Lovers and Liars (16 page)

He had complained once to Glassman, who had laughed. “You’re not going to have to worry about that much longer!” He grinned, and Adam had felt a rush of exultation. The old bastard was as sharp as they came, and he was definitely up to something. But what? Adam had casually tried to find out. Glassman refused to give. Adam wanted to know what he was doing. Given the right situation, such as being Belinda’s husband and accruing power within Glassman Enterprises as Abe’s son-in-law, he could wait patiently, indefinitely. But not now. Chasing an unreachable
Belinda was not the right situation. Something had to give, and give soon.

Patience. If she was playing a game, leading him on, it was working. The problem was, he knew she wasn’t. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t have to. Her inheritance made her sexier than almost any woman he knew, and so did this prolonged courtship.

“What do you have in mind?” Belinda asked curiously.

She had just finished the revisions, and she felt like cutting loose. She also felt a touch guilty. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Adam that she hadn’t gone out at all in the past month. She had, however, had Vince over a few times, just for some good sex. In the beginning, she hadn’t felt that she owed Adam anything, but now—now that they’d been dating for so long and had become such good friends—she was wondering if she owed him something, like honesty, at least, or fidelity.

But could you owe someone fidelity if you’d never even slept with him? Belinda wasn’t sure. She’d only had one relationship, when she was a teenager, and in that one she’d fallen in love, given fidelity, and had had her heart broken. She was an amateur at relationships. She hadn’t had a relationship since, not in almost ten years, unless you counted sexual affairs as relationships. Those could not possibly count. But it did seem that four months of dating was definitely heading somewhere, certainly toward a relationship.

She certainly liked Adam and enjoyed his company. And although she wasn’t madly lusting after him, the warmth she felt for him had grown in the past few months, and with it, sexual curiosity. But just thinking about having sex with Adam made her nervous. She had never gone to bed with a man she was so friendly with before. If she slept with Adam, would that mean they were now having a
relationship?
Did she want a relationship? Was she ready for a relationship? What if she got seriously involved with Adam and he turned out to be a typical, grade-A prick like her one and only boyfriend had been? And what about Vince?

She would put off making a decision. There’d been too much pressure in the past few months, and right now all she
wanted was to relax and kick back. “I suppose I have plenty of time to pack tomorrow,” she said.

“You most certainly do,” Adam affirmed. “How does Chasen’s sound, with dancing after?”

She thought about getting dressed up in high heels and makeup after a month of jeans and bare feet. She grinned. “Adam, you’re on.”

Adam grinned back. Damn it, but tonight was the night. Before she went out of town he was going to bond her to him with a means as old as time—with sex.

23

S
he was leaving tomorrow.

He hadn’t seen her or heard from her in almost a week.

Vince was going crazy. He was unbearably hard up, thinking about her night and day. And irritable. The guys at work had started to give him a lot of space. Which was fine.

There was a limit to how often he could fuck his wife in place of Belinda.

And Mary these days was impossible. Her drinking was out of hand. The house was a wreck. He couldn’t go home without becoming livid. And more and more she wasn’t even there. Out. Partying. It was a relief, and at the same time it wasn’t.

The thought had briefly occurred to him that she might be having an affair. That should make him happy, make him feel less guilty, but it didn’t. It made him furious. After all, she was his wife. What he was doing was wrong, he knew it, but he was in love, and he hadn’t meant for it to happen. It just had—he couldn’t help himself.

The first time he had ever seen Belinda had been at a party.

A stunning blonde in a skintight red dress, sleeveless, strapless, clinging—and she had looked at him, had smiled at him. With promise.

He knew a come-on when he saw it.

It was totally out of character.

She was a fantasy.
It
was a fantasy.

He had followed her.

Mary was off somewhere outside, drinking and doing lines with mutual friends. They were inside, in the living room, on opposite sides. With another hot, hot look she turned and started up the stairs. Her ass was high and round and perfect for his hands.

He followed.

He had never cheated on Mary before.

But he couldn’t help himself.

They did it on the floor, without getting undressed. He shoved her dress up to her waist, momentarily stunned to find that she was wearing stockings and a garter belt and nothing else. He explored her with his hands, his fingers, to find her wet and slick. She deftly unzipped his trousers and pulled him out. “Oh, my,” she said throatily. Her only words.

He grabbed her buttocks and thrust wildly into her. She clamped her legs around his waist and arched back. It was an animal rutting—plain fucking. They came within seconds, almost together.

