Page 3 of Mismatched

“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?—”

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