Page 34 of Rebound

I feel him stiffen, and not in a good way. He falls silent, and I can practically feel the cogs turning. Just like that, the lighthearted mood from moments ago has shriveled away. I should have guessed that he’d react like this. He probably expected me to stay in my safe little Manhattan-society bubble, and now I’ve knocked him off-balance.

“Queens?” he repeats.

“Yes, Elijah. It’s a borough of New York, situated on Long Island.”

“I know where it fucking is. But it’s also… Are you sure it’s safe? What about security? It’s one thing to ignore it when you’re hosting charity dinners on the Upper East Side, but Queens?”

I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. I don’t want to fight, but I can’t let myself be controlled. Elijah is saying this because he’s still protective of me. Because he still sees that as his responsibility. But we both have to accept that we’re getting divorced, and keeping me safe is not his job anymore. It’s mine.

“It’s not set in stone yet, Elijah. I might not even get the role, so don’t freak out. But yes, I’m sure it’s safe. Millions of people do live there, you know.”

“Yes, but they’re not… you.”

“You mean they’re not connected to the James family? They’re not kidnapping risks? Targets because of their billionaire ex-husbands?”

“All of that is true, but it’s not what I meant.”

We’re both getting annoyed now, and I can hear the effort he’s making to stay calm, just like I am. This affair can’t work if Mr. and Mrs. James are constantly lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the opportunity to get embroiled in our old ways.

“What did you mean, then?” I ask, telling myself to listen. To not snap and not judge—to not smother him with snark like I usually do.

“I meant that none of those millions of people are you, so I don’t give a shit about them. You’re the only person I care about, Amber, and signing some papers won’t change that. Nothing will ever change that. You can leave me, divorce me, never speak to me again, but I will always look out for you, whether you want me to or not. It’s the way I’m made. I protect the people I love.”

I bury my face in his chest again because I cannot bear to look at him. I cannot bear to see his expression or for him to see the sheen of fresh tears in my eyes. This is all so intense, and my feelings are so conflicted that I’m worried I can’t contain them all. Worried I will explode like a grenade filled with emotions instead of shards and splinters. He squeezes me tight, completely wrapping me up in his body. He knows exactly what I’m doing—that I’m hiding.

His breath dusts over my hair. “I’m sorry, baby. We’re a fucking mess, aren’t we?”

“We really are, and I’m not sure all this honesty is helping. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe we should stay away from each other.”

“You’re probably right,” he says, his hand running over my hip and coming to rest on my waist. “Except… Well, I don’t fucking want to.”

His tone is petulant, and despite my tears, I have to laugh. “You know you sound like a kid about to have a tantrum, don’t you?”

“So what? Maybe that’s how I feel. Look, I know this is screwed up. I know we’re going ahead with the divorce. But I have felt more alive in the last hour than I have since the night in my hotel suite. I don’t know if that’s because of the affair, the pretending, or the mind-blowing sex we seem to keep accidentally having. But I don’t want it to stop. What about you?”

My fingers trace the silky hair on his chest. This is a crazy rollercoaster ride, and even in the past few minutes, we’ve been up and down, veering between mischievous and way too serious. But I can’t deny that I also feel alive. “No. If I’m being truthful, I don’t want it to stop either. But as of tomorrow, we’re officially separated in the eyes of the world, and we genuinely will need to keep this a secret. We’d have to keep sneaking around, find other places like this.”

He shrugs. “I’m fine with that. And anyway, I likethisplace. I might buy it. Or book it out for a year.”

He’s perfectly serious—I can tell from his expression. I grew up without money worries, but Elijah’s level of wealth is next level and still manages to surprise me at times. “Really? You’d buy this place just so you could have sex with your ex-wife here?”

“Yeah, why not? I like this bed. I’d like to tie you up to those posts and play with you. I’d like to spank you ’til your ass shines. To screw you in the shower and take you in the tub.”

I grin at his words, and the playfulness helps ease the tension that was building between us. “That’s very eloquent, Elijah.”

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I have the heart of a poet.”

And the body of a Greek god, the mouth of a sailor, the hands of a magician… It’s a pretty tempting mix. “I mean it, Amber. I’d like to explore some of those firsts with you. I’d like to do all kinds of things with you. This place is safe and private, and it would make the perfect playroom.”

I won’t pretend I’m not intrigued. My pussy is already throbbing a little, and the jut of his cock tells me the images are working for him too. We might have been together for more than two decades, but this feels brand new and thrilling. It’s the best of both worlds—we know each other’s bodies inside out, but we’re also taking steps into the unknown. “That’s very… Christian Grey of you.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? And you fucking loved those books.”

I actually blush. I wasn’t aware he knew about that. Those books were fun and escapist and hot. But when I made myself come after an especially erotic scene, it wasn’t Christian Grey I pictured in my fantasies—it was the drop-dead gorgeous billionaire lying next to me. The one now sliding his big hand between my thighs.

He props himself up on one muscular arm and smiles as he slips a finger inside me, making me moan.

“Mrs. Smith,” he says, his voice husky. “I think we’ve done enough talking. I do believe you’re ready to be fucked.”

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