He can’t help smirking at that. “Well, I hope you don’t choke to death on tiny balls.”
I smile slyly, leaning in to whisper, “I’d much rather choke on your cock.”
His head lolls back and he groans. “Goddamn family dinner.”
I chuckle, dropping a few tender kisses along the exposed column of his neck. “You love family dinner.”
His fingers dig into my hip, trapping me against his hard-on. “Yes, but now I have better things to do. We could sneak up to my room for a few minutes.”
“Drinks have already started,” I inform him, lifting an eyebrow.
“Bathroom, then. I can bend you over the sink, fuck you from behind while you watch in the mirror.”
I swallow, more than a little tempted to take him up on that offer.
Before I can decide whether or not to sneak away with him, I hear a few murmured greetings. My back is to the door, but I peer over my shoulder to see Sal and Francesca have arrived. I brighten, going to move from Mateo’s lap, but he keeps me anchored there, so I settle back in.
“Hey, guys,” I greet, offering a little wave.
Francesca looks pleasantly surprised to see me sitting in Mateo’s lap. After Mateo came clean about Vince, I convinced him that we needed to tell the ladies who actually cared about Vince the truth—none of the men seemed terribly distraught over it, and they’re the ones on the business side of things, anyway. Meg, Cherie and Francesca deserved to know the truth, so even though Cherie hated me, I braved going to tell her. At first she didn’t believe me. I had to dig out Mateo’s folder and show her the pictures of Vince. It didn’t take a phone call to prove it to her. She covered her face and cried with relief, then she hugged me and apologized for calling me a manipulative bitch. I still deserved it, but she was overcome with gratitude and I very much understood. When Mateo told me the truth, I felt like he had single-handedly brought Vince back to life. I couldn’t have been more grateful—and he was the one who put me through all that shit to begin with, knowing damn well he could stop it at any time.
But hey, I don’t hold a grudge.
Mateo told Francesca himself, and I haven’t talked to her since the day we had lunch, so this is the first I’ve seen her since she found out the truth.
Now her eyes move over the sight of us in his chair. It’s unfamiliar enough that he’s seated, let alone with someone in his lap. He never sits like this with Meg. That shouldn’t bring me pleasure, but hey, she gets to have babies, I should get some perk of my own.
Francesca steps around to the front of the desk, searching my face as if for some sign that I’m faking it. I offer her a smile I hope is reassuring.
“Did you bring your honeymoon album?” I ask.
Sal shakes his head. “We weren’t sure what we were walking into.”
“Oh. Well, this dinner will probably be a little less entertaining than some you’ve been to.”
“I don’t know, sister wives? I’ve gotta see how this works,” he states.
I grin, looking at Francesca. “You’re not sold on it yet, huh?”
“It’s weird,” she drawls.
“But it works,” I shoot back.
Mateo doesn’t contribute to this conversation; he just presides over us, periodically taking a sip of his drink while we battle out whether or not our lifestyle is acceptable.
“But how? I don’t understand.”
“You’ll see,” I tell her, waving off her concern. “Nothing has really changed. We’ve snapped right back to how things were before. We’re buddies, all is well.”
“But you have sex with the same person,” Francesca says, grimacing.
“But not at the same time,” I volunteer, like maybe that helps.
“Yet,” Mateo murmurs.
Now he makes my cheeks flush. Francesca grimaces and covers her ears. “I can’t unhear that. What’s wrong with you?”
He smirks, taking a long sip of his drink. “Nothing. I’m doing quite well.”
Sal shakes his head, glancing back over his shoulder. No one else is paying us any attention. If they’re surprised to see Mateo more relaxed, they certainly don’t remark upon it. Glancing back at Mateo, he asks, “You sure you want to let her study psychology? What if she figures out what’s wrong with her and fixes herself?”
Francesca covers her mouth to try to cover the laughter she’s failing to completely stifle. She shoots me an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t care. I understand why Sal thinks I’m crazy. He hasn’t experienced Mateo’s neck kisses.”
Mateo grins. “You think it’s the neck kisses?”
“I think it’s the brainwashing,” Sal volunteers.
Mateo shrugs, eyebrows rising. “If she says it’s the neck kisses, I guess it’s the neck kisses.”
“That must be some skilled lipwork if it can make up for over a month of mentally torturing your second girlfriend for no real reason.”