Page 40 of Mismatched

And when I think how different things were when we got home from Dallas—how sad he was, how he pulled away—I don’t want to do anything to change how he’s looking at me now.

Slowly, I slide off the grooming table until my feet touch the floor. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I kick my shoes off, slip my fingers under my waistband, and peel my leggings to the floor.

A few moments later, I’m standing in front of him, in the middle of Ooh La Pooch, in just a lacy purple thong.

“Fuck, Lydia,” he mutters under his breath. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined you here, just like this.”

“You—You have?” I say, eyes locked on the floor.

He traces a finger up my side, sending a shiver through my skin. “Before Unmatched. Nights you were here working late and I was home—waiting, and waiting. I always fantasized about driving over and showing you just how much I missed you.”

I raise my head, catching movement in the mirror—the shadow of someone walking a dog across the street. I suck in a breath, holding it until they move out of sight. But when they do, when nothing happens and it’s still just the two of us, alone in the dark, I straighten. Emboldened.

“Show me,” I whisper, stepping closer to him, allowing the tingle between my legs to course into a throb. “Show me what you would have done.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I don’t need to be invited twice. I close the space between us, tip her head back, and kiss her deep, the bare skin of my chest hot against her naked flesh. My hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing the column of her neck in the dim light. My grip is gentle, but firm as I run my lips along the edge of her throat, waiting until she emits the softest moan.

Then I release her, watching with a small smirk as she wavers on her feet, bewildered as to why I’ve let her go. I unfurl the fluffy towel I grabbed from the back, whipping it over the hard plastic grooming table like I’m a magician transforming the surface. I move to the far end and remove the curved metal grooming arm arcing over the top, setting it aside on the floor. Then I turn back to where she watches me.

“Bend over and hold the edge, Mrs. Richie.”

I say it in a voice I’ve been developing just for her. One that’s deep and authoritative, that seems to grab her attention, gets her mind to stop spinning. Focus. Follow directions.

And that’s what she does. Stretching her arms out across the towel-covered table, gripping the far edge in her hands, presenting her bottom adorned in an uncharacteristic purple thong that is both a surprise and a delight.

“Like this?” she asks.

In response, I run my hands along her back, over her hips, down her legs. Tracing every major curve before me in the dim light, trying to memorize each one so I can revisit the way she looks right now in my mind forever. Slowly, I let my fingers drift back up along her skin until I reach her ass, where I let my fingers glide in worshipful circles over her cheeks. She tenses almost imperceptibly, and I draw out my movements, making sure she’s very aware of how her backside is thrust out, presented to me.

“Lydia?” My voice comes out husky and deep, and I have to pull one hand back briefly to adjust my pants around my hard-on.

“Yes,” she answers, barely above a whisper.

“Do you remember what I told you about spanking?”

I knead her flesh lightly, tracing the rim of her thong, giving her a moment with her thoughts.

“Yes,” she finally says, slightly louder than before.

“And when I described the benefits I’d read about, did you like the sound of it?” I ask in a matching tone.

She takes less time to answer, muttering an almost impatient, “Yes.”

“Good.” I lean in, releasing a hot puff of breath against one of her beautiful, curved ass cheeks, following it with a reverent kiss.

And then I wait.

Her hips shift after several seconds, tilting her backside slightly toward me. When I don’t make a move, she clears her throat. “Anton?”

“Yes, Mrs. Richie?”

“Are you going to, um . . . ?”

A smile tugs at my lips. I lay a second breathy kiss against her opposite cheek, teasing the inside edge of her thong with my finger.

“Is that a request?”

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