He slid inside her, and that too felt both familiar and foreign. Familiar, because it was Zeke and she’d never been with anyone except him, but also oddly foreign because usually he was the master of control, prolonging the act until he built her up for a long slow orgasm. But there was no control here tonight. He was jerky and fast and she loved knowing that he was as crazy for her as she was for him. It didn’t take long before he let out a loud deep moan of his own.
Afterward, he collapsed alongside her and tried to catch his breath. “When did you become a screamer?”
“When did you become Sir Quickie?”
He quirked a brow at her.
“Not that I’m complaining, because obviously I got mine and—”
“Turn around,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to play Mr. Armadillo.”
“What if I want to be Mr. Armadillo?”
He sighed impatiently. “You don’t have the right equipment.”
“True, but I can still be the one on top.”
“Maybe next time.” Then he flipped her over and she didn’t care who was who or what was what.
*~*~*
Mimi cracked an eyelid open. Soft morning light filtered in through the window blinds. She picked up the bedside clock. It was almost seven. Then she remembered it was Saturday morning and no one had to be anywhere they didn’t want to be.
The air felt cooler than it had last night. A rare spring cold front must have come in. It was nearly April and she was more than ready for the hot weather to come back. She was a Florida girl, through and through. Going to the beach was as natural to her as breathing. When she was little she’d play in the sand and splash in the warm water while her brother Luke walked up and down the shoreline, investigating all the creepy crawly things that Mimi usually tried to avoid. Even though Luke had relished tossing those creepy crawly things her way (usually into her hair) those had been idyllic times.
Her most favorite year was when she was seven and Luke was nine. Momma referred to it as the summer of the hermit crabs, because Luke had developed an unnatural fetish with the little things. Later, that fascination had deepened enough that after getting his civil engineering degree from Duke, he’d gone on to the College of Charleston for his masters in marine biology. He worked as a consultant for a firm that specialized in environmentally friendly beachside construction. Mimi was proud of him. He’d followed his dreams and he’d become successful at something he felt passionate about.
She, on the other hand, had never really felt passionate about anything. Except her family. She’d been on the road to follow in the Powers’ family tradition and attend Duke, although if you had asked her at eighteen what she wanted to do with her life she’d have come up with a great big question mark. She liked a lot of things—English, history, political science. But unless you got lucky or went on to grad school, it meant settling for a job that might not be in your field.
She’d gotten the English degree, but she’d opted to be a stay-at-home mom. And she’d been proud of that. Not a lot of women had that choice. But the kids were older now and she found most of her days had been filled with either volunteer work or housework (yuck). She’d become restless, and yes, just a little bit envious of her husband and his career. So when the opportunity to run for mayor came along, she’d grabbed at it like a lifeline.
But in her head, she’d pictured things differently. She’d envisioned a life where she and Zeke got up every morning, had their cup of coffee, then helped the kids get off to school. They’d go their separate ways—the police station for Zeke and the city municipal building for Mimi. After putting in a full day of making Whispering Bay a better (and safer!) place to live, they’d come home and make dinner together, maybe take in one of Cameron’s soccer practices or one of Claire’s debate team matches or watch her cheerlead at a sporting event. On the weekends, they’d do their family thing. She’d lay out on a warm sandy beach with a novel in one hand and a cold glass of wine in the other while Zeke and the kids built sandcastles and swam in the gulf.
Of course, it had been years since either Cameron or Claire had been interested in making sand castles. Or hanging out with them on the weekends, either. And now that the kids were older and she and Zeke had more time to spend with one another, they were in this...time out. Were they ever going to catch a break?
She glanced over at Zeke, who was still asleep, one arm carelessly tossed above his head. His expression was peaceful and rested. Like a man who’d spent the night exercising his demons. She shifted, trying to pull more of the blanket over her shoulders and winced at the soreness between her legs. Yep. He’d done a lot of exercising all right. She smiled to herself. How had she managed to go four months without this?
“Good morning,” he said, startling her. He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to wake up. His voice was gruff and sleepy and absolutely delicious to her ears.
“Good morning, yourself. Want some breakfast? I can make pancakes or I could do bacon and eggs. Or, if we’re really, really brave we can get dressed and head to The Bistro, but that’s only if you want the whole town to know that we, you know, spent the night together.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.
She swallowed hard. “I’ve missed you, too, Zeke.”
“Good, I’m glad we got that out of the way.” He jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She heard the click of the shower door open and then the sound of running water. He stuck his head out the bathroom door. “Let’s go to The Bistro and afterward we can go out to the cabin and get my stuff.” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Want to join me?” he yelled from the shower.
Get his stuff? Men. They could be so incredibly stupid. They thought sex was the answer to everything.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and went to the kitchen to make coffee. While she waited for it to brew, she let Toby out into the backyard. No sign of any armadillos this morning, which was almost too bad. She could have used a laugh right about now.
She opened the bottom drawer next to the refrigerator, where she kept all her current correspondence. Underneath a folder with emergency numbers was a tattered envelope that she’d hidden over two months ago. She stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans and waited, too nervous to do much more than pace.
This wasn’t how she’d envisioned the scene that was about to take place. But it was long past time they got everything out into the open.