Page 39 of Mismatched

A burst of delight thrills inside my chest, and I take a moment to admit maybe the therapist has the right approach. I have always pulled away from this sort of back and forth. So uncomfortable in my own body, I never knew how to respond—how to nurture my own desire. I would simply avoid anything that might encourage my husband’s touch.

But... I think I’m starting to crave it.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Let’s get home.” I lead the way into the darkened front room of the grooming salon, but before I can stir Heartthrob out of his kennel, Anton’s arm slips around my waist, pulling me back.

“You should have been home hours ago,” he says into my ear.

I go still, a ribbon of guilt twisting through my middle. “I—I’m sorry. You’re right. Things got away?—”

“Didn’t I warn you about working too much?” he growls, stubble tickling my cheek.

My eyes widen. I look around the darkened shop, at the shadows of four grooming stations lined up with four mirrors along the wall.

Do I need to come bend you over one of your grooming tables and remind you about work-life balance?

“I—” I gasp, a light tingle starting up between my legs. “You did.”

He turns me in his arms, and I can see the arousal on his face in the dim porch light shining through the window. Feel it in the way he’s gripping my ass.

I glance at the huge glass window at the front of the shop.

“Is the door locked?” he mutters in my ear, following my train of thought.

“Yes.” My pulse spikes. “But... what if someone looks in?”

His mouth locks over mine, smothering my anxiety. “What if they do?”

And I realize from his tone he likes that idea. The risk of getting caught. Of being seen.

My chest pounds. I have to admit—it has never once occurred to me to have sex at work. It is possibly the least sexy place I can think of doing it. Not only that, it just seems... wrong. Not necessarily taboo, but like coloring outside the lines. Or crossing the street without a walk signal.

“Lydia,” he says in an authoritative voice I recognize. It’s one he’s been cultivating to get me out of my own thoughts. “We are married. You own this place. We can fuck here if we want to.”

Another flash of sensation zips through my core. I look up, and he walks me backward, holding my gaze, until I’m pinned against the grooming table in the shadows at the very back of the shop.

“And I can’t lie,” he growls, “I’ve always wanted to.”

“I...” I gasp as his hand snakes under my shirt, pulling the cup of my bra aside to tweak my nipple. I bite back a groan. “It is pretty dark back here...”

“Yes,” he whispers. “And your handyman just found a couple things that still need fixing.”

He lifts me almost without effort, seating me on the grooming table, then reaches under my shirt and slips it over my head in one swift movement. One side of my bra is still pulled down, exposing my left breast, and he leans in to suck my nipple into his mouth while reaching around to unfasten the clasp.

“Oh,” I exclaim as he very gently bites down. And then he pulls away, leaning to one side to drape my bra on the little peg where we usually hang dog collars.

He steps back to look at me and narrows his eyes. “Don’t move.”

He disappears into the bathing room, and I startle at the reflection of my naked torso in the mirror on the back wall across from me. The one we typically use to see all angles of a dog’s haircut. I cover myself with my arms, glancing over my shoulder toward the front door. Ooh La Pooch sits in a little strip of shops in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. There is a florist and a real estate office, but no restaurants or shops that would be open late. And while the porch light filters through the glass enough for us to see each other, the glare outside will keep anyone from seeing in unless they come right up to the window.

But still... I can’t help thinking someone will come along and peer in.

“Eyes on me,” Anton says, drawing my attention as he comes back from the bathing room holding a clean towel.

“Anton, maybe we should...” I trail off when I notice how he’s looking at me. Like he’s just walked in on something he’s always wanted to see.

“The only thing hotter than you sitting here topless would be you on that table completely fucking naked.” His eyes light up when I squirm at his words, but his voice quickly softens. “If you’d rather go home to our bed where you feel safer, I’ll take you. As long as we can go right now.”

I bite my lip. I am dying a little, knowing that he wants to do this here, on display. In a place I spend hours as a professional during the day. I glance at the front window through the mirror and shiver, feeling so exposed. But I know Anton wouldn’t put me in a position where anything bad was likely to happen. We’re in here with the lights off and the doors locked, after hours. And one glance at the bulge in his pants tells me he is very excited about that. Even if I’m struggling.

---