He had watched her as she sat up, adjusted her black stockings, pulled down her dress, stood and smoothed it. Then she looked at him. Staring. He didn’t have the foggiest notion what she was thinking.

He knew only one thing. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he wanted her again.

Mary never suspected a thing.

Three weeks later Belinda had finally agreed to see him again—the three longest weeks of his life.

Belinda did that. She made time slow down—and speed up.

Just as she made it hard for him to think straight.

He had told her many times in the heat of passion that
he loved her, but he meant every word. He was afraid to say it without the passion to blunt the effect. She hadn’t said anything, Not even that she was crazy about him. Nothing. No words of love. No words of affection. Nothing.

He picked up the phone. He was at his local 7-Eleven; he couldn’t dial from the house. He called her again, and for the zillionth time there was no answer. Just where the hell was she?

More importantly—who the fuck was she with?

24

T
he house was a wreck, but Mary didn’t care. She took a long time showering and pampering herself, moisturizing all over, then spritzing herself with an exotic, earthy musk. She slipped on shorts and a halter and waited for Beth to arrive.

Beth.

She was hot and wet with desire.

Six months ago she would have fainted if anyone had told her she was going to be having an affair, any affair, much less one with a woman.

Not that she didn’t still like men. She did. She still enjoyed Vince, but it was nothing compared to Beth. Vince turned her on—but he couldn’t get her off.

She had come the first time Beth had made love to her.

They had been sunbathing outside on lounge chairs. Three weeks ago, during a warm spell. Mary was aware of Beth’s eyes, which seemed to restlessly rove her body, dwelling on her breasts. But she didn’t think about it. They were both hung over, and Mary was used to the attention her bosom attracted.

Mary had looked, however, when Beth had casually removed her top, revealing round, nice-sized breasts, all tan,
the nipples brown and hard. Beth dressed in such a manner that all you ever saw of her was her long legs and small hips. Mary was very envious of her body. It was superb.

When Mary had turned over, untying the string of her top, Beth offered to rub lotion on her back. Her hands stroked the oil into Mary’s skin with slow, sensual motions, first kneading her neck and shoulders, then her back.

“You need a massage,” Beth had breathed. “You’re so tight.”

“That feels great,” Mary said. It did feel great. She was warm and relaxed.

Beth’s hands slid up the sides of her rib cage, grazing Mary’s breasts. Mary tensed. The hands moved away, lust when she was relaxed again, it happened again. If Mary had known better or if Beth had been a guy, she would have been sure she was copping a feel. Mary felt depraved. Beth’s touch had sent a wet heat spiraling down her body.

Beth’s hands brushed her bikini-clad buttocks, and began to massage the back of one thigh. Mary realized she was becoming aroused. Beth’s hands, spread wide on her thigh, moved up and down, coming closer and closer to her swelling groin. Briefly making contact. Then a hard nipple grazed her back, and suddenly Beth’s hand was stroking her, gently, expertly—and it was like nothing Mary had ever felt before.

“Let me make love to you,” Beth had gasped.

Mary’s body said yes and her mind said no. Torn, she didn’t say anything. Beth slid down, pressing herself against Mary’s buttocks, rubbing her nipples against Mary’s back, her hands slipping under to capture Mary’s breasts. The heat between them was electric and overwhelming.

She slid off and pulled Mary’s bikini off, turning her over. Mary closed her eyes. This is wrong, she was thinking. This is really wrong.

Then she felt Beth’s tongue probing between her legs, and it was like nothing she had ever felt before.

Ten minutes later, to her complete surprise, she had an incredible orgasm.

Now she sipped a beer. She didn’t care that she was bisexual. It was fun—and more. Never had she reached the
heights that Beth brought her to. The problem was, Beth had fallen in love with her and was making demands. She wanted Mary to leave Vince and move in with her. Mary wasn’t sure she wanted to do that.

What would her mother say?

Mary imagined something like: “If you lost a little weight, you wouldn’t have to turn to girls—you could have men for lovers.”

But that wasn’t right. She had Vince. He was certainly all male.

Still, her mother would find some way, no matter how illogical, to tie her few extra pounds in with her affair with Beth.

Mary hadn’t seen her mother in six months. Fortunately, she had been in Paris this fall with some new man. Mary had read in the society column that the divorce was final. Her mother’s new lover was even younger than her last husband. It made Mary sick.