Page 56 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Because of Max.

Well, no. That wasn’t fair. Did I prefer to spend my limited free time with my hands on his body rather than planning a commemoration for my dead husband? Absolutely. But in all truthfulness, I would rather get my butthole waxed, too—an experience Suzie had partaken in to go completely bare and now urged us all to stay far away from.

But I had to admit that sex was an excellent way to avoid thinking about my obligations and responsibilities as George’s widow.

Because the sex had been phenomenal.

I shivered, remembering the expression on his face as I knelt before him in his office. The ferocity and heat in his eyes. The sounds he had made when I took him in my mouth. And then—on his desk—

God.

How had I gone without that for the last ten years? Maybe it was easier then, since I hadn’t known what I was missing. Now it was unfathomable. And yet, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. It had been worth every damn minute I had spent going without. Because if I hadn’t waited, if it had been someone else instead of Max, it wouldn’t have been the same. Maybe it would have been good, but it wouldn’t have been like that.

Because the magic of that was us. Together.

It made me feel out of control. Not in the moment—no, I had felt very much in control as I perched naked on his desk, driving him mad with lust, and I had relished every second of it—but now that my body was fully sated, my brain had finally clicked back on.

And right now, it was screaming a warning.

Because there was a dampness between my legs, an uncomfortable trickle of wetness, that shouldn’t be there.

That wouldn’t have been there…if we had used a condom.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I muttered against the steering wheel.

It was my teenage mistakes all over again. Brash. Impulsive. Reckless. Having sex! In the principal’s office! Without a goddamn condom! After hearing this exact fucking warning from the septuagenarian mafia literally only a couple hours ago.

Everything was falling apart. I was falling apart.

But if there was one thing I had learned all those years ago, it was how to pull myself back together again. I had done it then. I would do it now.

It was going to be okay. I would stop by the pharmacy tomorrow for Plan B. I would be a better mom, the kind that didn’t get distracted by sex. I would be a better widow and stop procrastinating George’s commemoration.

I would do all that—and figure out how to fit Max in between being a mom, a daughter, a small-business owner, and a widow. It was hard, but I could do it. That was what this relationship was for, wasn’t it? To work out the kinks and the messiness so that I would be ready for the real thing. Max wasn’t the only one who needed practice.

So I would keep doing that too. Practicing.

Starting with calling my mom.

Chapter 18

Max

The problem with having mind-blowing, soul-shattering good sex in my office was that I still had to actually work there, which was very hard to do when I kept picturing Kate naked on my desk. The first bell had rung an hour ago, and I had done literally nothing except relive it over and over again.

Kate on her knees.

Kate, naked and perfect, asking if I enjoyed the view.

Kate moaning, her nails digging into my shoulders while I—oh shit.

While I fucked her without a condom.

Fucking hell. How could I have been so goddamn careless? She wasn’t on the pill, and while I was sure they were both disease-free, given that I had been tested in the last six months and she hadn’t been with anyone in a decade, we hadn’t discussed going bare.

I locked my office door, giving myself privacy from Patricia. A second later, I had Kate on the phone. “I didn’t wear a condom,” I said when she picked up.

“Yeah. I realized that too late.”

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