know that.” She pulled back, dropping her arms. “You know all these things about me now. You know I like getting teased, and tied up, and I like you to top me. You know I like being watched.” Her face was growing pinker, slowly turning to red. “And I liked last weekend. I liked getting fucked by Zach. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that. I shouldn’t like that. I shouldn’t be so okay with that. You’re my husband, and you’re supposed to be the only person I’m with.”

Was that at the root of this? “I don’t know how to convince you I’m okay with it.”

She let out a long, shaky breath. “I guess I’m just having trouble with what it means for us, long-term. Who we are, you and me, as a couple.” She looked off toward the window, folding her arms, her gaze going soft like she was lost in thought. “I’m okay,” she said after a couple of moments. “I’m okay.”

“You believe me, though, right?” She couldn’t go thinking he was secretly resenting her for being attracted to Zach. He needed confirmation, or all of this felt groundless. “You believe I liked last weekend, that I like all of it?”

She smiled at him, still something guarded about her smile. “I do believe you, yeah. I believe you had a good time last weekend. I believe that you are fine with everything.” She looked like she was going to say something more, her lips opening once again, but then she closed them and didn’t elaborate.

“Okay.” He had to trust her; she was his wife. He had to trust that she would tell him the truth about these feelings.

She gestured for the door, shutting down the conversation. “Come on. You want to drive, or should I?”

…

Maybe this party was a bad idea.

Abby tipped back her glass of champagne and took another look around the Dooney Architecture Annual Gala. There was no denying it: Sam worked with a lot of hot guys. She’d always been aware of it on a distant level, but fresh off their new sexual adventures, her aesthetic interest had shifted into a lustier note.

Fuck.

The party wasn’t huge, despite being called a gala; Dooney Architecture was a medium-sized firm, but they invited their interior design partner company, and with spouses attending as well, all in all there were probably about a hundred people here. Enough to see everyone but not enough to disappear completely. Abby wasn’t normally the type to even want to disappear completely, but she couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to act. Could she flirt? She flirted with everybody, but it was different to flirt when her interest was hypothetical versus when she was actually thinking about fucking someone.

“You all right?” Sam asked, touching the middle of her back and steering her over toward a waiter with passed appetizers. “You froze up for a minute, there.”

Sam was gorgeous, no doubt about it. Looked good, smelled good, embodied everything she wanted in a man. Why was she even looking at anyone else?

“Just got lost in thought.” She smiled up at him so he wouldn’t see that she was a horny, guilty little mess. “Are those beef Wellington canapés?” She snatched one up and popped it into her mouth, just to have something to do.

“Sam and Abby!”

The deep, warm voice knocked her out of her daze as Stephan, one of the other architects Sam worked with, came over to greet them. He shook Sam’s hand before pulling him into a hug, and then embraced Abby as well. God, Stephan. Tall, Greek, gorgeous, with curly black hair and dark eyes, this olive-skinned beauty had been a subject of Abby’s admiration for, what, a year and a half now? Ever since she first saw him at the company’s Labor Day picnic. Of course he would come over now, while she was a bundle of unsettled hormones, looking beautiful and enticing as ever. He even pronounced his name the gorgeous way, accent on the second syllable, as European as his heritage.

“It’s nice to see you, Stephan,” Sam said. “Jo join you tonight?”

Abby had only met Stephan’s equally beautiful wife once, at that first Labor Day picnic.

“Jo’s around here somewhere.” Stephan glanced around. “Schmoozing, as usual.” He laughed, warm and deep, and snagged a canapé from a passing waiter. “Are you having fun tonight? Abby, enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” Her mouth had dried up, and she didn’t even say “thank you” or ask him how he was doing. That was an invitation to follow up with some other conversation, but no words came. Sam looked at her curiously. It wasn’t like her to run out of small talk; these casual exchanges were her specialty.

Stephan seemed to be waiting for something else, but shifted the conversation smoothly. “I swear, these get more extravagant every year. I keep waiting for the invitation to say ‘black tie,’ and I won’t be surprised.”

“Tuxes are good,” Abby blurted out. They both looked at her. Tuxes are good? Really? That was her meaningful addition to this conversation? “I mean. I like them. They look good. On people.” Jesus, Abby, stop talking now. She was sounding like a blithering idiot.

Sam’s eyebrows were both twitching upward, and he had that look that he was trying not to call her out on being a dumbass. He never would, not in public. “You want to see me in a tux?” he teased, smiling, defusing some of the tension.