Page 13 of Hotter in the Hamptons

Someday, she thought, looking around at all her things, she’d turn this room into a well-organized Carrie Bradshaw fantasy closet. But that day was not today. Nor was tomorrow, for that matter. And maybe not the day after that either.

The mess in her office was the exception; the rest of their apartment was immaculate. Justin was a clean freak, something Lola loved about him, and she did her best to abide by his many rules. After all, mess stressed him out more than cleanliness stressedherout, so it only seemed fair. She was fine to compromise, to keep her things hidden away in her own space where they wouldn’t bother him.

Justin’s own spotless office, on the other side of the apartment, was filled with top-of-the-line workout equipment, though he preferred going to Barry’s or playing pickleball. He was, in fact, down to try just about any workout—he’d once gone to Pilates with Lola as a joke and fell in love with it (she, on the other hand, never went back).

The effort showed. His body was a work of art, and at six foot four,he basically looked like the statue of an ideal man—broad shoulders, washboard abs, biceps larger than Lola’s head, and hardly any body hair. If he wanted to, he could have had a lucrative career as a menswear model, but he wasn’t vain enough to have considered it. He dressed well too; he had a closet full of pressed and tailored Armani suits, plus a healthy collection of pieces from Bode and Ralph Lauren. Everything about him was refined and cool, including his attitude—he was easy. If he was ever in a bad mood, he’d simply go to the gym and take it out on the bench press. Lola was the moody one, something she hated about herself—she could never predict when her dark and stormy emotions would hit. Justin didn’t seem to mind, though, and in turn she appreciated how simple it was to please him. There was no mystery to Justin, and that was comforting.

She smiled to herself, thinking of Justin’s chiseled body in the shower. Come to think of it, she could use a shower too. Aly Ray Carter had really made her sweat. Or maybe it was just the New York City heat. She stepped out of her dress, tossing it into her dry-cleaning pile, and slid out of her thong. She made a small noise of relief as she unhooked her bra and threw it onto the back of her desk chair.

She was totally naked as she walked down the hall toward the bathroom, her feet hardly making a sound on the original hardwood floor. She floated past the framed photos of Justin’s annual family vacations to Mauna Kea for Christmas. He had taken it upon himself to hang the photos on the wall, and as a result, Lola didn’t have as many of her family on display, but that was okay with her. Jeanette and Roger were creatives through and through, happier behind the camera than in front of it.

The bathroom was filled with dense, fragrant steam.

“Hi,” she said, getting into the white marble shower. Justin’s soap smelled like amber and sea salt.

“Well, hi, yourself.” He grinned, that warm, easy smile she loved so much. He dropped his loofah to the ground and wrapped his arms around her. “How’d the interview go?”

“Like, so good,” she said, trying to sound convincing while smiling as his hands grazed her back. “I think we really hit it off. Hopefully the piece will come out this week, and then I can start posting again without everyone yelling at me.”

“I’m so happy to hear it,” he said, and she knew he meant it; Justin was as invested in her success as she was.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Better now. I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you before I leave.”

“Oh, fuck, your LA trip,” she said. She’d completely forgotten. “I can’t believe that’s already this week.”

Justin was taking a red-eye to LA to attend USC’s graduation. He was being honored with an award for all the scholarship money he’d raised. She would have gone with him, but there’d been so much chaos surrounding her social media drama that he’d told her it was okay to skip it.

He laughed, but she could tell he was a little annoyed. “How do you forget something like that?”

“You know me,” she sighed. “Just in my own little world.”

“You do have a lot going on,” he conceded, his tone nicer, always so quick to forgive. “It’s fine. Just don’t forget about the other trip this summer.”

She gasped, feigning shocked. “I could never forget Capri.”

“Oh yeah? When do we leave?”

“July…second?” she guessed, emphasizing her upspeak to sound cute. The truth was she had no idea.

He laughed. “My gorgeous little space cadet. I’ll put it in your calendar.”

“Thank you,” she said.

She stood on her tiptoes as they kissed under the rainfall showerhead, the hot water mixing in their mouths. Not for the first time that day, she wondered what it would be like to kiss someone shorter than her. To have the other person lift on their tiptoes.Hertiptoes even. The thought turned her on, and with Justin naked in front of her, it was easy to imagine that he was the one responsible for her arousal. She bit his lower lip, ran her hands along his biceps, touched the well-defined six-pack that she knew would be there regardless of his lifelong commitment to sit-ups.

“Oh really?” he said.

She felt him grow hard against her. “Mm-hmm,” she said.

His big, strong hand slid between her legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said.

She laughed into his mouth. “I’ve wanted you all day.”

This was, perhaps, notexactlytrue, but she wanted him at that moment, and that was what mattered.

She always thought that people in long-term relationships would, at a certain point, stop wanting to fuck all the time. But that point had never really happened for Lola and Justin. They were both, it seemed, perpetually horny for each other. She couldn’t blame herself: Justin was, for all intents and purposes, the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Most days, she couldn’t believe she was his.

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