A very white thumbs-up, to be more accurate.

He did it! Hanna had typed.

“Is that . . .” I started to ask, squinting as I leaned in, trying to get a better look. “Is that baby powder?”

“I believe it is,” Max said, looking for himself. Will looked like a powdered donut had exploded all over him. It was in his hair and eyebrows, smeared across his cheeks and covering both hands, the one supporting the baby and the one he held in front of the camera.

“He’s going to have a good time cleaning that up,” I said, shaking my head before finishing off my burger.

“It’s good for him,” Max said, replying to Hanna before setting his phone down.

“You think Will and Hanna are ready for babies?”

“I think Will would be ready for just about anything Hanna wanted. Christ, she could suggest he join a knitting group and he’d ask her what color yarn was best suited for his skin tone. Bloody brilliant watching that one so whipped. Something tells me tonight is just what they needed.”

“So it’s possible we might actually get a few more hours?”

Max wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin to his plate. “Don’t want to jinx us, but yeah.”

It had been ten minutes since Will’s last text—far longer than with George—and I got an idea. Everything was fine at home and I was not about to waste a golden opportunity like this one.

“What exactly is it you’re doing over there, Petal?” Max said, motioning to my phone.

“Oh, just looking for something.”

Instead I flipped my phone so he could see the screen, and knew the exact moment he understood. “Things are going so well at home, and we’d be idiots to waste it so . . . I’m booking us a room where you can be as loud as you want and not have to keep one ear focused on a baby monitor. If you’re interested, that is,” I added, giving him a cheeky grin.

“Interested? I will pay everyone’s bill in this bloody diner if it gets us out of here more quickly,” he said, and made a hand signal at the waiter for our check. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

“Once or twice,” I said, smiling widely as the waiter set the bill on our table. I continued scrolling through the listings, and stopped when I found what I was looking for.

“So we’re people who check in to hotels by the hour now?” Max joked, standing to take our bill to the register. He scratched his jaw. “I am surprisingly comfortable with this.”

It was impossible not to feel like we were up to something as we checked in to a swank little hotel down the block. We had no luggage, had made the reservation less than fifteen minutes ago, and I’m sure the way I kept looking at Max—like I might throw him down on the counter at any minute—might have suggested we were up to something a bit less wholesome than a nap.

Not to mention that the New York State driver’s license Max showed as proof of ID had a mailing address located less than ten minutes away. Whatever. I was going to fuck my husband; they could think whatever they want.

“If possible we’d like a room in the most empty part of the hotel,” Max said. “We plan on being loud.”

The clerk looked down at Max’s ID and blinked back up at him again, bored, before rolling his eyes and moving to swipe our card.

Inside the elevator, Max pressed me against the far wall, pushing his hand into my hair. “Tell me what you want, sweet Sara,” he said, running his nose along my jaw. “This is your night, and I want to do every filthy thing in that devious little mind of yours.”

“I want you,” I said. “Over me, behind me.”

He hummed against my skin, and I felt every bit of anxiety melt away. He wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t treating me like something he had to handle with kid gloves.

I tilted my head, looked up to see our reflections in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. The sight of our bodies together—even clothed—sent a shiver down my spine.

“I want your face between my legs,” I told him. “I want you wild.”

He exhaled, and made the tiniest, neediest sound. “You know I love how you taste. Would I lick you, Petal?”

“Would I be greedy and suck, get my face covered in you? Or do you want me to take my time?”

“All of it. Rough at first and then again, slower. Savoring,” I said, though who knew how much time we would actually get. I watched as Max pushed open the collar of my shirt to reveal the top swell of my breasts. I could easily imagine what we would look like from that angle: me naked on my back, legs spread shamelessly open with Max between them. I would see the flex of muscle as he devoured me, my fingers in his beautiful hair as I pulled and held him where I wanted. The flex of my toes as my orgasm moved up my body and out. As I screamed.

The elevator stopped and Max reached for my hand, practically tugging me down the hall and toward our room. “All of it,” he said, slotting the key into the door. “I’ll give you fucking all of it.” The light glowed green as the lock clicked, and he pushed it open. Inside, it was my turn to push Max against the wall. I stood on my toes to reach his mouth, pressing my lips to his and not wasting any time as I opened his belt and began pulling his shirt from the waist of his pants. “I want to take pictures of you,” I said, and he pulled away just long enough to meet my eyes.