Page 51 of Mismatched

Deep down, I know none of these things will really make a difference. But it’s hard not to aim for some vague sense of control. So Lydia and I have been enjoying fresh pineapple every day with breakfast. Because why not.

But now that we’re officially back in the “fertility window,” I’ll admit, I’m just excited for the chance to get naked with my wife. It wasn’t hard to back off when she first got her period. I needed some time, and she wasn’t feeling good. But then I decided to hold off a little longer, just keep my distance, see what would happen. I wanted it to be her choice to start again. But I also wondered if she’d miss it.

I guess she did. Because the second Lydia walks in the door from work, she’s in my arms, and I’m kissing her. Her hands are in my hair and on my ass, and we both laugh when we nearly fall over onto the couch.

“Do you want to just stay in tonight?” she asks, coming up for air.

“No,” I say against her lips. “I’ve been imagining you in a dress all day. I can’t deny myself the real thing.”

She giggles. “I could just put one on for you to take off right now?”

“Tempting as that is...” I run my tongue along her jaw until she shivers, then push her gently away. “We do have a reservation.”

With a huff, she disappears down the hall to take the world’s fastest shower before disappearing into our room. I feed Heartthrob while I wait, tossing his octopus toy outside until it’s too hot for both of us and he goes in to flop down under the air conditioner.

Lydia emerges after about twenty minutes, and by then I’m pacing with anticipation. But as soon as I lay eyes on her, my throat nearly seizes up. She put on a simple blue and white sundress, exactly as I’d hoped. But oh. My God.

“Does this look okay?” she asks, fiddling with the straps. The dress itself isn’t overtly sexy, but it clearly wasn’t designed for someone with my wife’s proportions. While it perfectly hugs her waist, the neckline plunges so wide and low, it edges on indecent. “It’s a little snug. Maybe I should change?”

“Yes,” I croak, reconsidering her offer to stay home. She looks so goddamn fuckable. I’m already hard. “I mean—no, don’t take it off. Yes, it looks amazing—please don’t change.” My voice actually cracks.

She levels me with the most unexpectedly wicked gaze. Like she’s considering unzipping my pants and taking me out right here. It’s like a lightning bolt to my dick.

I look down, at my watch, just to get myself under control. “We should ah... go. If we’re going to make it on time.”

She picks up her purse and moves toward the door, and my eyes rake over her back. Her bare shoulders. The way the dress hugs her waist, then flares out over her hips. The hem is short, though not as scandalous as the neckline. But it would tease if she were to bend over.

“Wait, Lydia,” I say in a husky voice.

She turns to look at me, and I lick my lips. Because I’m pretty sure what I say next will make her squirm. And I can’t fucking wait.

“Before we go...” I swallow. “Take off your panties.”

I see every thought march across her beautiful face. What are you, nuts? Why would anyone do that? I’m not taking my— Then I watch a slow blush make its way over her cheeks as she realizes what I’m asking. “You mean go to dinner without...?”

She can’t bring herself to actually say it. And just that has my pants so tight I’m not sure how I’m going to walk. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

She searches my face again, waiting to see if I’m joking. I make sure my expression says I most certainly am not. A minute goes by, and she’s clearly weighing my request against her own comfort. If she says she doesn’t want to, obviously I’m not going to make her. Six months ago, I would never have even made the suggestion. But so much has changed in our relationship. I have never felt bold enough to ask her this, but you can bet I’ve fantasized about it.

“We’re short on time, Lydia . . .”

She presses her lips together. Then slowly sets down her purse and reaches behind her, lifting the skirt of her dress very purposely where I can’t see. She looks right at me, and then with one slight movement, a pair of blue satin and lace panties fall to the floor around her ankles.

I am salivating. But I offer my hand as she steps out and I bend to retrieve them, tossing them to the little table where we leave our keys and other sundries. She looks at them almost wistfully, then opens the door and I follow her out to my truck. A neighbor two houses down waves from where they’re mowing their lawn, and we both nod at a man walking his corgi down the sidewalk. But all I can think about is my wife’s bare pussy under that dress.

I open the truck door and whisper in her ear, “This could be a short dinner.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

I can’t believe he convinced me to do this. I cross and uncross my legs for what must be the tenth time since we sat down, glancing nervously around the restaurant, but it doesn’t help. The couple across from us seems to look at me and laugh, a man near the door leers in my direction, and then there’s our waiter, whose every question or comment seems somehow suggestive. Oh yes, that dish is served with a delicate cream sauce.

I am ninety-nine percent sure they all know I’m not wearing panties.

But the worst is my husband, who definitely does. He’s seated himself next to me, where he can watch me writhe every time his hand manages to somehow brush my thigh. His eyes have been down the front of my dress since we left the house, and I’m more than a little concerned he’s going to do something indecent. I almost want him to.

God, what is wrong with me?

I glance down, tugging at my neckline again. It plunges so low, it feels like my nipples will slip out if I breathe too deeply. I’d been planning to return the dress since I ordered it in the way wrong size, but I was feeling bold and excited as I got ready for our date. Only wearing the dress in public doesn’t feel quite the same as it did in my bedroom.

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