Page 37 of Pretending I'm Yours

Before I can respond, he bends down, kissing me with a thoroughness that sends warmth pulsing through all my well-loved places. He tastes like coffee, a hint of sugar, and sweet possibilities.

As I curl my fingers into his bare chest, loving the feel of his strength, I decide that multiple things can be true at once. Anthony can be getting paid to be with meandthink I’m something special. One doesn’t eliminate the possibility of the other.

I have to believe that. The way he gazes down at me after we pull apart is too genuine to be faked. This man likes me, I like him, and we’re going to have an amazing week together.

And maybe we won’t have to say goodbye forever…

Maybe we’ll see each other again someday, even if I have to save up money to pay for his time. Or if that feels too weird and yucky to be an ongoing thing, we can be friends.

Stranger things have happened…probably.

Though as Anthony and I hit the shower after our delicious breakfast, it’s hard to imagine being just friends. “Friends” isn’t a word that comes to mind when a man is pinning me againstcool tile as he takes me from behind, all while murmuring how much he loves being inside me into my damp hair.

I’m so turned on, so lost in the wild pleasure he makes me feel as I come for him again, I don’t realize we forgot to use a condom until he pulls out, coming on my back in hot jets even warmer than the water pouring from the shower.

“Shit, condom,” he says, still catching his breath. “I’m so sorry, Maya. I completely forgot.”

I turn in his arms, wiping the water from his cheeks before cupping his stricken face in my hands. “It’s okay. I told you; I have an IUD. And we’ve both been tested so…it’s fine.”

He frowns harder. “No, it isn’t. This isn’t something that happens. Not unless I’m in a serious, committed relationship. I want you to know that. I take unprotected sex seriously, and I’m so sorry.”

Trying not to let myself read too much into the words, I calmly assure him again that it’s okay. But on the inside, I’m bouncing up and down on the world’s largest hope trampoline.

Maybe I reallyamspecial.

And maybe I’m not the only one thinking this is too good to be over in six more days.

chapter 11

ANTHONY

As a native New Yorker,it’s easy to adopt a “been there, did that when I was ten, spare me the crowds, thank you,” attitude toward our city’s tourist attractions. Sure, I enjoy a Broadway show or a trip to Governors Island for a killer view of the Statue of Liberty from time to time, but for the most part, I avoid touristy shit like the plague.

I’m a cultural snob and far too fast a walker to have any patience with the gaping, ambling Midwesterners filling Times Square on any given afternoon. I rarely step foot in Midtown unless I have a meeting that can’t be rescheduled to my firm’s posh conference room in the Financial District.

But now, I’m so glad I braved the holiday hordes.

The look on Maya’s face as we’re slowly elevated three stories into the air above the observation deck atop Rockefeller Center is worth every second of the cramped subway ride from the Village and the battle through the crowds waiting their turn at the tiny ice rink below.

“Oh my God.” She steps forward, pressing her mittened hands against the glass, her lips parted in awe. “This is the coolest thing ever.”

“Not too shabby,” I murmur as I discreetly snap a picture of her with my phone. She’s too beautiful, with her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes filled with wonder to resist.

And a part of me knows I’m going to need photographic evidence of my week with her. Otherwise, it would be too easy to believe this wild, impulsive deviation from my status quo was a sexy dream I had on the way to a full-blown midlife crisis.

But when I’m with her, I don’t feel on the verge of a midlife crisis. Since we met at the botanic garden last night, I haven’t thought about what I left behind or what comes next for a moment. All I’ve thought about is her. And her body. And her smile. And her sweetness.

And her cat, who I’ve grown weirdly attached to since I met him in that dingy hotel room.

When she suggested we could bring Pudge on our outing if my surprise didn’t involve places that are off-limits to cats, I briefly considered revising my game plan for the afternoon. Partly because I wanted to see him dressed up in a sweater and riding in the backpack Maya brought along to facilitate cat-accompanied sightseeing, and partly because I thought it would make her happier than leaving her fur baby behind.

But now, I’m glad I promised we’d plan a Pudge-friendly outing for later in the week. Her gasp of excitement as we reach the top of our ride and the glass platform begins to spin in a slow circle is worth triple the price I paid for the VIP tickets.

The city spreads out before us, a snow-dusted landscape of architectural wonder beneath a light blue December sky. The One World Trade Center pierces the heavens to our south, while Central Park stretches north like a white blanket, dotted with bare trees and winding paths. From this height, even the yellow taxis look like toys scattered across a playmat.

“I thought the view from the Empire State Building was amazing, but this is…” She exhales with a reverent shake of her head. “This is next level. Thank you so much for bringing me.”

“Of course. I’m enjoying it, too,” I say wrapping my arms around her from behind. The warmth of her curvy body against mine contrasts perfectly with the winter chill. “We came here for a field trip when I was in fifth grade, but they didn’t have the Skylift back then. It’s nice to see everything above the crowds.”

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