Page 73 of Ruthless Serenade

"You needed it." He cuts me off. "Just take it."

Okay, Mister.

Once we dropped our shopping in the trunk and got back inside his car, Maron turns towards me. "You’re here," is all he says, but there’s so much emotion, so much longing in those words that my heart begins to race again. And it’s more than just that. I also feel my body beginning to heat and the familiar tingling in my pussy growing stronger.

And then, as if he could sense every tumultuous thought and feeling swirling within me, he leans in and kisses me.

Just like that.

And it’s like fireworks going off.

Seven years of pent-up longing explodes, releasing the energy of a dying star. His lips ravage mine with a wild force that sweeps me away. He kisses with primal desire like a man possessed. He kisses like he wants to fuck me right here, right now. Like he wants me to scream his name, shake with ecstasy, and be completely undone in his hands until I’m reduced a puddle of need and want.

We finally break apart, both of us panting heavily. "Put your seatbelt on," he commands.

"What… why?" I pant, barely catching my breath.

He glances at me briefly. "You said we need to talk," he responds with a smug expression. "We’re going somewhere we can talk."

Chapter Thirty

Mindy

New York High.

The sign that’s become iconic in my life flashes above the entrance as we pull into the parking lot. The maître d' escorts us through the swanky dining room and we plop down in a cozy booth, gazing intently at each other.

After a few moments of tense silence, Maron casually throws out: "So, how’s life been treating you?"

I close my eyes for a moment. How do I even begin answering his question? Do I tell him about the crushing loneliness since he left? What it’s like to be a single mother in New York? How Sharon’s selective mutism is bringing new challenges? Or that she just had a serious surgery and we weren’t sure she was going to come out of it?

Maybe I should tell him about the pain I’d felt when I thought he got shot and died. Or maybe I should finally explain to him what happened on the night when everything fell apart: that Maurice stupidly mixed Tramoxine with alcohol and that I was only trying to help him. Or that I had nothing to do with Alexis exposing Tramoxine to the public.

Then again, all that was an eternity ago. And this clearly isn’t the time to tear open old wounds. Maybe there won’t ever be a time. All I know is that I’m exhausted from barely sleeping last night and I’m just happy that my daughter is going to beokay. And that right now, I just want to sit here and simply enjoy seeing Maron again.

"Taking every day as it comes," I reply. It sounds so lame, but it’s all I can come up with right now. And I’m not lying per se, if anything, I’m giving him a vague version of the truth.

Maron clears his throat and locks eyes with me. "I saw you here with some guy," he nonchalantly remarks, but I can sense a hint of emotion in his tone.

I raise my eyebrow. What guy? Nesbit? The one who could only talk about his investments, and I had to fake an emergency call from Betty just to escape that dreadful date? And he saw me? What the hell was he doing here anyway?

I give Maron a disapproving look. "You can’t be serious, Maron."

"I am. " He nods earnestly. "I was sitting right here and you were at that table over there," he gestures towards the secluded corner.

I shake my head. "And?"

"Are you two a thing?" he asks after a short silence.

I roll my eyes. I can’t believe he’s doing this. "If you have to know, we aren’t. It was a failed date. Never saw the guy after that."

"Right." Maron nods. He doesn’t show any emotion, but I know him well enough to tell that he’s relieved. And that makes me happy.

Why the hell does that make you happy, Mindy?

"And who were you here with?" I want to bite back the question, but it’s out before I can think better of it. What if he says something like,‘Oh, just celebrating the arrival of our third child with my wife.’

Maron visibly clenches his jaw. "My girlfriend."

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